130 Days & Nights

Warning: This is a post about woman “stuff” (as my husband refers to it). Fair warning!

Well, all the signs were there.

Of all people, I should know the signs. Heaven knows, I’ve googled them hundreds of time.

My breasts were sore. I was nauseous. I had headaches and was constantly fatigued. My back and ankles were sore. I was tired all the time. And, (according to the pregnancy sites I’ve googled over the past four years) the biggest sign…I’d gone 130 days since my last period.

Could it finally be?

I spent the last couple of nights thinking about the possibility. Imagining names, picking out colors and themes, and thinking of how I’d tell my mom. But I still resisted taking the test. I knew in my mind that I would rather imagine I was pregnant than deal with the harsh reality that I might not be.

And, I mean, 130 days? How could I ask for a clearer sign?

Candice came over last night, and I told her about my dilemma. I’d been nursing my dream in secret, so it was like ripping off a band-aid off to tell someone.

“Take the test,” Candice told me. “Otherwise, you’re building up false hope, and you know how hard you are going to take it if it’s not positive.”

But, like me, she was excited with the possibility. It very well could be.

This morning I took the test. Waited the two minutes. And faced the dull reality of that one blue line. 130 days, no period, and no baby.

I felt raw inside. Candice was right. That false hope ripped out my insides and threw them in a heap across the floor. The blue line mocked me from the counter, and I felt like a fool for all my pie in the sky baby dreams.

In spite of the thick wall of not-pregnant immunity I’ve tried to build up, I spilled the whole thing to Mom this morning over the phone. (That’ll teach her to call me for computer assistance! :-))

Since Mom went through this exact same experience when she and Dad were trying for me for 11 years, she was a great comfort. We talked about how God opens and closes the womb; how His ways and timing are perfect, and how He made our bodies and knows them better than we ever could.

I felt better after talking to Mom. Better but still let down.

It’s so hard sometimes.

But faith is trusting in something I can’t see. And I can’t see a baby or God. But God is there. I know He loves me, so I have to trust He will take care of me in His perfect way. Giving what He desires for me in His perfect time.

And resting content in whatever, whenever that may be.

If you should feel so inclined, I’d appreciate a couple of your prayers, too.