It was the Friday before Mother’s Day – 4 1/2 years ago. I was 12 weeks pregnant with our second child and we were so excited to visit the doctor. We were looking forward to seeing the baby moving all over again and couldn’t wait to hear that fast heartbeat again. We sat down in the exam room with smiles on our faces and the doctor began the ultrasound. Quickly I knew something was wrong. The baby wasn’t moving and there was no heartbeat to hear. We left the office numb and I spent Mother’s Day knowing the little one inside had passed.
Fast forward several months and I found myself crippled with fear and unable to fully rejoice in the baby I was now 8 weeks pregnant with. The fear immoblized me. A bit reluctantly I attended a women’s conference with friends and during that weekend made the decision to walk in faith and trust my God with the pregnancy – whatever the outcome would be. I had made the decision to begin sharing the news of the pregnancy with friends and family. As we began the trip home, my body began to show signs of a possible miscarriage again. I chose to trust my very trustworthy God and not be consumed by fear. Not to return to that place I had been in, but to be grateful for the child I was carrying – regardless of whether or not the pregnancy would end in a safe, healthy delivery.
Fast forward 4 years later and I found myself at a women’s conference again (my first one since that one I just mentioned). This time as I walked in the doors I was quickly reminded of that place of fear, but more than that I was filled with overwhelming gratitude. That little one I was so crippled by fear over losing now is a vibrant part of our family…and he has a little brother and a little sister. The outcome of that story could have been much different, but it wouldn’t have changed the trustworthiness of my God.