The world didn't end, but our world has been changed radically.
Today our baby is 10 weeks old.
Yes, our baby.
Go ahead, re-read it. I'll wait.
It's true.
Details, you say? Okay.
On October 19, I went to the doctor. I was having some weird problems that probably aren't worth discussing (on this blog, anyway,) and it was just time to get some things checked out. For the most part, things checked out normal... but there were a few things that weren't adding up. The doctors determined that without an ultrasound and 4 weeks of blood work, diagnosis would be impossible. I took a breath, acknowledged there was an issue, and left feeling optimistic.
On October 25, I went back to the doctor for an ultrasound. I was uncomfortable, nervous, and unprepared for what the ultrasound actually entailed. As techs usually are, she was excessively chatty while she continued to zoom in and out of a particular blob on the screen. She finished, said "okay, see ya later!" and started to walk out of the room. I said "Wait, was it normal?" She she paused, burrowed her eyebrows, and said "Ummmm, yeah, I guess." in a tone that said "No, but I can't talk about it." My heart started racing and the nurses tried to give me the same kind of responses. I finally threatened to set up camp in the lobby before she sighed and said "It's too difficult to tell just based on an ultrasound, but it looks like Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome." After a lot of questions, I left. I was upset, couldn't get a hold of myself, and only saw my dreams of a tiny baby Gaines fluttering out the window. My doctor called later in the afternoon, told me not to despair, because if it was PCOS, it was in the earliest of stages, and very treatable. He recommending losing a pretty substantial amount of weight, cutting all of the carbs out of my diet, and set up an appointment to re-evaluate in December. I took a deep breath, prepared for a long, tiresome journey, and cried in my husband's chest for at least three hours.
On October 28, I sang at church. I was disconnected for the majority of the rehearsal, and sang the words without really believing some of them. I don't want to say that I was angry at the Lord, and I don't want to say that I felt abandoned... but I was broken. I was so down-trodden, and felt like the exception to his favor. We made it through practice and prepared for a different kind of service. This one, perfect, Sunday was completely a part of every detail so incredibly orchestrated into my life story. This Sunday was really supposed to be a Sunday of lifting our congregation up during a time of worship, where we all admitted our brokenness, doubts, and fears before the Lord. In perfect honesty, I disconnected a little bit, because I knew that getting too lost in the moment would only result in a tear-filled day, and I had done enough of that. So, we prayed. And I uttered a silent prayer that the Lord would remain sovereign in my life. And then we sang a song called "Never Once." And it's a song that I've sung hundreds of times. And I've always loved it, but on this perfect Sunday, this song was redemption:
Standing on this mountaintop
Looking just how far we’ve come Knowing that for every step You were with us
Kneeling on this battle ground
Seeing just how much You’ve done
Knowing every victory
Was Your power in us
Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say Yes, our hearts can say
Never once did we ever walk alone Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Never once did we ever walk alone Carried by Your constant grace
Held within Your perfect peace
Never once, no, we never walk alone
Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
You should be glad that you're on the other side of the screen, because otherwise you would be staring at me uncomfortably, because even now, tears are falling. It isn't the hormones. Anyway, we sang that song, and I made it about half-way through before I broke down. I don't think it was a dramatic thing, I really only remember stepping away from the Microphone and soaking in the perfect peace that consumed me. It was the first time in about six months that I felt everything I had been carrying lift off of my shoulders. I remember the tears falling slowly, and the only word I can think of to sum up that moment is surrender. I will cherish those few short minutes for the rest of my life, because it was literally a moment of being comforted by a Perfect Savior, as I stood before him with nothing left but a brokenness that I couldn't overcome. And then the song ended, and real life welcomed me back. And I knew that it was going to be okay.
On November 8, I woke up and felt weird. Not Good, Not bad, just...off. I was in super slow motion, couldn't wake up, felt the need to eat breakfast (which is usually a meal I skip,) and considered calling in sick so that I could fight whatever was attempting to invade my body. I had to be at work in less than twenty minutes, and ten of those minutes should have been designated to driving. I turned the water on in the shower, and turned on my iPod. Guess which song was the first song to play out of two thousand, six hundred and sixty-seven songs? That's Right. Never Once. So, of course I thought back to that Sunday. And then it's like something clicked. So, I took a pregnancy test. Then I laughed, and threw it to the side, because I was still a week away from "safe testing." I took a shower, went about my business as usual, and then remembered the test. I ran to the bathroom and saw the faintest line in the world. I did three or four double takes, and then thought "oh, you're not supposed to trust these things after so long." So I took another one. And the same faint line popped up. Then I took three more. And they all had the same thing. By this time, I was twenty minutes late for work and hyperventilating. I left the tests on the counter and called my doctor. The nurses laughed, said to come in soon for bloodwork, and I would have a definitive answer. I turned Never Once back on, drove as calmly as I could, and got my bloodwork done. A few short (eternal) hours passed, and when I was at lunch with my mom, the phone rang. The nurse on the other line was screaming with joy, and said "CONGRATULATIONS, EVERYTHING LOOKS PERFECT!" I was obviously confused, and she went on to tell me that I tested as early as I possibly could have in order to get a positive result. I was three weeks along, and I needed to come back for confirmation bloodwork the following Monday.
I sat in the booth and cried tears of joy, and tears of thankfulness, and tears of a woman who realized that the Lord loved her more than anything. It's funny, I always envisioned a really adorable way to tell Cody that I was expecting, but all I could think of in that moment is that this man, who held me through the worst moments, was one-half of the greatest joy in my life. I couldn't wait to tell him, but I knew I couldn't tell him over the phone. I drove to a baby boutique, and bought a tiny frame that said "I Love My Dad." I put the picture of the pregnancy test in it, and left for Midland. It was the longest drive of my life. My timing was perfect, and I couldn't wait to give him the frame. I'll post the video later, because it was TOO funny, but he didn't believe it. And then I think he saw the joy on my face, and then he realized that this was happening. And he was overjoyed.
Every step, we are breathing in his grace.
Ever more, we'll be breathing out his praise.
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