In this week’s study, one of the topics we are given the opportunity to write about is this:
Life Interrupted – Some of God’s greatest gifts are “wrapped in unlikely packages.” Share how God has used a challenging time in your life and worked in it for your good.
When I read that, I knew exactly what I would share. If I decided to share. Which I decided, yes, I should definitely share.
In August 2009, I married my husband and we decided to start trying for a baby in January of 2010. So, we tried. And I immediately got pregnant. I. Was. SHOCKED. Why was I shocked, you may ask? Because I have endometriosis, and I had 2 surgeries in the 4 years prior to this time to get rid of the scar tissue that was built up on all my inner lady organs. I had a lot of pain for a lot of years, and endo is also a huge obstacle in getting pregnant. Also, I was 36 years old. I had a doctor tell me that I would almost certainly require assistance in conceiving based on the combo of this “advanced maternal age” and the endo. He all but told me not to get my hopes up when I decided to start trying. I was so upset. I had LONGED to be a mother for as long as I can remember.
So, when I got pregnant on the first time at bat, I was like, “SAY WHAAAAAAAT?!” I was so happy. That is, until I lost the baby almost 8 weeks later.
To say I was devastated does not do the emotions I felt any justice. I was numb throughout the whole ordeal (which was painful and hideous and insane) and then I was comforting my mom and my mother-in-law and all who cried for me. “It’s okay, this was in God’s plan,” I would say. And I believed that, I really did (and still do). I’ll be fine, I told everybody. I was as strong as I could be when I got my ultrasound that we all knew would not find a heartbeat. And then through my D&C. And then when I got home and had to try to live my life.
Ha ha. I was SO NOT FINE. After the dust cleared and my Vicodin prescription ran out, I was a TOTAL MESS. I fell apart. I wept. I feel like I wept for months. And I guess I did; in those few weeks, I became fully attached to that baby (whom I really think was a girl. Don’t ask me why…but when I think of this baby, she is a girl!), and I had plans for her and dreams and there is just no way to describe the feeling of being pregnant unless you’ve done it. It’s a TRIP. Anyway, the doctor told us to wait 3 months to try again. Those three months were terrible. Every time I would see a baby I would lose it. But during those three months, every single day during my lunch hour, I would go on long walks in a park near the place where I worked. I prayed for that hour every single day as winter turned into spring, just prayed and prayed and talked to God and marveled how I was getting to experience the barren trees suddenly have teeny buds on them…and then little leaves…and by the time May rolled around, 3 months later, the flowers were blooming and the trees were green and full and the birds were singing and everything felt beautiful and bright and new. In those three months, in the midst of this new life budding in nature all around me, I also became really scared to try again. Scared to find out if my baby-cooker was all messed up. Scared to let God take another baby away if that was His will for me.
We actually tried again after 2 months, and truthfully I was almost relieved when it was a no-go. We tried at 3 months, which fell right around my birthday. I remember that birthday so well…we went out for hot wings and my husband surprised me with a new bike.
Early June rolled around, and on my lunch break at work, instead of walking in that park, I went to the drugstore to buy a pregnancy test. Because I knew. I just knew.
And there I was. Pregnant again. And terrified to tell anyone or let myself be happy about it, because I didn’t think I could take losing another baby.
I made a doctor appointment and had a blood test, and they called me to tell my my HcG (or is it HgC? I always forget) numbers, and wanted to schedule an ultrasound right away. Which I thought was weird, because my ultrasound was at 8 weeks before, and this was only 6 weeks. Oh well, what do I know? So I went in for the ultrasound and my husband went with me. I will never forget what the ultrasound tech said:
“Huh! There’s two in there!”
The noise I made cannot be typed, as I don’t think a word exists for a laugh/gasp/confused groan. And the only thing my husband said was, “Can you make sure there’s not three in there??” Ha.
Twins. I lost a baby and then God gave me two.
It has proven to be the most amazing blessing of my life. I was just telling somebody today that I didn’t fully understand the miracle of having one healthy baby, let alone two or more at a time. I had a really happy pregnancy and a crazy, sleep-deprived first year of their sweet little lives. (Everyone told me I was crazy to breastfeed twins. And it was soooo challenging. But I did it! I did it until they were two. I just treasured them so much. Still do.)
Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with these two amazing little people. Thank you for giving me the strength to get through losing that baby (that baby who is with you right now), to get through that pregnancy, get through that first year after they were born, and that second year. P.S. This 2nd half of their second year is really interesting. These many tantrums per day are…yeah. Interesting. We have a lot of awesome, fun, amazing, sweet times, as you know. But MAN. Two of them tantruming out at the same time? Cray-cray. But seriously. What a gift they are. Thank you, Lord, for Max and Hazel. Thank you.