Telling Your Story

I really have no idea where to begin.

When I shared my last post, I had no real expectations of who would read it. It was long and very personal and well, just not my typical post. Throughout that first night I watched the number of times it had been viewed skyrocket, growing by the hundreds every time I seemed to check. Now I'll just let you in on a little secret of mine, people read my blog, but not THAT many people. I saw people begin to share my story with others. I began receiving friend requests and messages from people I've never met who wanted to encourage me in our journey as well as thank me for telling the story. I had NO idea the degree to which people would respond to our story and I am overwhelmed that God has used it to this degree.

Recently our pastor gave us homework. He asked us to write down our spiritual journey, based off of specific questions they gave, so that we could always remember our stories. It was also meant to prepare us to tell our story to others when God gave us the opportunity. Now they focused more on who we were before salvation and after, but I knew that this was God's confirmation to me that stories are meant to be told, particularly the story of our soon-to-come baby girl.

When I was a teenager, I had someone tell me once that while there might be times in my life that I want to "erase the tape," that God doesn't want to do that, He wants to use it. I knew from the moment they told us our baby might not survive that this was going to be one of those times.

It would have been easier and less painful to forget the past the second we knew that God had given us our miracle, to not have to relive the nights where I wondered for her life and mine, the tears that were shed and the death sentence spoken over our child. But that's not what God wanted.

There was a scripture that I just couldn't shake during this challenging time...

"And they overcame him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony..." - Revelation 12:11

This scripture ran through my head constantly, then one day I was trying to tell a friend where it was found and upon looking it up I found the rest of the verse (and it gave me chills),

"And they overcame him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony, and they did not love their life even when faced with death."

Every trial we face isn't always life or death, but for me, that was the reality as it is with many others out there. A lot of people out there are facing death and fighting it more imminently than I could even imagine. But for me the choice of life and death were very real and they were being placed in my hands. I was being told that I would have to choose to end her life to save my own.

But the point of this post is not about my story, but yours and the scripture states that we overcome the enemy by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony. A part of our life as Christians and one of the ways we can continue to find victory is by telling our stories.

One of the biggest things I learned over the past couple of weeks is that I'm not responsible for what people do with what I tell them. I am only responsible to be obedient to do what God asks me to do when He asks me to do it.

"I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow."

-I Corinthians 3:6

We each have our own part to play, whether planting or watering, but only God can take the fruits of our labor and use them to change lives- that is not and will never be our responsibility- we cannot change people. Our job is to be obedient to share what He places on our heart, sometimes it comes naturally and other times it is painful or uncomfortable, and that's normal. But we all have a story to tell. Sometimes a story is deep and dark and painful and sometimes a story is full of God's grace and covering. My pastor always said when I was young that people often told him they didn't have a "testimony" or a story because they really hadn't been through anything, and he would remind them that that can be the best testimony of all. That is a story of God's protection and love. But regardless- We ALL have stories to tell.

We come in contact with people everyday who need to hear our stories. Some of you love to write, like I do, and can articulate feelings and emotions through words and perhaps that is what He is asking you to do. I would hazard to guess that most of time that is not what God is asking us to do. Instead He will stop us in the middle of our hectic day and ask us to pay attention to those we come in contact with on a daily basis. He will tell us to share our heart, our story with those we least expect. It's just a matter of slowing down long enough to hear His voice and obey. He has given us our stories for a reason. They are a part of who we are, a part of who He is making us to be.

You have seen God's provision. You have walked through pain. You have been healed of sickness. Your lost loved ones have come to a personal relationship with Christ. You have been fired from a job you loved. You have seen people walk out of your life that you never fathomed would leave. You've held the hand of a family member as they walk into the eternal presence of God. You've lost a child. You've overcome addiction. You have a story.

And while we are so much more than any specific story in our life, every single story has its place in forming who we are. Don't dismiss the importance of your stories. God's intention is to use them to help bring others closer to Him.

Share your stories. They matter.

When Faced With An Impossible Choice...

You're overcome with joy. Each month you wait and hope and this month you got the answer you wanted- you're pregnant.

I had a feeling I was pregnant a few days before. In fact, I even had a friend I hadn't heard from in years text me just days prior and tell me she had a dream I was pregnant with twins! (Whoa there! Let's slow that train down!) This month just seemed different and it was. I waited to test a day or two later than I wanted because that meant I could tell Jeff on his birthday. When the test came back positive, I ran to the store to figure out how I wanted to tell him- a baby gift, a scavenger hunt? No, it was going to be a bit more simple than that. I didn't go all Pinterest on this occasion. To my surprise and joy, it turns out they sell expectant father cards. So instead of buying him a regular birthday card, that's what I got. I gave him his other presents first and told him before he opened the card that I could never outdo this gift, so not to expect anything like this from here on out : ) He opened the card and he was shocked. It took him a minute of looking at it for it to even sink in.

We had set our first appointment date for around 7-8 weeks pregnant, and then changed it at the last minute. We were headed out of town to spend a week with his family as well as seeing my parents and two of my best friends all on the same trip, so we wanted to get confirmation before we left. Our normal doctor didn't have any available appointments, so we saw the office PA. She confirmed that we were, in fact, pregnant. We both looked at each other with joy and relief. It was real.

Then she said the one word no one wants to hear..... BUT .....

Our joy soon turned to uncertainty as she told us that while we were extremely early on in the pregnancy, the baby did not appear to be in the right place to survive. And that's how she left it. She told us to keep our hopes up and that perhaps because the baby was so small that she just wasn't getting an accurate reading, but we both knew that's not what she really thought. She then told us that we needed to schedule an appointment to see our doctor as soon as we came back in town. I wasn't sure how much different things would be in 10 days, but that let us know the degree to which she was concerned. Then we were sent on our way to somehow enjoy our 2,000 miles roundtrip trek across the country with this invisible weight on our backs. She went into no details about what this would mean for us or the baby, we would just have to wait until we returned.

We decided to go ahead and tell our family while we were on our trip because I didn't want to have to pretend for a week that I wasn't exhausted or nauseous, but also because we wanted them to be able to share in our joy and believe with us in prayer for a healthy baby. It was humorous to me the differences in the response of each family. Both were very excited for us, but Jeff's family was all together in one small area (almost 40 of us) and the cheers and applause were almost deafening. I didn't even know Jeff had announced it until everyone started yelling and looking straight at me. I'm pretty sure I looked like a deer in the headlights. Where as we had told my parents the night before and they both sat there in stunned silence and said, "Really???" 

Our long journey home ended on a Sunday afternoon and we made our way to the doctor's office the next morning. Ten days had seemed like an eternity. We had done our best to remain hopeful and optimistic as we explained what little we knew to the family and friends we had told, but at that point we knew so little anyway it was easy to gloss over the issue. 

Our doctor came in the room to do a second ultrasound in less than two weeks and Jeff and I just held our breath...

He came to the same conclusion as the PA did the week before. They both tried to convince us that perhaps they are seeing it wrong or that because the baby was still so small that their reading could be off. But they do this all day everyday and they know where this baby should be and Jeff and I both knew they didn't believe what they were telling us.  He gave us a definitive name to what this kind of pregnancy was called and said in his decade of practicing OB he's seen it maybe twice. 

Seriously, that's just like me, to have the one thing that nobody's heard of. I asked a number of friends and family in the medical field and none of them had ever heard of such a case, let me tell you, that is VERY comforting. : (

The doctor then went on to tell us what our options and possible outcomes would be- none of them good. In fact, when discussing the matter with my family, I wouldn't even talk with them about what he said. 

As we watched this tiny heart beating on the screen fast and loud, he told us that if the diagnosis proved true our best option would be to "remove" the baby.

"Remove" the baby. Those words echoed in my head for the next two weeks. He told me that if we waited too long, because of the placement of the baby, it would eventually "explode" filling my stomach with blood and the likelihood at that point was one of two things: I would have a hysterectomy or I could die of complications. 

So the choices that were given were- 

1. "Remove" the baby   

2. Wait too long and have a hysterectomy (at 28 years old)

3. Or risk dying in the process

People have to make these choices everyday, but you never think it's going to be you.

I asked the doctor if the baby could move, if it wasn't in the right spot already if it could get there? His response, "No, sadly that's not how it works. The baby is where it is." He then asked us if we had any questions to which I could only say, "I think I need time to process this."

As I have mentioned on this blog many times before, I am simply not typically an emotional person. But here I am leaving this doctors appointment, Jeff and I silently walking to our own cars not knowing what to say to each other, and I am trying to cope with all that has just been placed on me. I had to go pick up the girls, but was in no place to drive straight there. I found myself in the drive thru line at Starbucks trying to hold myself together long enough to pay for my drink and then the tears started to flow. 

Inwardly I know that tears are often simply a release, but somewhere in my mind I have misconstrued them to be a lack of faith and trust in God. That somehow if I allow them to come, that I am allowing doubt and fear to take over. I made it to pick up the girls and I was a mess. I wiped down my face and tried to get myself together long enough to go in and get the girls out, but that didn't happen. The first question anyone asked and I completely broke down. The tears came back and I was trying to process what had just happened on my poor niece and sister-in-law who listened very intently, even when I'm absolutely sure nothing I said made sense. My girls were looking at me in a way I've never seen because they don't see Mama cry. And with as little sense as I made, talking to them about it really was cathartic.

Jeff came home that evening from work and we both sat together on the couch while the girls played outside. After a few moments of silence, I told him what I had asked God for. I told him that my prayer was- first and foremost for a healthy baby that is perfectly placed, but I told God that if it was not His Will for this baby to live on this Earth that He needed to be the one to make that decision and not us. I told Him that was not a call I could ever make. Jeff and my conversation was short, but on that point we both agreed- we couldn't chose to end this life.

So we chose option #4- Pray and trust God.

My prayer stayed the same over the next two weeks, however, the realist side of me knew that while I was trusting God whole-heartedly, that I needed to have processed through every possible scenario just in case. I really had to fight myself on this point. Part of me said that if I worked through each scenario that I wasn't truly believing God for complete healing and a healthy baby, but then another part of me knows that sometimes God uses situations like these to build our trust and faith in Him even if they don't turn out the way we expected.

I really did walk through those two weeks with a greater faith than I imagined I could, but my faith wasn't grounded in the fact that God was healing this baby for a long life on this Earth, although that is what I was believing He would do. My faith was grounded in that God was using this situation and this child to further His kingdom, no matter what the outcome was on this side of eternity. But just because there was faith doesn't mean there weren't more tears. Being pregnant has made me constantly exhausted, but I quickly realized that some things were more important than sleep. There were late nights that consisted of journaling, scriptures, lots of praying, worship music and plenty of tears.

It was in those times that I realized that if this baby lived, it was not mine. If God chose to allow this baby life on this earth it was because He has a special calling, a special place, and a very distinct purpose for their life. I had to lay this baby down on His altar, like Abraham did with Isaac and Hannah did with Samuel, this baby is not my own. Yes, every baby is ultimately God's, but I knew from our first appointment that the doctors did not believe we would ever meet this child and that made things very different for me.

Those 14 days went by slower than I ever could have imagined. They were agonizing. We had stopped telling anyone new that we were expecting because what do you say at that point, "Hey we're having a baby that we don't know if we'll ever meet!" Not only is it awkward, but people just don't know how to respond. Not to mention that I really didn't want to have to tell everyone of these people, if in two weeks the doctor gave us bad news, that we wouldn't be having a baby. So as much as we wanted to be excited about this new life, it honestly wasn't an exciting time.

The friends and family that did know had been praying for us consistently for the past few weeks. I knew that we were as covered in prayer as we could be and the rest was completely up to God.

The day had finally come and we sat in the waiting room holding our breath and praying. Our doctor came into the room, took one look at the baby on the ultrasound and said, 

"I don't know what to tell you, but the baby moved. It's perfect and in the perfect place!"

I could feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes, in fact they are welling up again even as I write this. The relief I felt in the moment surpassed anything I could have imagined. And the doctor's final words from the previous appointment rang in my head, "No, the baby can't move. It is where it is." 

Our God did a miracle and now I have my own miracle that I will get to look at every day as a reminder, a reminder that I don't serve a God who is distant or uninvolved. I serve a God who still performs miracle.

So my words to any of you out there who are believing for a miracle-

Keep believing. Never give up. Stay strong.

After doing everything you can do, just stand.

And when you are too weak to stand, 

surround yourself with people who will hold up your arms 

like Aaron and Hur did for Moses. 

God is with you in the battle- you are never alone. 

Our God is still a god of miracles.

*****************

UPDATE ONE YEAR LATER

For us, this is the result of choosing - Option #4.

Our "Little G" is now six months old. She is perfect. She is the happiest baby I have ever met.

God has already placed so many things in my heart about what this beautiful baby girl will do for His kingdom. God moved her and here she is today, and she will move mountains. 

TWO YEARS LATER

Two years have passed since the doctors told us we'd never meet this little one and she is almost 18 months old. It's hard to imagine our lives without her. She rules the roost around here. She is full of spunk, grit and determination. She will not be ignored or outdone and I know she will use her voice to bring His Word to the nations.

Once, Twice, Three Times A ...

LADY.

(The color of the balloon had no bearing on what was inside, we just needed a color dark enough that you couldn't see through it!)

Jeff and I are excited to announce that baby #3 will be arriving in February and we can't wait to meet HER! There will soon be three little ladies living under one roof and Jeff is quickly becoming outnumbered! We couldn't be more thrilled for her arrival.

This is as close to a family picture as we came all day, but I'll take what I can get!

We can't wait to see what God has in store for this little one because she is our miracle baby.