And granted, our stories all look very different - they're unique works of art. She may have been referencing a strange coincidence, and how she saw God come through and answer a prayer she and her husband had prayed many years before, and in a way that only God can do. But I'm here to say, answered prayer isn't the only way God leaves His fingerprints on our stories - sometimes it's through heartbreak and tragedy that He teaches us. And even during what feels like the darkest moments of our lives, (I'm also here to say) He's still good. Letting Him write our story is letting Him take control over our lives. Sometimes it even means he will choose to prune us - to cut away the ugly - in order to restore and use us. Our journey won't always be easy, but it WILL always be worth it. Fortunately, I learned this a long time ago. From the day we surrender to Christ until our last day on earth, our lives are a blank page for Him to write a novel for His glory. He chisels, He molds and shapes, He changes hearts, and He paints a picture of His grace along the way - all for His glory. As for me, I know He holds me in His hand... and whatever He ordains is right.
A piece of my story starts here:
On Sunday, July 2nd I woke up very sick. So sick that I wasn't able to make it to church, and I barely had enough strength to get up and do the things that are a part of my usual routine. I managed to lift Branch from her crib, pour her milk, and proceeded to lay down on the couch while she watched cartoons. Side note here: being sick and having to tend to a busy toddler on your own is hard, and in this moment I could not have cared less if she destroyed the entire house doing toddler things. The way I remember it, I spent most of the morning going back and forth from the bathroom to the couch, and I knew somewhere in between the sickness I should take a pregnancy test to confirm what I already suspected to be the cause. Luckily I had one test at home in a drawer, and I waited for results in the bathroom. Barely moving and refusing to even stand up, I leaned over until it was within reach. It showed positive. When Joshua called to check in after church, I told him the news. We were expecting baby #2! But I'm sure there was no exclamation mark in my voice - I felt too terrible to even show excitement (later I confessed to him that I actually felt pretty guilty for that). He already knew, and just laughed. He can smell pregnancy hormones or something... I tried to calculate and we both suspected I was somewhere around 6 weeks.
On Monday I proceeded to schedule my confirmation appointment at my Doctor's office, which would be a few weeks out. At that point, we were thrilled. I think the next few days and weeks were spent talking about plans - where we'd put the crib, home projects we would need to take care of prior, whether we'd eventually sell our home, etc. Soon after I was even approached with a really great temporary job opportunity that would give us extra funds for the holidays and baby items, just in time for arrival - the nesting had only just begun, and I was already starting to show.
On July 25th we had our first sonogram. We found out that by then, the baby was measuring 9 weeks 1 day. Joshua wasn't there during the scan, but all of the signs of normal development were there, and I got to hear that sweet, strong heartbeat - a comforting sound to every parent of a new baby. I called him right away to let him know. Everything seemed fine over the next few weeks, until suddenly it wasn't.
August 10th, 16 days later, I woke up from a late afternoon nap to signs of miscarriage. What was happening to me and to the baby was obvious. We made the decision to go to the ER without notifying my Doctor - the office was closed and we figured we had no other choice since I had a significant amount of bleeding. The next few hours were a blur and some of the most miserable hours of my life. The ER is truly no place you want to be when you're losing a baby. I longed for familiar faces and to hear my own Doctor's voice.
They had ordered a sonogram, and we saw our baby for the last time. For Joshua, it was actually the first and last time. For me, after that it seemed like we waited and waited for an answer that no one wanted to give us. Sure, we knew - there was no heartbeat, after all. Personally, I just wanted that answer spoken to me right away. I was shivering, I felt weak, my head was pounding. I just wanted my husband to sweep me up and get me out of there. I wanted to go home and see my baby girl.
I've decided to save the rest of this story for later. For now, I rest in truth, and I continue to seek knowledge from Christ. Because the joy He gives even the deepest grief cannot take away.
