Our small group leader gave the assignment a while back, and it seemed innocent enough. Write about the family you grew up with, how you became believer, a ‘kairos’ moment in your life, and a scar that you still carry and struggle with. The first two were fairly straight-forward (though certainly not easy). Even the scars part was simply a matter of narrowing down the list. But that kairos moment, a point in time where my life trajectory dramatically changed, that I was having trouble with. I guess I thought it should be a grand, “a-ha!” moment, where life came into crystal clear focus and I could make sense of things. That’s not me, or my life. As I thought more about it, a point in my life did start to come to the surface where I felt my walk with God was drastically altered, just not necessarily in a good way. And that point was when we decided to try starting a family.
Up till then, I could concede the point that I screwed up on a regular basis, but knew that God was always there, even when I went AWOL. Then we started the journey to parenthood.
It took a few months before I actually saw those two blue lines in the test window, and we were both giddy with excitement. We told family and friends right away, bought the bible of pregnancy (“What To Expect When You’re Expecting”), and daydreamed of what our little one would be like. We anxiously awaited that first doctor appointment, when he would tell us that everything looked as it should, and maybe, just maybe, we would see that little heart beating.
The day finally arrived, but things were not exactly as they should have been. We could see the sack, but no baby. The doctor wanted to run some other tests, perhaps our dates were wrong. That was when the dread and doubt began to worm its way in. Certainly God wouldn’t let anything happen. This baby was so wanted, so hoped for. But when the results came back, it was confirmed… no baby.
We were devastated and shaken, and inside, I secretly began to wonder how God could allow such a thing. I knew these sorts of things happened all the time, but to me? To us? WHY??
It took a little time, but we began trying to start our family once more. Now it was a bit more tentative, and tinged with anxiety. Would God be there this time? Perhaps if I prayed more, or was a better person… maybe He would allow us the joy of parenthood. Because I must have done something wrong the last time for it to turn out as it had.
Then the day came where I once again saw those two blue lines, but this time we were more cautious. We didn’t tell everyone right away, keeping our uncertain joy to ourselves. The last time, my doctor had determined I had low progesterone levels, and he wanted me to start supplements as soon as I found out I was pregnant again. Off we went to the doctor, and our first ultrasound was promising. There was the sac, and a little jelly bean inside. No heartbeat yet, but that was OK. All the while I prayed for this baby, for its safety, for us. Surely God would not get our hopes up only to dash them once again, right? At our next appointment, we knew we should see the heartbeat on ultrasound. The time leading up to that was a mixture of excitement and dread, hope and fear. And unbelievably (at least to me), I heard the doctor say he wasn’t sure, that things didn’t seem quite right. And with that, another strand in the cord of faith and trust in God was snapped in two.
A few months later we were pregnant for the third time. To say I was a tad nervous would be an understatement. Would we actually end up with a baby this time? Would God allow this child to be born into our family, to be loved and cherished and nurtured? Could I trust Him?
Well, that was over 13 years ago. This week we will celebrate the 13th birthday of my oldest child. The trust issue has lingered on however. Going through the process of hope and loss was a testing time for me, and I feel as though I have come out the other side lacking. Perhaps some day I’ll be able to reconcile a God who loves me with a God who allows such pain, but for now I guess I’m just not that mature. So I guess I’m asking for a measure of grace while I unpack the pain that I’ve kept hidden inside me for these many years, with the hope that I’ll learn from the journey He has seen fit to take me on.
