Today I heard for the first time the beating of my baby’s heart and in that moment he (or she) became real.
I think that until now there was a distance I’d maintained emotionally and mentally. I have a healthy four year old at home with me; she is tangible and of no small consequence. Further, I am still in the first trimester; only God knew if we would make it to that magical 13 week marker. I am sure somewhere in the recesses of my mind I’d decided not to get too attached to the idea of baby #2.
And so today, when confronted with the unmistakable whoosh, whooshing of the heart beat I couldn’t wait to tell the world – or at least my small portion of it. I thanked God for this gift of a heart beat; but I also thought of the friends I know who have gone in for a very similar appointment only to be met with very different results. I count my blessings and try to come up with a word to describe my circumstances; I find myself saying that I am fortunate. However, when I think of the word “fortune”, I know that “fortune” has nothing to do with it. I know friends who have tried for years to get pregnant and others who have experienced one miscarriage after another; I refuse to believe that their hurt and disappointment is tied to something as fickle as luck. I think of the brief 3 month window it took to get pregnant for Eva and 4 years later just another 3 months for baby #2. When I consider the years that some of my friends have devoted to trying to get pregnant, I am humbled by the grace God has shown me in this area.
Grace is the only word that makes sense to me; I know that this favor, these blessings, are undeserved. I believe however that my God is the sovereign God; God of heaven and earth. I believe that He has a purpose for each of our lives; that at times He is more concerned with our character than our happiness; and that sometimes the things we experience are less about us and more about something God is doing.http://www.youtube.com/embed/Mqd8MoiCbcI?autoplay=1