“I should have known. Still too early,” I said as I threw the second pregnancy test in the trash. I scolded myself because I had promised myself that I would wait until I had actually missed my period. OR wait a significant amount of time after missing my period. OR better yet, try to be one of those people who just “happened” to find out they were pregnant. Surprise!
Nah. I could never be that person. I am too much of a planner.
But the problem was my period was due that day, and I was still shooting blanks. Each pregnancy test I took was negative. Whatever, I thought. I’ll just wait for my period to come.
Each time I took a test I tried to hide the test, to hide my anticipation because I didn’t want to get my or my husband’s hopes up. We had tried and failed before. We had learned the hard lessons of recognizing that a positive pregnancy test did not necessarily mean a baby on this side of heaven.
Unfortunately, due to my highly aware nature, when we are trying to conceive, my thoughts are consumed with every twinge, prick, and cramp. I can’t let it go.
And the two week wait?
It’s torture. I know I’m not the only one who is strung out by these two weeks, but I am amazed when reading others’ stories of how they, on a whim, decided to take a pregnancy test and BOOM. They find out they are pregnant. Flash forward to the OB appointment and she realizes she’s already past her first trimester. What? I had no idea!
Sigh. That could never be me.
So when Monday rolled around, I was two days late. And there were no signs of Aunt Irma.
I felt like the grinch, standing there in my bathroom, “puzzl[ing] and puzzl[ing] until [my] puzzler was sore.” I knew when I had ovulated, and I knew I should be getting some signs or symptoms of period or pregnancy.
I continued to wonder.
Looking back under my sink, I pulled out the pregnancy test strip box. I had bought very cheap tests on Amazon: no fancy packaging. And I could test as much as I wanted without feeling guilty about spending money on pregnancy tests. I looked at the instructions and saw that you had to wait 5 minutes to see results.
What had I done?
I had peed in a cup, put the stick in the cup, saw only one line, and immediately threw the test in the trash. I had continued doing that subsequent times. Did I really need to wait a whole 5 minutes? Shouldn’t a positive pregnancy test be immediate?
I guess not.
Because when I dug out the previous tests from the trash, there they were. Two little pink lines. And as I lined up the tests, I could see the second pink line getting darker and darker each test I took. But you know what? I didn’t believe it, and I wanted to be “extra” sure, so I waited until the next day before taking another pregnancy test. This time following the directions on the box (super important).
And what do you know…positive.
I left all the tests lined up by the toilet for my husband to see. Romantic, I know. I waited and he called my name.
“Em?” he called.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Ummm I think these are all positive?” he questioned, scrutinizing the tests.
“Ha, yeah, I think so,” I said sheepishly.
“So does that mean we’re pregnant?” my husband said, his eyes growing wide.
“I think so,” I said nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders, and grinning from ear to ear.
But little did I know that the control I wanted to have over this pregnancy would be tested.
Because even in all of our excitement, I tried to push down my feelings of hope. I tried to pretend like I didn’t care. I thought, if I didn’t care, then I wouldn’t be so hurt if we miscarried. Ha, right.
A couple of weeks later, I felt cramps. These cramps devastated me because they were cramps I recognized…from a previous miscarriage. My stomach seized in cramps for several days, and I felt more and more defeated. And finally, at the end of the week, I saw blood in the toilet.
I cried more out of anger and resentment than actual grief at losing this child.
Because, in all honesty, I had not accepted that I was even pregnant. Keeping my mind and heart distant from even recognizing those positive tests, I knew this exact thing would happen. I was the one in control. I had guessed correctly.
Jonathan and I called our parents crying. We were telling them the sad news before we had even told them we were pregnant again. They cried with us. I had written the doctor and told her that I wanted to see her as early as possible next week to discuss our options. In my head, I knew the end results.
Arriving at the doctor’s office, I tried to keep my feelings in check. I was seasoned in this area.
The ultrasound tech took me back. She had me lay down. As I laid down, I kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling. I didn’t need to see what was on the screen. My callous heart tried not to crack as she performed her examination.
I laid there for what felt like eternity. How long did she need?
“There’s a heartbeat,” she said quietly, feeling my misery.
I looked at her not quite comprehending what she had said. “What?” I questioned because I didn’t want to seem too hopeful.
“Theres a heartbeat. It’s a little low because his or her heart probably started beating a day or two ago. But we will check you again next week to make sure that everything is good.”
There’s a heartbeat.
A heartbeat! I asked immediately and graciously if I could hear this precious beating of life. The blessed sounds of a beat beat beat. Those cherished sounds reverberated off the walls of my womb, creating life waves!
After getting all checked out, I left that appointment with a mascara-stained face, a shocked but joyous heart, and a new conviction.
Lord, I will trust you.
Whatever you decide is best for me, I have to trust that you are the one in control. And you are a good God who is in control.
I had tried to take my own pregnancy into my hands, thinking that if I felt a certain way, then events would turn out how I thought they should. Stuart Hall pointed me to this idea that I was looking for certainty, but God was asking for my trust. I wanted control, and God said, just open your hands and your heart to me. I wanted to know the outcome and temper my feelings just so, but God said, I have given you a heart to feel. Don’t let it ice over. Even a broken, feeling heart will heal and put itself back together.
Lord, I pray to give this whole pregnancy to you.
Not in the hope that I can detach my heart from this living being in my womb, but that I would trust you to have your way in this season of my life. I don’t want to cling too tightly to the things that I am trying to control. Every twinge, pain, cramp to you I give to you. I will try not to fret over every little thing that I cannot control. Thank you Lord for the miraculous life inside of me.
And so a deep, eternal hope takes the place of fear, and I am excited to welcome another play buddy for our baby boy…ahem…little man (no longer a baby…more tears from this mama). I am looking forward to him becoming a big brother and teaching his little brother or sister the ropes. And although pregnancy is never straight-forward, God will be my constant rock through everything that pregnancy brings.
