For This Child I Prayed

<sup>Read Part 1 of my pregnancy story here.

“</sup>For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him.”

1 Samuel 1:27

We moved into our new home in September. By January, there still existed  a few junk rooms filled with unpacked boxes and miscellaneous items. The room on the second floor with a door to hide everything didn’t bother me so much. It was the room on the first floor that was an embarrassment. I decided to conquer one of those rooms one afternoon during my Christmas break. Jake silently refused to go through boxes of his old college homework, notebooks, etc. so I decided to take them on. He was being useful and manly elsewhere, as usual, hammering some nails into the roof that afternoon.

Out of one of the boxes I pulled a journal dating back to his freshman year of college. We both were in undergrad together at VCU and I found some written prayers about us and our future. I found it adorably attractive that he was already praying about marriage. I decided that since it was more than five years old and we were married now that it was sort of like public record. I flipped through and smiled at all the ways God had answered his prayers. I began to close the journal but at a glance I read the words “Hannah” and “pregnant” in the same sentence. Jake had written:

 “Hannah could not become pregnant in her own strength so she humbly pleaded before the Lord that he would help her. Once He did, she acknowledged God for his help and was overjoyed.”

Woah. What in the world? How did freshman year Jake know about our desire and struggle to become pregnant? Pregnancy hadn’t even crossed my mind during freshman year of college. What did Jake know that I didn’t? I checked the dates once more and confirmed they were in fact from that year. I read on.

Soon, I realized that Jake had been taking notes on a passage in the Bible about a woman named Hannah. Hannah desired to have children but was barren for years. She pleaded with the Lord for a child. When she humbly bowed herself before him, he heard her cry and she became pregnant with Samuel. This baby, Samuel, grew up to live an amazing and holy life for God and is one of the greatest prophets of the Old Testament.

Back to my story…All I could think about that week was pregnancy. And I had decided to clean that room to take my mind off pregnancy. I couldn’t escape it. I wanted so very much to find that we had conceived this time. I knew God would provide at just the perfect time. The waiting was the hard part. I couldn’t turn off my mind and pretend I didn’t care if it had happened this time. So when I read this, I was comforted, knowing that for the Hannah in the Bible, she couldn’t become pregnant on her own and I couldn’t either. This time that reality lifted all the weight I had been carrying. OK God, I thought, I think I get the point this time. You’ve got this, so I can really stop worrying.

A few days later, the Lord let me in on his plans: beautifully delicate double lines on a pregnancy test! I was pregnant! As I stood there in awe of His work, there was a heavy peace and soberness as I reflected on all the months past. There was no bitterness or resentment that the Lord would withhold this gift till now. He was good. His timing was good. The refining of my soul had been good. He had been preparing me to be a mother that sought Him before anything else. The emptiness of my womb had been good, as each passing month I had been filled more with Christ. The discontentment I felt in this world was good, pointing me to the brevity of my life and reminding me of my home in heaven. But now was the time for celebration! The Lord had heard our petition!

I'm sharing our story so that you know it's not always as easy as it appears. There were so many times when I’d get on Facebook and see 17 new pregnancy announcements (I exaggerate). It just seemed so easy when in reality, it’s often not. I pray you are filled with hope at all the Lord has planned for your family. If you’ve had trouble conceiving, my heart aches with you. No matter how long it takes, don’t give up on the Lord. His timing can feel like eternity, but in the end his plans are always more beautiful than our own. Humble yourself before the Lord and share with him the desires of your heart.

To the one who is struggling to find comfort in barrenness, wait on the Lord.

To the one who says “time is running out,” wait on the Lord.

To the one who thinks God doesn’t hear, wait on the Lord.

“He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!” Psalm 113:9

Finding Hope for Pregnancy

This morning, I sit here smiling as I feel my baby moving within me. The feeling is like nothing I've ever felt and I thank God for such a precious gift. Although this is the first child I've been able to feel move in my womb, it's not my first baby. I'm looking forward to meeting that first little soul at the gates of Eternity.

***

Tears streaked my face as I endured waves of pain. Jake drove fast, clutching the wheel with intensity. We both knew that when we arrived, the pain wouldn’t stop but that it was best to be out of the car. When we got home, I ran to our bed and bawled. The heaviness of my heart hurt so more than my body. “The Lord is faithful to all He has made,” we recited and read from the Bible over and over in the car. We held our ground and believed that He had the power the deliver and heal me at that moment. But as the pain pervaded, we started to feel sick to our stomachs. Why would God take away precious life that he had given? I was so perplexed…crushed like nothing I can describe.

It took me weeks to tell anyone other than my family. One morning we were at some friends’ home for brunch. The husbands had gone in the living room to talk technology as the girls continued to chat at the table. It was a hot morning and the sun streamed in the window with persistence.  “How’s it going with baby stuff?” One of them asked excitedly.  Everyone knew I’d wanted a baby since forever and the time had finally come for us to try. As soon as she asked, the past few weeks of heartache tumbled out without my control. Hardly able to speak, I managed to get out a few words through tears, “I was pregnant, and now I’m not.”  “Oh, Hannah.”, she said with tears in her eyes. I managed to get through the short, little story of my baby’s coming and going. “I trust that God is good, so I know He’s somewhere in all this but I just can’t see where yet. It hurts so much.” I said, looking at them for any encouragement they could think of.  It’s tough to give advice when someone is grieving because the person is so fragile. One careless word, and I could have been very easily scarred during that time.

“The Lord knows exactly what your future family looks like,” she said. He knows at what hour and day each child will put their trust in Jesus, when they will meet their spouses, and when they will meet their Creator in Heaven.  His will is good and perfect…and He mourns with you.”

I had made up my mind the day after it happened that I had a choice. I could be angry with God or confused. I knew He was good but I didn’t understand how He let things like this happen. I chose to be confused. When Sara spoke those words over me that morning, I started to feel healing. My mind had been so ravaged by emotion, I couldn’t make sense of what had happened. There was no wisdom or energy to try to find a greater purpose.

Do you need to know the details? How far along I actually was? If you asked any mom, they’d probably tell you it hurts to lose a life no matter how much time you had with a little one. But to share with you the extent of instant, maternal love, I was only 5 weeks along.

***

We decided not to try for a while for various reasons. Finally, it was time. I thought God would have mercy on us because of what had happened and expected to be pregnant right away. I could hardly wait to test. Half a week after ovulating, I’d prance to the bathroom, hoping for a positive. But no matter how long I stared at that stick with one stupid, single line, I couldn’t make myself pregnant.

My excitement to test waned as the months went on. After a few months, I didn’t even test because I had become so aware of my body. The tests just made the reality harder. Who knew this whole conceiving thing would be so stinking painful? Who would have guessed that it’d be such an emotional and spiritual roller coaster? I sure didn’t.

I was reading a pregnancy blog the other day and the woman was a mess about her fear of infertility. She wrote a 4-part entry about her “journey to pregnancy”. Want to know how many times they had to try before they had a successful pregnancy? Twice. I had started to read it, hoping to find comfort in another person’s conceiving hardships. When I read that she got pregnant on their second try, I was just a little bit annoyed. But the Holy Spirit stepped in and reminded me that there are stories of such greater hardship than mine. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve tried or how many babies you’ve had to say goodbye to, it all hurts. And He hurts with us.

I didn’t really share with Jake the depth of my fears during this time because it hurt more to speak it out loud. I was ashamed at my lack of faith and hopeless attitude. I’m sure if I had shared more, he could have encouraged and led me to a better understanding of God’s plans for us.

One particular month, I thought for sure I was pregnant. I tested and although it was negative, I knew it just had to have worked this time. The next morning, I was awoken in the night by painful cramps and disappointment.  As I lay there half awake, coming to the realization that there was no new life within me, I heard the words of a song playing in my mind as I grieved, “Fearfully and wonderfully and beautifully made,” I was surprised to feel peace as the song played over and over in my mind. I knew the Lord had used songs to comfort me in the past so I let Him sing.

The song’s lyrics are based on a Psalm in the Bible:

   “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.”

-Psalm 139:14

At first (considering I was half asleep), I didn’t know what God was trying to say with the song. I accepted the fact that it brought comfort to my heart. As the morning went on, I realized the words spoke to my deepest fears about conceiving. If you’ve ever tried to become pregnant and had any sort of trouble, you’ll understand. For the past few months, day and night, I was constantly plagued by the fear that I wasn’t made adequately to have babies. I was so scared that there had been a mistake or that something was broken…that I had the desire for children but no ability to carry them.  And though I barely even admitted it to myself in those months, God had seen and felt and heard my fear. And He sang, “You, my child, are fearfully and wonderfully and beautifully made and you WILL conceive.” Looking back, it brings me to tears. His love for us is unimaginable. And His plans are perfect.

Could I walk humbly before God and believe that He made me without flaw? Even after a miscarriage? I struggled to do just that. I’d like to think that at this point, I started to change how I approached God about my fertility. But I can’t really pinpoint one specific instance when I decided I would now trust his plans. It was a constant, daily battle to give up my plans and declare that I was 100% accepting of God’s future for our family. 

Read the second part of our story here.

My Vintage Wedding Dress

As soon as Jake proposed, naturally, I started looking for a dress. I tore through countless bridal magazines and performed hundreds of internet searches. Sadly, I just wasn’t impressed with the selection. There were lots of beautiful dresses but none that I had imagined wearing at a southern farm wedding in my parents' barn. With a small budget and high standards, I knew it was going to be a challenge to find a dress.

I had one requirement for wedding dress shopping: I would not step foot into a stuffy bridal boutique…the kind where they serve bubbly water and artificial opinions. Fortunately, I soon realized the texture and style I had in mind echoed of another age and I knew I wouldn’t find it regular bridal shop (whew!)

I deemed my dream dress to be of vintage origins and set out to find it, however long it would take. Were vintage dresses more money? I didn’t have a clue. My mom and I decided to go to some antique stores to scout out our playing field. After stumbling upon one-too-many long-sleeved, polyester, 1970’s dresses, I started to realize how hard it would be. But hope wasn’t lost until all resources had been exhausted...we hadn’t actually been to any clothing-specific vintage shops yet.

One Saturday morning, my mom and younger sister, Rachael, made a trip here to Richmond to begin our vintage clothing shop conquest. With only two places in mind, we agreed we needed backup.  We sat in the car before our search began and prayed that God would help us find the perfect dress he had already chosen for me (I highly recommend this practice). 

Bygones Vintage Clothing in Richmond, VA

The first shop on our list, Bygones, was just charming. Heading over to the first thing I saw, I started fumbling through some 1950’s party dresses attempting to look unsuspicious as not to attract any special attention. My plan went awry almost as quickly as it had begun when Rachael called out for all to hear, “Hannah, the wedding dresses are back here!!!”

In the tiny dressing room with a curtain for a door, unreasonable amounts of shuffling, and squawking took place in order to get into a dress and out the “door." I soon realized why brides preferred those uppity shops. 

As soon as it was buttoned, I knew this was the dress. It needed some work, but it was just what I had envisioned…intricate cascading lace, a full skirt, and a 1950’s waistline.

 

I tried on two other dresses and decided that they didn’t compare to the first. I wiggled back into the dress with billowing lace. By this point, employees and customers had gathered round to see which dress I would choose. Feeling a bit pressured to produce some Saturday afternoon entertainment for these people, I announced that this was the dress. My mom stuffed me and the dress back into the fitting room and out I popped minutes later, ready to make my purchase.

As I signed the check, I thanked God for providing such a perfect dress with such a lovely price. The dress ended up being a whopping $375! You can’t beat that kind of deal for all that lace. The woman at the checkout recommended a seamstress who specialized in vintage dresses. When we got in the car, we called the seamstress who told us she was free right then. We scurried on over and had the most charming meeting. She was confident that she would be able to fix up the dress to my liking.

“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress,

and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” Isaiah 61:10

Tips for finding a vintage wedding dress:

 1) Pray 

• The Lord loves to give good gifts to his children! (Matthew 7:11)

 2) Locate vintage clothing stores in your state

• Do a google search for stores

• Ask vintage clothing shop owners where other stores are located

• Call before going to a shop to find out their hours, wedding dress inventory, etc.

  3) Shop online

• Beware that it can be hard to tell the quality of the clothing from a picture 

•  BARGAIN! There aren't a ton of people looking for vintage wedding dresses so sometimes vendors are in a hurry to sell, even at a lower price than listed.

• Etsy.com 

• Ebay.com

• Pinterest.com

4) Be aware that most 1950's waistlines are pretty tiny...like 24 inches tiny. And the boob area is usually pointy (not a fan).

5) Find a seamstress that you can trust. Make sure she specializes in vintage clothing. Most vintage needs a good, long soak to remove stains and dust. You really don't want to give the dry cleaner an opportunity to kill a 60-year-old dress.

6) Ask your grandma, great grandma, your fiance's grandma, and your friend's grandma if you can rummage through their attic for their wedding dress (try and find a picture first so you know what you're getting yourself into!).

 

7)  Other places to keep your eye out (Call ahead to ask about their selection):

• Estate Sales

• Antique Malls

• Thrift stores

My Flesh and My Heart May Fail, Part 2

“I hear the Savior say,
Thy strength indeed is small;
Child of weakness, watch and pray,
Find in Me thine all in all.”
 -Elvina M. Hall

 If you haven’t read part 1, you can find it here. 

 It was 9:30 PM. I had just come home after a long day at school followed by an evening at church for youth group. I had a paper to write and my body hurt. My muscles were in all kinds of knots and my stomach was refusing to digest whatever I ate for dinner. I was frustrated with my body, but mostly with God. I knew he had kept my heart from damage, but that didn’t mean there were no other lasting effects from sickness.

 I had dozens of conversations with my parents about how I was feeling. Throughout my childhood, I leaned on my parents for advice, answers, and faith to believe God when things got tough. But as I fell deeper into this darkness, no person could give me the answers I needed this time. Through my tears, questions I hadn’t cried since that sickly summer day spilled from my mouth, “Why me? Don’t you see me? Can’t you hear my crying?” I couldn’t stop sobbing, partly from the pain and partly from my deepening hopelessness. “If this is what it feels like to live, I’m don’t want to anymore. 

 But… 

Lord, if this is your plan for me…if you can tell me there’s more to this struggle than what I can see, I’ll endure it.” 

 I decided to read a Psalm because at that moment I felt like David, writer of some of the most eloquent groaning in the Bible. I opened up to Psalm 105. I wasn’t really in the mood for what the title foretold, “Tell of All His Wonderful Works” but oddly, I decided to keep reading. It started off strong, “…let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice!”

"Lord, I’m seeking…can I rejoice now? Please, just show me what all this is for." But, at this point I was starting to sniffle again.

 Reading on, I soon realized that this was the moment God would begin to answer my aching questions.

 “He [God] called for a famine on the land of Canaan,
cutting off its food supply.
Then he sent someone to Egypt ahead of [God’s people]—
Joseph, who was sold as a slave. 
They bruised his feet with shackles
 and placed his neck in an iron collar.
 Until the time came to fulfill his dreams,
 the LORD tested Joseph’s character. 
Then Pharaoh sent for him and set him free;
 the ruler of the nation opened his prison door.” Psalm 105:16-22


I knew the story of Joseph, how his jealous brothers threw him in a well, then sold him as a slave and told his dad a wild animal had killed him. But in the past when I read Joseph’s story, I never saw the overarching purpose. I admit, I assumed Joseph’s ultimate success as Governor of Egypt gave him a reason to laugh in his brothers’ faces. But I had missed something huge. What Joseph’s brothers had intended for his destruction, God intended for Joseph’s refinement, and ultimately, God’s glory. Throughout, God was building Joseph into a man that trusted and desired to know Him.

 “But the LORD was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love and gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison.” Genesis 39:21

 Raised up as Governor of Egypt, Joseph did have an opportunity to laugh in his brothers’ faces. During a great famine, his brothers came to Egypt to buy food. They didn’t recognize him but he knew who they were. The Bible says Joseph had to excuse himself, as to not let them see him “weeping loudly”. When he had regained composure, what he did next just blows my mind.

 “So Joseph said to his brothers, “Come near to me, please.” And they came near. And he said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life.” Genesis 45:4

Seriously, Joseph? Not even a single smack over the head? Not one guilt trip or intentional display of all your prison scars? No, in the midst of his suffering, he had long realized his grand purpose. Through him, God had preserved his chosen people in famine. And when he finally met with the men who deserved nothing but to starve, instead he forgave.

 That night, my outlook on suffering totally changed. God was inviting me to be apart of his grand plan, but first had to get my attention and change my attitude of entitlement. When everything else seemed painfully uncertain in my life, I finally realized the things that are certain: God’s unchanging love for me even in the midst of my sinful anger and Jesus’ willingness to take my sin on himself and his ultimate promise of eternal life where there will be no more tears and pain.

 “God is most glorified in you when you are most satisfied in him. God’s design to pursue his own glory turns out to be love. And our duty to pursue God’s glory turns out to be a quest for joy.” -John Piper

Since that night, I’ve been learning to bring God glory no matter what my circumstances look like. And you know what happens when I do so? A deep, resounding joy fills my life, right down to my soul. I look forward to a day when God will make all things new, including my body.

 “So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small…compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.”
 2 Corinthians 4:16-18, The Message

My Flesh and My Heart May Fail, Part 1

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”    Psalm 73:25

From my bedroom window, I watched with tears in my eyes. Their cheeks were rosy with youth and eyes sparkling with anticipation. As the day went on I could hear their laughter run up and down the stairs, back and forth past my doorway. I could see out, but did they see in?

It was the first day of summer as my sisters ran through the sprinkler. The smell of hamburgers sizzling on the grill drifted in through my window, but seemed to stop in my room like a rain cloud.  Close by, across the yard, my mom looked up from her basket of bright red tomatoes and smiled at my giggling sisters.  She seemed to sense my wet eyes about to fog up the window, and quickly met them with a look of love that longed for a different summer day. A day when I would be running beside my sisters with just as much life. But that was no where in sight.

I shuffled myself around in bed so as not to have a view of the festivities below. I wanted to blame someone but I knew it wasn’t my mom’s fault. I grabbed my journal and began to feverishly scribble the thoughts thundering in my mind, “Why me?? Don’t you see me? Can’t you hear my crying? Why did it have to be me?” As I beat against His chest with the only strength I had, you know what I heard? Nothing. Except the pounding of my weak, little, 12 year-old heart.

Very slowly, days crept into months. Blazing sores lined my throat, fever raged war against my aching my body and depression hollowed out my insides.

“Oh honey! When you get to heaven you’ll be able to ask God why this happened to you,” I remember hearing a family friend say to me one cold, autumn morning. And I entertained the thought, hoping with all my heart He wouldn’t wait till after I died for my answer.

After too many tight rubber bands wrapped around my arm, nurses who couldn’t find my vein, shirtless echocardiograms, and popsicle sticks stuck down my throat, the diagnosis became definite: Rheumatic Fever.

Rheumatic Fever is a disease that often comes from an untreated or mistreated case of Strep throat, as my condition had stemmed from.  It is an inflammatory disease that can swell the heart, joints, skin, and brain. It’s pretty rare in America.

A few months earlier, I was very sick with Strep throat. When we went to the doctor, she prescribed Amoxicillin, an antibiotic. We later devastatingly realized that Amoxicillin has little effect in my body at fighting the infection. As a result, the Strep morphed into the evil monster, Rheumatic Fever. Once in full swing, this fever can cause severe heart damage or even failure. My Great Aunt had Rheumatic Fever as a child and by age 30 had died due to heart failure. My parents never claimed this fate for me and believed that the Lord had something completely different in store for my little life. It was hard to believe it on days I could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom. 

After a long 9 months, I began to regain strength. I can’t pinpoint a day that I finally got out of bed. But I do remember one morning, as I grabbed a spoon from the kitchen drawer, I fought to hold back the tears as I squawked at my mom, “Why didn’t you tell me we got a new silverware organizer??” She looked at me with loving patience and then hugged me as I tearfully mumbled that nothing was the same anymore.

I did get better as each year progressed and I began to do a lot of normal things again. The start of high school was wonderfully ordinary. Not wanting to be a Debbie-downer, I didn’t tell most people about my struggling physical condition. My sophomore year, I made a friend who helped me feel hopeful of a healthy future. One day, as we were running laps side by side in P.E. and I was struggling to keep up with the class, I explained what my body had been through in the last few years. I remember how he looked over at me with genuine empathy as I shared my story. I told him I hoped that one day I could be healthy enough to have babies. He told me he hoped so too, probably blushing as he searched for something to say next. He was really sincere for a 15-year-old boy. We soon became good friends. Five years later, he asked me to marry him.

My junior year wasn’t as normal. I got very sick with the flu and other infections that my body wasn’t able to fight like it should have. From chest pains, racing heart, severe digestive issues and muscle pain, I felt like giving up.  I had little energy to leave the house for fun stuff like a date or shopping, so you can imagine how much I struggled getting to school. 

My parents feared there was a possibility my heart had been damaged so we returned to the cardiologist for some tests. Knowing that the majority of people who have Rheumatic Fever walk away with heart valve damage, I was so scared. And then the day came for us to find out. Looking up at the live black and white feed of my heart, lots of questions bounced around my mind. Would I die from heart damage like my Great Aunt? Would my heart ever be strong enough to deliver children? Why isn’t life easier?

The doctor left the room to evaluate what he had seen that day. My mom and I just stared at each other, holding one another’s clammy hand.

When he came back it was hard to decipher his prognosis through broken English and a lack of social skills. All I could make out was, “No damage.”  My mom and I blinked, waiting for more. But upon realizing the weight of what he had just spoken, we began to laugh, unable to contain our joy. To behold the Lord’s handiwork is more beautiful than I have words to describe. Overcome with joy, my heart began to swell (figuratively), resulting in a strong desire to hug this big, awkward man. Needless to say, my mom saw that I needed a hug and embraced me, laughing some more.

I was relieved that God had held my heart throughout those long months, preventing all damage. But I still had so many questions and wondered if I would ever understand why all of this had happened.

  

To be continued!