On Expecting Goodness
A few months ago I wrote about my disappointment and grief on the day that would have been my estimated due date. I should have been anticipating the any-day-now arrival of our second child, but… I wasn’t.
We lost that baby on December 6. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: My baby was not taken by God because He has “a better plan,” No. She was stolen from me by satan, and I refuse to attribute his works to my Jesus and call it sovereignty. It’s God’s good pleasure to give me good things and He holds nothing back. So I will expect His goodness, even when my circumstances are less than good. I will not allow my experiences to define who God is.
In the days after the miscarriage, there was a deep desire of my heart that I was scared to ask the Lord for or even admit to myself. But it was there, gnawing, all the same. I want to be pregnant again on my estimated due date. That wish sat at the back of my mind over the following months as we hoped and hoped and hoped and were disappointed time and time again.
I began to think it wouldn’t happen. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I started obsessively reading WebMD on my phone looking up obscure conditions and realizing with horror that I have one or two of the symptoms, I must have This Thing, I’m never getting pregnant again, I’ll never have the family I imagined.
Then that still small voice spoke gently to me, “Stop. Stop worrying about this. Just live.” So, that’s what we did. I enjoyed every moment of the summer doing things you can’t do when you’re pregnant. I learned to appreciate my little girl and my precious time with her. We let go of what our family was supposed to look like and embraced what our family did look like, might look like instead. I finally relaxed, stopped charting my cycle, stopped wondering if this would be The Month.
It was during this time that the due date snuck up on me, and I was completely blindsided.
On the day I wrote that post… on my estimated due date… I was pregnant, though I didn’t know it. God heard the prayer I never prayed, knew the deepest, most guarded desire of my heart, and gave it to me, surprised me with it. Don’t you love when He does that?
Today, I’m 12 weeks along (in my second trimester) and due in April. Soon we’ll be finding out whether we’re having a boy or a girl (we think boy), and we’ve already received numerous words about this baby’s destiny and identity. This time, Isabella is old enough to understand what’s happening, which is wonderfully sweet. She says “baby,” she kisses my belly, she diligently carries around a baby doll.
Still, this wasn’t my plan. If things had gone right, I would be holding my newborn right now. However, I’ve determined not to let the grief of losing one baby dampen the joy of expecting another. I have to admit, the season is bittersweet, but becoming sweeter by the day as I watch my belly grow and begin to dream again.