One Day at a Time

One moment at a time...

I always dreamed of the way we'd finally find out we were pregnant.  The joy of telling Harlan the news.  The creative way we'd tell our family and friends.   Awaiting lab results that day, I never thought this is what I'd hear on the phone:  "You're pregnant, but we're very concerned."  Harlan was at work, and I had planned on using this day to spend time alone in prayer, asking God for direction and peace while traveling this road called Infertility.  Instead, I was reduced to a crying mess, unsure of how this could be happening, just 4 days before Christmas.

The next week was filled with more lab tests, ultrasounds, and somehow Christmas happened in there, too.  It is a total blur, as if Christmas came and went without me this year.  On the 27th, we finally got the news:  My pregnancy was ectopic.

We prayed fervently against an ectopic pregnancy.  We prayed for a miracle to occur.  Little Elam decided to take up residency in my fallopian tube instead of my uterus, which is extremely dangerous and sometimes fatal if left untreated.   Thankfully, we caught it before I would have to have surgery, but that day we said goodbye to our little one.  A good friend reminded me that we have much to be thankful for.  Little Elam never had to experience the grief or sorrow this world can bring.  He/she is now resting safely in the arms of Jesus.

I thought about ending the blog.  Too hard to write this stuff down.  However, someone else out there might be going through this very thing right now.  I hope that by sharing, someone else may feel a little less alone.  I heard this song last night and was immediately reduced to a crying mess again (Sorry for the cheesy YouTube video, but I wanted you to see the words).

Running to Jesus is all I can do right now.   At this point, it's more like crawling for me.  I know He's there in the midst of it, whether I can feel it or not.  As my precious friend Kristine says, "Thank you, Lord, that faith is not a feeling."

So, we welcome in 2011.  Each day, I feel a bit more hope begin to poke its way through the ashes...

"You did it: you changed wild lament
      into whirling dance;
   You ripped off my black mourning band
      and decked me with wildflowers.
   I'm about to burst with song;
      I can't keep quiet about you.
   God, my God,
      I can't thank you enough."

Psalm 30:11 was shared with me by so many friends and family members that I thought I'd share it with you (I like The Message version).   I look forward to exchanging my weeping for laughing and mourning for dancing.  One day at a time...