Amanda’s Story

The morning was just like any other morning. I woke up. Had coffee with my husband. Did a little reading. Then headed to the bathroom after all that coffee. That’s when it happened. The dreaded monthly reminder that I was not pregnant. Again.

I know there are women that try for years and cannot get pregnant, however, I had been unable to relate to that sort of thing until then. I had three beautiful children. Every single one of them was conceived within one or two months of trying. I hadn’t given it much thought that there was a possibility that I couldn’t get pregnant. So when my husband and I decided we wanted to have another child, I was completely unaware of the journey I was about to embark on.

I remember talking with friends about our decision. I learned that I had a few friends who were trying too. We were filled with excitement that we would be pregnant and have little babies that would grow up together. When I would see a Pampers commercial I’d get teary eyed thinking about having another sweet little baby. We had names already picked out, and I bought three pregnancy tests.

Finally, that exciting day arrived! I took a test a few days early. Negative. I took a second test the day before I was supposed to start. Negative. I took the final test on the day I was supposed to start. Still negative. I finally understood that all these negatives were in fact telling the truth.

Friends asked me the outcome of my tests each month and all I could say was, “Don’t worry. It takes a few months!” I would be heavy hearted for a few days and then get ramped up for the next month—only to be let down again and again. Until June 2014.

It was Father’s Day, the day we saw the little pink line we had been waiting for. 

One morning about nine weeks in, I woke up and and saw something I was not prepared for. A spot of blood. I made the call and headed to the doctors office. As I sat and watched big bellied soon-to-be moms walk-in, the anticipation of the next few moments grew. Moments later I was on the table with anxiety so great I could barely stay put. Then the nurse said, “Everything looks good for five weeks and one day. It’s just a little early to see the heartbeat.”

My heart stopped.

Five weeks? I calculated and recalculated. This was not possible. I should be nearly nine weeks along. I was spotting and only measuring around five weeks. Something was not right. I had to go back in the lobby and wait again.

I sat down, all alone yet surrounded by expectant mothers and babies galore. Everyone around me was happy and smiling while I was dying inside. I held it together for a bit, but then tears began to roll down my face uncontrollably. I started to sob and hid my face in the chair. I felt ashamed and embarrassed that others would see me. Exposed for what was going on. Exposed for who I really was. I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life. The pain of that moment brings water to my eyes even as I type this.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

They called me back and the doctor explained I needed to wait a full week to check for growth. What? Wait? I needed to know that my baby was okay right now! There was nothing they could do. Only time would tell. I would have to go on with life as normal. One foot in front of the other. Step after step.

For we walk by faith, not by sight.
2 Corinthians 5:7

I cried myself to sleep that night. The next morning, I awoke to the stinging pain of the past day that penetrated my heart like an arrow. I was reminded that this was out of my control. I must wait. It was, however, in the control of my God. Everything I was facing was passed by Him before it came to me. He goes before me. He follows me. He sees me. He hears me. He understands my pain. In that moment I knew what I must do: pray.

I immediately shot out of bed and hit my knees on the floor. I began to pray like never before—fervently, like Hannah prayed in the book of Samuel. I was sobbing, face to the ground, crying out to my Father. The only One who could change the outcome of this situation. I cried out over and over, ” Lord please save this baby!” In that moment it was like time stood still. My eyes were so puffy I could barely see, but I cleaned myself up, and again, put one foot in front of the other.

That agonizing week finally passed. The day had arrived. We would know one way or the other. No more waiting. I wasn’t spotting anymore so I was still a bit hopeful. There it was. The sac was still there. But there was nothing in it. This was the moment I knew we had lost our little baby. My God did reply, but His response was not what my heart requested.

Even in the questioning, in the petitioning, in the waiting, in the lamenting. Even when my desires did not line up with His plan, His eyes see what mine cannot. I knew deep down, His unseen hand was working out something better for my good and for His glory. Following Christ doesn’t guarantee a life of happiness all the time, but it does give you lasting hope and joy amidst the struggles.

Maybe someone reading this needs to be reminded of this truth as much as I do: Even if you never get pregnant, even if you lose it all, even if this world fails us, He will not fail. He is faithful and He is good.

A year after this loss and being told that fertility treatments would be the only option for pregnancy, we naturally got pregnant with a little girl who arrived in January of 2016. My faithful God was indeed working out a perfect plan. I pray that this truth would imprint our hearts. He is good.

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Amanda is a follower of Christ, a wife, and a mommy to four on earth and one in heaven. She is a worship leader and ministry leader for the Student Ministry at her church in Mckinney, Texas. Her interests include spending time with family and community, refinishing furniture, and blogging.

 

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