Every week at church we pray for the pregnant moms and those
who long to be pregnant. For the past year, I’ve cried silently through these
prayers… in joy as I secretly carried a little one in my womb, and in sorrow as
I twice lost my baby. Today, on my first Mothers’ Day, my eyes filled with
tears for a new reason.
Our journey started just about a year ago. We knew, from the
time Dan returned from his first deployment in 2011, that he would be off again
sometime in early 2013. So we nonchalantly decided that we would enter the
phase we entitled “not not trying” to
get pregnant. When I got pregnant almost
immediately after that decision, of course we were happy… but in spite of my
having watched other people’s children for 13 years, I was suddenly a little
worried. Our decision to start a family was kind of a logistical choice- we
would get pregnant and have a kid before Dan deployed, so he could be in on all
the fun. But what if we weren’t ready? What if we hadn’t spent enough time
together just as a couple? What if I was bored staying home by myself all day,
instead of working? What if we ended up regretting our decision? I would say
that my joy was a tempered joy- a hesitant joy- a frightened joy even. But I
never would have admitted that, even to myself.
I’ll never forget waking up eight weeks later in the middle
of the night, realizing that I had been tossing and turning for some time…
feeling the pain in my abdomen. As I tiptoed into the bathroom and spotted the
telltale trail of blood, I knew that there was nothing anyone could do for me.
I quietly drove to the store for some pain killers and cried myself to sleep on
the couch until I could see a doctor the next day.
We waited the prescribed number of months and tried again. I
remember leaving the pregnancy test in the sink and coming back later to find
the little plus sign smiling at me. I immediately praised God for hearing our
prayers and resolved to be truly thankful for this little one, no matter what
it meant for my future. But, we only had
a few days to enjoy our little secret before, again, Dan was holding me in his
arms as we gave up our wills and our little one to God.
As I listened to the sermon today about Abraham, the father
of nations, who waited decades for the fulfillment of God’s covenant, I was
challenged by this statement: “Trials, to a certain extent, measure the level
of faith we already have. But deeper than that, trials serve to FORM and
INCREASE our faith.” The patience is the blessing. The waiting is the gift. For
in those moments we discover new depths of God’s personality and love.
I learned through my wait for a baby that God is not out to
trick me. He wasn’t punishing me for my unbelief by taking my first two babies.
His heart broke along with our hearts, and He heard our sighs and counted our
tears. For weeks after confirming this final pregnancy, I would hold my breath
every time I went to the bathroom, expecting to see blood. I came to understand
that God’s heart is full of hessed-
overflowing loving kindness towards me- and that I didn’t need to live in fear
of what His next move would be.
I learned through my wait for baby that God has a lot of
work to do in me. No, he wasn’t punishing me for unbelief. But, He did reveal to
me a selfishness and independence that needed to be rooted out of my heart. I know it will be a lifelong process, and I’m
grateful for a patient Teacher.
And, I learned through my wait for Baby that, no matter what
joys or trials God brings into my life, His goal is always and forever to keep
drawing me closer and closer to Him. It’s one of those principles we all KNOW…
but it takes those dark, cold days for us to realize how incompetent we are to
meet our own needs.
So, on this Mothers’ Day- my first Mothers’ Day of sorts- I
sat in church and tried to keep the tears back as I participated in a
responsive reading to my daughter. Reciting the words of the great kings, David
and Solomon, I instructed my sweet baby to clothe herself in wisdom… to heed her
father’s instruction… to forsake not the teaching of her mother… to let her
father and mother be glad … that it might go well with her. And as I felt her
little toes and fingers push back at me, I basked in the precious gift of life
my Father has given me the privilege of carrying.
I still have lots of questions… What if God asks me to give
up this little one, too? What if she’s born with physical or mental needs? What
if her daddy never makes it back to see her beautiful face? What if we do our
best to raise her, and it doesn’t pay off? What if… what if… what if…
But, I’ve found such peace in serving a God that isn’t
intimidated by my what if’s! I can
say goodbye to my soldier boy and I can carry my little girl and I can look
forward to the future… all with absolute joy in the God who keeps covenants,
and gives strength in the waiting.
Happy Mothers’ Day!
