Answered Prayers

It’s been exactly two weeks.

I had another follow-up yesterday. I went in prayerful, hoping everything would be all right; but prepared for the worst. I hadn’t bled a bit since the last appointment. Not even a second dosage of medicine had helped.

I saw two different couples I know in the waiting room. I didn’t speak to them, just a polite smile. They were there for totally different reasons than me and I didn’t want to explain. One was an old friend from church, who I’ve known since - literally - birth. He was there with his wife and oldest son, and they are expecting their second. The other was a girl I’ve not seen in close to ten years, but we’re still facebook friends; and I know she’s pregnant from the pictures she’s been posting.

I had my ultrasound, then sat alone in the waiting room, mentally preparing myself for the worst. If I have to have surgery, it’s not the end of the world. Sure, it would mean a longer recovery time, a longer wait to try again. It would mean I definitely won’t be pregnant again for several months. A D&C runs the risk of infection, of scraping or tearing, potentially long-lasting effects on my fertility. But I can’t go there. I can’t think worst-case scenario. I have to focus on the positive. It’s only a little 15-20 minute procedure. It’s not open heart surgery. If you have to have it, you have to have it.

My doctor came in, friendly and chipper as always. She was just as friendly the day she broke the news to me, two weeks ago. But today she tells me exactly what I want to hear.

“It looks like everything is cleared out just fine!”

I gasp, and my eyes fill up - again - but this time with tears of joy. I don’t have to have surgery. My hCG level is low (23), almost back down to pre-pregnancy levels. I can try again soon. I’m overwhelmed. I tell my doctor that this is an answer to prayer, and she says “This morning, I remembered you were coming back in, and I prayed ‘Lord, please let her be cleared out and good to go!’” I’m an emotional wreck, but in the best way.

How thankful I am that Ashli is my doctor! I wasn’t even supposed to see her. I was scheduled to meet with Jessica, the gynecologist I’d seen two years ago for my last birth control refill. The day before that first fateful ultrasound, they had called and told me Jessica’s kids were sick and she would be out; and rescheduled me with Ashli. Everything has worked out so beautifully, even as painful and difficult as this has been.

So many answered prayers. Even if I’d been given the worst news possible, I hope I would still praise Jesus’ name. You can plan to, you can say “even if You don’t give me what I want, I’ll still love You, Lord” but when push comes to shove, do you mean it? Is that really what’s in your heart?

I have felt the relief of so many prayers being lifted up on our behalf, but this answered prayer seemed impossible. I am overcome with gratitude, with relief, with happiness. After my appointment, I meet Sierra at Goodwill and she hugs me while I cry - but only for a moment. I’m celebratory. We shop and eat, and I get a holiday drink from Starbucks because I'm full of holiday cheer today! My mood is so much lighter than it has been. The dark clouds in my mind are receding, and light is shining through. The weight that has borne down on my chest has been lifted.

A peppermint mocha, with one pump of peppermint and two pumps of mocha *bc hEaLtHY*

I’m not back to normal yet. Listening to my coworkers talk about mom life, seeing the pregnancy announcements and hospital birth-pictures and gender reveals on Facebook, or seeing my best friend’s little toddler cooing and clapping over facetime… they still make me wistful, longing for something that was almost within reach. But I’m feeling better, feeling more hopeful.

In my desk drawer at the office is one single pregnancy test I couldn't bring myself to throw away just yet. It's the only digital one I used, so instead of two little lines it spells out the result: Pregnant. That beautiful word. I had longed to see that, to be that. I'll keep it for a while - who knows how long? Until I no longer feel a sweet, nostalgic sadness when looking at it? Until I can replace it, perhaps?

Next time, I’ll be more cautious, more guarded. I will hold a precious secret until I feel comfortable telling everyone, and who knows how long that will be. I will hide it even from my coworkers, who see me every day, afraid of “crying wolf” again. I will take my vitamins and keep my caffeine intake low in preparation. Who knows? Perhaps the Lord will bless us with a baby by next Christmas after all.

The future looks brighter every day.