God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,
to the woman who diligently seeks.
It’s a good thing to quietly hope,
quietly hope for help from God.
It’s a good thing when you’re young to stick it out through the hard times.
But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
Because He has dealt bountifully with me.
“Well, you know how it feels if you begin hoping for something that you want desperately badly; you almost fight against the hope because it is too good to be true; you’ve been disappointed so often before. But it was no good trying to throttle this hope. It might – really, really, it just might be true. So many odd things had happened already.” – C.S. Lewis from the magician’s nephew
We were told by my doctor to take the next month off and begin the game plan with the following cycle. I watched my hormone levels do crazy things and knew that we still most definitely needed the boost to help us become pregnant again. In a way, it was validating. We weren’t trying too hard to force things, we truly needed help.
Early August, we began our next medicated cycle. I found myself fighting apathy. I had grown so weary of the whole roller coaster that I didn’t want to care but also wished I didn’t care as much as I did. It was such a mind game.
That month, I asked God for an early ovulation day. He granted. I asked Him for an early implantation day. He granted. For once, I felt all of my prayers– down to the most tiny of requests –were being graciously answered . And for the first time since I had ever tracked my cycle (ever, including with MG), I had a near perfect BBT chart.
Finally the day came to have my follicles checked and the shot administered. I felt hope creep back into my heart.
In the interim wait I heard again from my encouragement friend. She was writing to tell me that she had also heard back from another friend that didn’t know me but had prayed for me in her experiment. For some reason today, she felt deeply moved to send this to me:
“The LORD has not forgotten you.”
It was just the encouragement I needed to put the fight back in me. I felt all of the months of loss and despair go behind me. And while I did not have any guarantees as to what the next months would hold, I felt content that God would be giving us the desires of our hearts in His perfect timing….whatever that may be. How beautiful it is to walk in knowledge of God’s awareness.
Seven days passed and I began my daily HPT’s, searching for clues.
On day nine, the color faded, but not as much as I would have liked.
Days 10-11 were the same.
And then on day 12, the line appeared very dark. I began to get nervously excited. I showed my results to N. He said, “Let’s continue to pray you are pregnant.” I replied that I was still trying to convince myself of this, but this dark test told me that it was not IF I was pregnant, it was IF this pregnancy would be viable. Of course after two miscarriages, every hopeful thing is clouded with a little doubt and insecurity.
On day 13, the line was very dark. It was a Thursday and I contemplated how I would get in for blood work the following morning before 11am (they closed early on Fridays) when I had a commitment from 8:45-11, not including drive time.
And I thought. “Why not see if you can go today?” It was still 24 hours before they told me I could trust a home test, but I wasn’t sure how strict they would be about coming in a day early.
I called and they let me.
I waited anxiously for the phone call detailing results. But this time it was different. This time I had a dark test, significantly darker than it had ever been last time. And deep down, I knew that meant I was pregnant. Just how pregnant? And how healthy? Those were the questions I wrestled with.
The nurse called back mercifully early and I could hear a pep in her voice that had been missing from all previous conversations. “Well, your blood work came back at 63 which is great considering we usually like to see it between 50-100 at this point. Come back in two days to make sure it is rising.”
Sixty-three! Sixty-three! A beautiful, healthy number. I had told myself I would be happy with 20-30, and it had been more than double that!
And an added bonus-because N didn’t know I was going to the doctor that day (huh, neither did I!), I was finally able to pull out that card I had tucked away for him nearly 9 months ago (the MG shirt had been long outgrown) (also, coincidentally, I had “accidentally forgotten” to bring the card on vacation in July). I carefully wrote down all of the news and sealed and addressed the envelope as “SQUARE 2”, as we had joked that we were constantly trying to get out of SQUARE ONE all summer and God kept placing us back there.
When he arrived home from work, he immediately welled up when I handed him the card, before he even could read what was inside. He knew exactly what square 2 meant and that it was filled with joy. We laid on the bed and shed tears together. It certainly was not how I envisioned my announcement going 9 months ago, but our circumstances had changed us. Instead it was deep and beautiful and emotional. The perfect punctuation to our story.
And you know how the rest of it goes. The hormone levels continued to rise. The progesterone made me incredibly sick and I was finally able to wean off of it on week 10. We affectionately named our May baby, “Mayby” (a fitting name indeed after months of “maybe we are pregnant and maybe we are not”) and prayed for health and safety. She grew and let me know she was in there much earlier than her older sister with regular kicks starting at 15 weeks. We went in for the best news on December 24 and found out we were expecting a healthy baby girl.
Even though we had to grieve the loss of some of our dreams (like a 2012 baby) The “weird” thing was, all of our desires still came true. Just at a much different timetable than we ever expected:
-we were able to tell much of my extended family our news in person
-we were able to tell both of our families the gender news in person
-the girls will still be two grade levels apart, assuming that everything else matches up (just as N had desired)
-and overall, this pregnancy has been much more “by the book” than MG’s…which has been a nice little bonus
And really, the dreams we had to sacrifice are ones that now I can see were for the best. (the best gift of perspective has been all of my friends having their babies on “our” due dates and realizing that with each one, we are just not ready for that, yet.). And the timing of this baby is just beautiful in so many God-filled ways. I still don’t understand why we had to take this painful journey to arrive here, but He has continued to remind me of His love for me as He has revealed to me many small, but important to me, details in the timing of this entire thing.
I still don’t understand the miscarriage and what it meant for us, but I do know one redeeming thing that came out of it: remember how we originally told my family the pregnancy news in person before it turned into a miscarriage? Well we didn’t have a chance to experience telling them in person with Mayby, so I like to think of that as a little consolation prize. We got to have that moment with them when we did, not knowing that it wouldn’t be coming this time.
As I sit back and reflect on our story of the journey to Mayby, I can’t help but feel gratitude. A strange sentiment indeed to feel after so much confusion and darkness. But I truly feel thankful that God led us on this journey. Not only did it strengthen us and our resolve for one another, but it taught us how we respond during trials and disappointments. And the most important lesson of all: it taught us how much we have to be grateful for. And it is a lot, that is to be sure! One day I will be able to look in our Mayby girl’s eyes and tell her how much we longed for her. She will forever be a testimony of God’s love and faithfulness to us.
As always, thanks for reading and sharing in our journey.