when you know...

I always thought that when I found out I was pregnant with my first child, I would tell my husband in this fabulously elaborate way. Maybe with fireworks or a billboard or something. Maybe with a scavenger hunt that would ultimately lead to a baby rattle. Or something like that. And it would be so sweet and memorable that he wouldn't be able to stop sharing the story with friends and family for years to come.

Unfortunately, both of us are far too impulsive for such nonsense. We have a hard time keeping good news to ourselves. We want to shout it from the rooftops. We give each other Christmas gifts in November. When we got engaged, Pierce wanted to propose on the beach, at sunrise, with our friends around us. But it rained. So we went back inside to lie down and watch television. And he rolled over and asked me right then and there. 

When we have joy, we want to share it with each other immediately. 

And a baby is certainly a cause for joy.

Last Monday, I went to lunch with an old friend of mine from college. We ate at this amazing Greek restaurant and I stuffed myself silly. After we went our separate ways, I decided to get some work done at Barnes & Noble. But before long I was hungry again. No, wait. Make that ravenous. I felt like I hadn't eaten in days, so I went and had myself a huge plate of nachos. 

I thought to myself, "I know I love food, but damn!"

Back in January, I skipped my period and I thought I was pregnant then. But I didn't feel pregnant. I took two tests and they were both negative. And since I was going through so much anxiety and depression, I assumed my cycle was just out of whack  After all, it hadn't exactly been regular since I got off birth control back in August. So I brushed it off. 

On Monday when I was eating myself silly, I realized that the cramps I'd been having might be an indication of something totally different. And when Pierce and I went grocery shopping that night, I grabbed a home pregnancy test. He didn't even notice and, to be honest, I didn't want him to because he always teases me about how much money I've wasted on those things. And I have. So I just thought, "I'll take it when I get home and get this out of the way. There's no way I'm pregnant."

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not stupid. I knew there could absolutely be a way I was pregnant. After all, it had been six months since I'd stopped using birth control. It's just that we had been kind of ready for it back then. And God hadn't asked it of us. So I couldn't imagine that He would ask it of us in the middle of one of the most challenging seasonsof our marriage. Surely not.

I should have known better. I should have thought about Moses and Peter and Noah and Daniel. I should have thought about Jesus. God never waits until we're ready. If He did, nothing would ever get done. But His timing is never wrong, even if it feels like the most inconvenient, frustrating, and downright frightening thing in the world (and it does, if I'm telling the truth).

When we got home that night, I hurried off to the bathroom while Pierce was unloading groceries. And I still thought to myself, "I'm going to be so annoyed that I spent seven dollars on these tests when I see just one blue line."

And then I looked down.

I had about twenty different thoughts running through my mind when I saw those two little lines, one of them so faint it was almost invisible. I thought about how to tell Pierce. I thought about what my friends would say. I thought about how I wasn't ready to be a mother. I thought about how amazing it was to know that God trusted me with this incredible responsibility. I realized how glad I was that Pierce and I had taken the risk to trust in Him. I wondered if the anti-anxiety medication I was on was harmful. 

I guess you could say I hyperventilated a little bit. 

Mostly, I came to the conclusion that, try as I might, there was no way I could walk out of that bathroom and pretend I hadn't just seen what I had. There was no way in hell.

So Pierce, my sweet wonderful husband, had to find out that his wife was pregnant by having the test thrust into his hands (after I demanded that he close his eyes, of course...oh, and the cap was on the test, too, by the way...). When he opened his eyes and realized what he was seeing, he said, "Oh my God! Yes!" And then I started crying.

Isn't that always my first reaction?

Now, let me tell you the one thing I did not feel was regret. Or sadness. But it was definitely the most emotionally wrenching experience of my life. I couldn't get over it. It was incredibly surreal. 

It still is.

I look down every now and then and think, "I can't believe you're in there." And then sometimes I look up at the sky and say, "Really, God?!"

This isn't the time I would have chosen for myself to get pregnant. And it's natural for anyone who reads such a thing to say, "Well, why didn't you use protection?" And my response to that is this: It's not what I would have chosen. But I'm not God. And I trust in Him more than I trust in myself.

The decision to get off birth control was - as you probably know if you've been the reading the blog since then - a long and arduous one. It was one we made after months of prayer. After months of talking and tears and rationalizing why we should and why we shouldn't. 

But in the end, we knew it was right. In the end, we knew it was about being obedient.

In the end, we knew it was about living what we believed.

So August passed. September passed. Then October and November. And then December. I thought to myself a number of times, "Well maybe this whole thing wasn't actually about having a baby. Maybe this was just God's way of seeing if we would trust Him." And I sort of settled into that. I got comfortable in the knowledge that I hadn't gotten pregnant yet and I assumed that I knew God's plan. 

I assumed all of this without an ounce of prayer. Without having spent any time with God. Without actually seeking Him out and asking Him if it was true.

It hasn't been an easy thing so far, being pregnant. It's an experience wrought with so many emotions, particularly when you feel a little like God pulled the rug out from underneath you. I wonder why six whole months went by without a baby and then February rolls around and here we are (Oh, and I was right by the way; I wasn't pregnant in January). 

But despite everything I feel, I trust it. I trust Him. 

How can I not? I've believed my whole life that God knows what I need better than I do. And I've tried to live it that way. It's why Pierce and I chose to stop using protection in the first place. We were tired of trying to play God, of trying to make such a monumental choice based only on our own knowledge. We knew that we could prolong it inevitably. But at what cost? His Word is clear that the rewards are much greater than the risks when we choose to let Him take control of things, especially the things we want to hold onto most. 

So I'm trying to grapple with this truth. I still want to fight against it, even though I celebrate the life that's growing inside of me. I still want to fight against it, even when my husband lays his hand across my stomach at night at prays. I still want to fight against it, even when I imagine our son or daughter calling me "Mama." 

But I know, on the day we finally meet our little one, it will all be worth it. 

It's already worth it. 

What I find most incredible about God's timing is that He chose me when He could have easily agreed with all the bullshit I had tumbling around in my head at the time. But He created me, just as He created the little one in my womb, and He knows me better than I know myself. When I am depressed, He is my hiding place. When I fear being alone, He stands beside me. When I think I am wholly inadequate, He gives me something precious. 

He trusts me. 

When I felt most unable to do anything worthwhile, He said, "Here is the most worthwhile thing you'll ever do." 

How blessed I am. How blessed we are.

{Week Five: Our little Nunnery bean is about the size of a sesame seed.}