Just a little over a year ago I was praying for another baby...and when I saw a faint line on my pregnant test I immediately started to cry with joy. I knelt to the floor thanking God for the chance to be a mommy again. He was faithful to grant me this wish. I lived in euphoria for the next week in exuberant secrecy of the miracle within me. I couldn't wait to meet this baby!
One week later my excitement was interrupted by the fact that I began to bleed. You see, before my last pregnancy I had endured two miscarriages. That experience had grown me in ways of humility, grief and empathy I would have never thought possible---but I never wanted to walk that path again, and here I was entering into a too familiar scenario. I tried to deny it, hoping it would magically go away, but I continued to bleed. It was then that the cramping began, not a good sign.
I was now an official emotional wreck. Something so private and devastating was wrecking havoc inwardly though outwardly life had to continue on. Kids needed tending to, household chores wouldn't wait... I was going on with the everyday things when I really wanted to curl up in a fetal position and sob. Every night after I had tucked my two little ones into bed I would collapse into my sadness.
"Why, God? I've already done this, I don't want to go through this again. Please, take this pain away," I would pray continually. But my biggest resounding prayer I sobbed into my husband's chest..."why?"
I didn't stop bleeding, I couldn't pretend it away, so I made the call to make a doctor's appointment. Blah. This would be the appointment I'd get to see my empty uterus staring at me on the screen. Oh, how I dreaded that appointment.
I remember the moment I felt God's calming voice telling me the answer to my big question, "why?" The simple answer: He would get glory. I wondered how in either outcome He'd get glory? Then came the explanation....if the baby had died, I would not be able to handle this on my own. I would have to rely on God's strength. It was the only way I'd get through this pain, and I knew that truth too well. Third time is not the charm, and God would get my praise in my simply getting through the task at hand. If there was a miraculous healing...well, then He would obviously get the glory at His ability to give life and sustain life in any circumstance.
I headed to the appointment alone, ready to receive the bad news and begin the grieving and healing process. I pictured the Genesis scenario of Jacob being asked to sacrifice his only son, Jacob, out of obedience to God. God tested Jacob's faithfulness just as I was being tested to trust God in this situation. But he got to keep his son...I cried...I don't. Then I thought of Jesus going to the cross for me. God didn't spare His one and only son for my sake. Jesus had been my atoning sacrifice, the sinless sacrifice to pay for my own sin. Whew. Heady as this was, I was beginning to accepting God's plan. I would choose to give God praise.
I smiled at a thought that came to mind. My dear brother in law had just made an early appearance in heaven a month previous to this. Our family was still raw in that grief. But I could see Tim's chagrin at having two rambunctious nephews to welcome him....but a third now? Oh, he was getting more than he bargained for....if this baby made it, it was because Uncle Tim had kicked this one out! Now, though this is not my true theology at work, the thought granted me the humor to get me through the situation.
Upon arrival, I lay on the table to be shown the cryptic black and white footage of what was going on in my womb. "Is that a blighted ovum?" I asked. The ultrasound tech pointed to a bright spot, measured it and said, "Well, from the look of it...this is still a positive sign for pregnancy." What?!
"Yes," she continued, "At this point it is just a wait and check again in a week. But it is still a positive pregnancy at this time."
I felt that this baby had just been given back to me from the dead. I felt like Jacob getting Isaac back in his arms! God chose to be glorified in the fact that I would sing His praise at His mercy of returning the hope of life to me.
I made it through the next week, and the next week and the next month....I had so many ultrasounds. I continued to bleed sporadically all throughout pregnancy. I had seven months of nausea. But I rejoiced in it all! I had been given back the child I once thought dead.
So now, five months have passed since Myrra's birth, and I continue to hear God's quiet voice reminding me of the promise to tell the world of His grace. I know this posting is most likely more than you bargained for, but thank you for granting me the opportunity to keep my promise to God. He is good all the time. Every pregnancy, every baby is a miracle to be cherished.
By the way, my sister had told me after my thought about how Uncle Tim must have kicked this one out of heaven...her reply had been, "He always said no more than two kids!" smile. Thanks, Uncle Tim. *grin, wink*
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." John 14:27
