Redemption and Restoration
This post has been a long time coming. I have sat down more times than I can count and tried to write. I have pondered ideas in the shower, on the road and while playing with my girls. I just have not been able to write. Until now. Last night, after bath time was over for the girls and little man was asleep ("milk drunk" as we call it) I told Landon that I was ready. This story is one of redemptive love, of a powerful God who hears and answers, renewed faith and of a family completely dependent on Him to move mountains.
In August of 2015, we decided that we were ready to add a third child to our family. It was kind of a now or never situation because we were approaching 31 and 34 in October. Let's face it - we weren't the kids we used to be. I faced this with mixed emotions because (and very few people in our lives know this) we lost a baby in May of 2014. That loss was something I struggled with for over a year, but I was finally to the point of moving forward and seeing what God had in store for us.
I'm not sure why, but we have never had trouble conceiving. Avery and our glory baby were both by-products of taking amoxicillin for ear infections. I figured that we would be expecting by Christmas and could not wait to take a test. This also happened to be the last day of school before Christmas break, which made it all the more exciting! I was restless all night but I made myself wait until 2 am to take a test. Sure enough, there were two lines and my squeals would have woken up my husband if he did not sleep so soundly. Being our fourth pregnancy, I began showing quite a bit earlier than I had with the girls. I did not want to look like I had just eaten a ton at Thanksgiving and never worked it off, so we shared our exciting news with the world on Christmas Eve. Yes, I was only five weeks, but I regretted not sharing our third pregnancy with anyone and I did not want to make the same mistake again. My reasoning was that life is precious, no matter how long God gives it, so I wanted everyone we knew to be able to share in our joy.
And they did.
But then they shared in our sorrow a few weeks later.
I will never forget the words "blighted ovum" and the massive black abyss that stared back at me on the ultrasound screen. Walking into the doctor's office in January, we were on cloud nine. Just a few minutes later, seeing that dark, devoid of life hole literally sucked the breath out of me. I managed to voice the words "That's not good, is it?" My husband took one hand in shocked silence while my doctor took the other. We just sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. He said he would give us a few minutes alone and then come back to discuss our options. The second he left, I became a trembling, sobbing mess. Landon, my rock, held me and just let me cry. I don't remember any thoughts or emotions. I don't remember anything but my doctor walking back through the door and telling me to go home, take it easy and let my body take care of itself.
We made our two week follow-up appointment and left in silent tears. I texted everyone who knew that we would not be sending a picture because there was nothing to see. I felt ashamed that I had led everyone on. I felt betrayed by God that He was allowing this to happen after I had made myself vulnerable to conception again. I felt like a scam artist because I was told to continue on as if I was still pregnant because, technically, I was until I miscarried. I saw the picture. There was NOTHING there. Technically? Seriously?! So I was just supposed to walk around like everything was fine and we were expecting a baby when, any day, that dream would be shattered?
I cried. A lot.
I cried cooking supper, I cried giving baths, I cried driving to work, I cried in bed. My principal sent me home from work the following Wednesday because she could see how it was affecting me. The only word to describe my state of mind was desperate - for my baby, for a sense of normal, for time to grieve and for God to work. I turned my bathroom into a war room. I hung scripture all over my mirror and it is still there. In my desperation, He met me. He gave comfort. He provided prayer warriors to to lift up our family on our behalf. Most of all, He gave hope through His Word.
I clung to Psalm 20:7 and 1 Corinthians 2:5 over the next two weeks:
In our case, some trust in doctors and some in science, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. I love my doctor and I'm thankful for science, but neither is perfect. My doctor is a wise man, but my God is powerful beyond my imagination. Rather than praying for peace and comfort, I asked everyone around me to pray for God to breathe life into my womb and create a baby where there had been nothing. We prayed and fasted like never before, waiting for God to work a miracle.
And we waited.
Then, two weeks later came and I was a mix of emotions entering the doctor's office. He called us back rather than a nurse and I knew what he was thinking. The look on his face was one of pity. He asked if anything had happened, and of course it hadn't because we were back. The plan was to go to the hospital but I spoke up, "Can we just look one more time?" I was determined that all our hoping and praying was not going to end with a death march to the hospital. He agreed and we entered the ultra sound room.
As soon as the camera touched my belly, we saw a shadow of gray. Then that gray turned to white and the small outline of a baby appeared. I asked what it was just to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. He confirmed that an 8-week baby with a healthy heart rate of 142 bpm was alive and well inside me. The sound of that heartbeat will be the sweetest sound even if I live to be one hundred. I cannot begin to use words to describe how we felt. From being completely devoid of life to full of life two weeks later, our God certainly had worked a miracle. He created something from nothing. He had strengthened our prayer life. He had restored our faith that He is able to more than all we ask or imagine. He was knitting this little life together in my womb and we were utterly shocked. I cried again. This time they were happy tears.
Now I sit here typing because I can finally put to words what my heart has been saying for the past nine months. Our family is complete because God intervened and chose to breathe life.
In August of 2015, we decided that we were ready to add a third child to our family. It was kind of a now or never situation because we were approaching 31 and 34 in October. Let's face it - we weren't the kids we used to be. I faced this with mixed emotions because (and very few people in our lives know this) we lost a baby in May of 2014. That loss was something I struggled with for over a year, but I was finally to the point of moving forward and seeing what God had in store for us.
I'm not sure why, but we have never had trouble conceiving. Avery and our glory baby were both by-products of taking amoxicillin for ear infections. I figured that we would be expecting by Christmas and could not wait to take a test. This also happened to be the last day of school before Christmas break, which made it all the more exciting! I was restless all night but I made myself wait until 2 am to take a test. Sure enough, there were two lines and my squeals would have woken up my husband if he did not sleep so soundly. Being our fourth pregnancy, I began showing quite a bit earlier than I had with the girls. I did not want to look like I had just eaten a ton at Thanksgiving and never worked it off, so we shared our exciting news with the world on Christmas Eve. Yes, I was only five weeks, but I regretted not sharing our third pregnancy with anyone and I did not want to make the same mistake again. My reasoning was that life is precious, no matter how long God gives it, so I wanted everyone we knew to be able to share in our joy.
And they did.
But then they shared in our sorrow a few weeks later.
I will never forget the words "blighted ovum" and the massive black abyss that stared back at me on the ultrasound screen. Walking into the doctor's office in January, we were on cloud nine. Just a few minutes later, seeing that dark, devoid of life hole literally sucked the breath out of me. I managed to voice the words "That's not good, is it?" My husband took one hand in shocked silence while my doctor took the other. We just sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. He said he would give us a few minutes alone and then come back to discuss our options. The second he left, I became a trembling, sobbing mess. Landon, my rock, held me and just let me cry. I don't remember any thoughts or emotions. I don't remember anything but my doctor walking back through the door and telling me to go home, take it easy and let my body take care of itself.
We made our two week follow-up appointment and left in silent tears. I texted everyone who knew that we would not be sending a picture because there was nothing to see. I felt ashamed that I had led everyone on. I felt betrayed by God that He was allowing this to happen after I had made myself vulnerable to conception again. I felt like a scam artist because I was told to continue on as if I was still pregnant because, technically, I was until I miscarried. I saw the picture. There was NOTHING there. Technically? Seriously?! So I was just supposed to walk around like everything was fine and we were expecting a baby when, any day, that dream would be shattered?
I cried. A lot.
I cried cooking supper, I cried giving baths, I cried driving to work, I cried in bed. My principal sent me home from work the following Wednesday because she could see how it was affecting me. The only word to describe my state of mind was desperate - for my baby, for a sense of normal, for time to grieve and for God to work. I turned my bathroom into a war room. I hung scripture all over my mirror and it is still there. In my desperation, He met me. He gave comfort. He provided prayer warriors to to lift up our family on our behalf. Most of all, He gave hope through His Word.
I clung to Psalm 20:7 and 1 Corinthians 2:5 over the next two weeks:
"Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God."
"...so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom but on God's power."
In our case, some trust in doctors and some in science, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. I love my doctor and I'm thankful for science, but neither is perfect. My doctor is a wise man, but my God is powerful beyond my imagination. Rather than praying for peace and comfort, I asked everyone around me to pray for God to breathe life into my womb and create a baby where there had been nothing. We prayed and fasted like never before, waiting for God to work a miracle.
And we waited.
Then, two weeks later came and I was a mix of emotions entering the doctor's office. He called us back rather than a nurse and I knew what he was thinking. The look on his face was one of pity. He asked if anything had happened, and of course it hadn't because we were back. The plan was to go to the hospital but I spoke up, "Can we just look one more time?" I was determined that all our hoping and praying was not going to end with a death march to the hospital. He agreed and we entered the ultra sound room.
As soon as the camera touched my belly, we saw a shadow of gray. Then that gray turned to white and the small outline of a baby appeared. I asked what it was just to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. He confirmed that an 8-week baby with a healthy heart rate of 142 bpm was alive and well inside me. The sound of that heartbeat will be the sweetest sound even if I live to be one hundred. I cannot begin to use words to describe how we felt. From being completely devoid of life to full of life two weeks later, our God certainly had worked a miracle. He created something from nothing. He had strengthened our prayer life. He had restored our faith that He is able to more than all we ask or imagine. He was knitting this little life together in my womb and we were utterly shocked. I cried again. This time they were happy tears.
Now I sit here typing because I can finally put to words what my heart has been saying for the past nine months. Our family is complete because God intervened and chose to breathe life.
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That brings me to a few questions that God wants us all to answer: Have we asked Him to breathe His life into us? Have we made the choice to trust Him no matter how big or small and no matter the outcome? Have we decided to follow Him?
God is in the business of restoring relationships - most importantly our relationship with Him that was shattered by sin. Through Jesus Christ's death and resurrection, redemption is possible. A relationship with the Creator of the universe is just a breath away. What are you waiting for?
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