It's nothing clever.
It didn't require much thought.
These numbers were just the only things that came to mind.
Both mean something to me, yet neither defines me. Thank God.
And maybe if you know me, or my awesome husband, you might already know exactly what these numbers stand for.
But if not, I'm thankful that you're reading.
I'm thankful to have this little space, albeit very neglected, to share our story, update everyone in one big swoop, and sort through the joys and heartaches of our little journey for myself, as I often come back to read and remember and give thanks for how God has blessed us...
and maybe, just maybe, I pray that it might even be just an ounce of encouragement to someone reading.
So this number: 5. Oh boy.
Well, it's the number of years I've been married to my best friend, most importantly.
December 2008.
It is an absolute bright spot in my life. He's pretty much IT to me. And still makes me feel as chosen and lucky today, as I did when we were 14 and he presented me with a little rose he hand-picked from his Grandma's backyard and kissed the mess outta me - for the first time - right outside of our 9th grade automotive shop class. And so here we are, 5 years married, 5 years happy, and living a life with all things beautiful...
5 = the number of years my body has shown itself and my doctor(s) that it doesn't work the way it's supposed to.
5 = the number of years my husband has wondered if his body is even capable of doing what it's supposed to.
It's been 5 very long, and at times, very gruesome years of waiting.
It's been a constant roller coaster - the emotional ups and downs of being patient in the waiting, and trusting God in the waiting...a daily relinquishment of laying down my earthly desires so that I can pick up the Heavenly desires that my faithful God has for me. And for my husband. For our family, and His picture of what that is really supposed to look like.
It ain't easy.
And it sure ain't pretty.
I've made a permanent relationship with Old Navy's yoga pants collection. They're my go to on the 'baby fever' days.But for the past TWO years, I've had a daily reminder of exactly why it IS. WORTH. IT. to lay aside MY dreams and trade them in for HEAVENLY dreams:
that little brown morsel there in the middle.
The truth is, regardless of how I've felt all these years about my 'broken' body, the divine plan for our children and our desire to grow our family is beyond what we can ever do. It's out of our hands. We can try and try and try some more. We can exhaust every emotion, every dollar we have, every doctor's opinion, every brand of pee stick, method of conception, fertility treatment...we can completely deplete ourselves of every ounce of hope there is by failing to recognize that there is a God above who IS in control, and that His ways are better. His ways are higher. There is nothing that we can do apart from Him. And it is better that way.
I knew this to be true when we started down the road to adoption and I had nothing but peace.
I knew this to be true when He faithfully provided for adoption expenses.
I KNEW this to be true when our little miss made us proud parents in less than 72 hours.
And I KNOW this to be true as I now look back on an adoption journey that totaled (from our first paperwork signatures to the day we brought our daughter home) the duration of a full term pregnancy.
Yeah, you read that right. 40 weeks. It took forty weeks.
...
And I knew this to be true, once again, just a couple of days ago, as I shockingly discovered that I was having a miscarriage.
Me? Pregnant. For the first time. 1
I was as shocked - my husband was as shocked - as some of you might be who are reading.
But it's true.
Although never confirmed on a stick, it was unfortunately confirmed through blood work and an ultrasound.
I'll spare many details, but I will tell you this:
The miracle began back in October. 4 months ago. I remember the exact day, and the exact moment when I knew something in our life was shifting. Something in my BODY was shifting. And after a very real, and very tangible moment with God, I was suddenly face-to-face with the confirmation that our desires to conceive have not been forgotten by the One who placed them there in the first place.
Month (November) after month (December) after month (January) signs of fertility made themselves known again. Things that haven't happened in years began again. And while I couldn't make sense of it all, I did know for sure that this was the beginning of something huge. All I could do? was trust.
And here was February, and I was just expecting her to make her little monthly appearance. Pregnancy test day came, and not to my surprise, it was just as I expected - negative. No big deal.
So I was at home, one day after that negative test, thinking that I'm dying from a possible ruptured ovarian cyst that just so conveniently accompanied February's red reminder. (I've struggled with these things in the past, so I was pretty certain I knew what I was dealing with.)
It was pain-to-the-FULL, though.
It was UGLY: husband has to rush home from work, poor kiddo is traumatized because mommy was crying in the bathroom....
I knew something just wasn't right.
My doctor was able to get me in the next day (stupid waiting), but I decided that was okay since I knew I was going to avoid a trip to the ER at all cost.
I made it through the night, but not without the worry increasing as I was having to change my clothes every 2-4 hours (more details I'll leave out).
Finally my appointment time came, and off I went by myself to *insert air quotes here* "just have the doc confirm that it's just a cyst, or a ruptured cyst, here's a prescription for some pain meds, get some rest, and I'll feel better tomorrow..."
An examination and ultrasound later, I felt like I was floating in mid-air, looking down at my poor pitiful self, as I tried my best to explain to my doctor that I just took a pregnancy test 3 days ago that was very clearly negative.
How in the world does that make sense?
And how in the world can it be fair that this is practically over with before I really even KNEW about it?!
But to her, my doctor, it did make sense.
It made sense as she was doing the ultrasound, pointing out the proof of the signs that there definitely had been life inside.
And it made sense to my sad little heart as I remembered back to October.
The pain of the past day and a half? the bleeding? and the worry? It wasn't over a cyst.
I walked out of the exam room with a 'prenatal workup' sheet in my hand, and orders to immediately head across town to have my blood drawn to officially confirm the presence of pregnancy, and proof of conception.
"The results should come within 48-72 hours," she said.
And that they did...confirming everything. Conception happened. HCG at "positive" levels. But it was over pretty much the moment it began.
Am I sad? Gosh. Beyond.
And I wouldn't even know where to begin to accurately describe how I feel.
But that call I received this morning didn't only confirm a miscarriage. No.
The miracle goes beyond the feelings of loss - and might I add: no matter how early on the loss took place.
My whole world just swells at the thought of knowing that I got pregnant. Pregnant.
My heart is rejoicing in knowing that we've now moved from what seemed impossible to now seeing with our own eyes that it is, indeed, very possible.
We work. Our bodies work. Thanks be to God.
And while it may not be the outcome that we have prayed and hoped for for so many years, God has still proven Himself Faithful as ever. And Powerful. And very much in control here.
So? I don't know much else than that. But we're glad to continue down the road that's been set before us. It definitely has not been easy, but to see the miracles we've been given, and to wonder what is in store for us next, we'll keep trusting. It's all we can do.
