Miracles Do Happen

I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. Psalm 40:1

I am pregnant.

I'm not sure I ever thought I'd type those words on this blog. After being disappointed time after time for almost 2.5 years, having tried everything short of IVF, I just couldn't believe a natural conception would ever take place. But it did.

As many of you know, I have been on Glucophage since the beginning of November after things went terribly wrong with my IUI/injectibles cycle in October. We had decided that would be our last cycle unless we did IVF someday. We were spent in every way, and I just couldn't take anymore. I was depressed and crumbling on the inside and out. I was defeated and I was done.

My RE suggested Glucophage for six months. I wouldn't have to be monitored and it would help me have a better quality ovulation. I essentially took my prescription and bid them farewell, happy to escape office visits and afternoon phone calls, figuring that this wouldn't work either. It was really just a way for me to ease myself off of fertility treatment without it seeming like such an abrupt end. It's hard to describe, but when you are in fertility-mode treatment for so long, even though I wanted it to be over, I didn't want it to be over. For my own well-being, I agreed to take it.

What I never detailed here was that we also started the adoption process in December. We were knee deep in it when we found out. We had paid out money, been fingerprinted and were in the middle of paperwork. We'd just had the first meeting with the adoption specialist. I had resigned myself that it just wasn't going to happen for us anytime soon -- if ever. The pregnancy was confirmed just 6 hours before our first adoption class began.

On March 9th at 7pm I took a test. I marched into the bathroom, took the test and placed it on the ground. I saw the control line and was convinced it was negative. I was crushed. I picked it up to look at it one more time before I was going to throw it away and I saw the faintest of faintest lines appear before my eyes. I just started shaking.

My beta was 297 at 16dpo the next day and declared "perfect" by the RE. It was 570 at 18dpo. At 6 weeks, we saw and heard the beautiful sound of a heartbeat at 112 bpm. And I finally got a picture of my uterus with something in it with my name at the top. How do I possibly explain what it was like to see my baby's heart beating away after all this time? To see a longing fulfilled? To experience grace in a whole new way?

I never thought I'd be able to see beyond the grief of the disappointment and broken dreams. Could something that good ever possibly happen to someone like me? Yet there was untold, unknown and unexpected joy ahead. Even in my doubt and cursing and frustration at God, His plan still stood. He didn't take back the"gift" that he had planned for me months down the road as my own mother had done one Christmas when I didn't meet her expectations as a child. He still loved me the same. He never changed. He was the same God in the pain and now in the joy.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring and there are many concerns, but I do know that on March 9th, the dawn broke and suddenly I was reminded of what I've been taught my entire life: God is a loving Father and longs to be compassionate and gracious to me.

There is something so beautiful and poetic about becoming pregnant in the Spring. After the long Winter of our trial, suddenly as the trees and grass have once again bloomed and become alive again, so has my spirit.

Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. John 16:20