Accepting God's promise

I'm back, finally! After a long hiatus during which I have been nurturing myself the little life inside me. That's right, after five years and countless "when are you having a baby" questions. It's time! This wonderful little bundle of joy as a result of prayer is due March 19, 2014.

Some days I'm over the moon about the prospect of having a baby. But mostly I SCARED to death about it. Not about the birthing process or raising this little bundle. The control freak inside is constantly worried about what is going on inside me right now. The development of a baby is astounding and I have been reading and absorbing everything I can get my hands on, sometimes to my own demise. And all I can say, what an AMAZING journey this has been and will continue to be.
To completely understand let me tell you a story…

After confirming via HPT I decided to go to the doctor. Went to the doctor on Monday everything was fine, she wanted to run some blood tests on Friday, no big deal. So it had started, I was excited, nervous, but excited. In my mind I had decided not to tell anyone until 12 weeks which is usually when the initial scare of complications dwindle. So now it was just our secret. But by Wednesday I was having some issues, so off the doctor's I go in EXTREME panic. A couple things to note, I work in NJ and live in NY, my doctor is also in NY, so my 50 min commute only added to my panic. Everything that could go wrong went through my head. Also my doctor was not in the office, so I had to see her partner. After the exam the doctor tells me there's a possibility this might be an ectopic pregnancy (basically a MC), and I'll have to come in on Monday to be sure. I calmly accept this news, and go home. Once in the comfort of my home, I begin to cry profusely at the idea of this happening. I spend the next three days trying to grasp the reality of what is potentially about to happen.

I spend Sabbath home, crying, panicking, and repeating. I hoped for an online church experience that would lift my spirits. As the day progressed, so did my anxiety; until it hit me, why should I have to wait for someone else to help me approach the throne of grace? And so I started praying, every hour on the hour. Praying for the health of my child, certain ailments that still had not left my body, for our future as a family, I took my concerns and laid them at the alter. Monday arrived and before I could even get out the door, the tears started to flow. Trusting in God to make the right decision for your live is the only way to live, but it is also the HARDEST way to live. A quick prayer and we were off to learn our fate.

Side note: I must give a shout out to my Husband. If there is one defining moment throughout this experience I remember the most it's his very real advice. While he scoffed at my plan not to tell anyone until 12 weeks (cause he said I wouldn't be able to hold it in that long). And with everything going on I was even more pressed to not tell anyone what was going on. He explained that I needed support either way and that not telling anyone (if the worst happened) would not make not have happened. So simple yet so profound...Hiding would only makes things worst....wise man, that's part of why I married him and might keep him around. ;)

My heart was jumping out of my chest when I walked in the doctor's office. It was a whirlwind of events. She confirmed that there was indeed something there, and even noted its tiny little flicker of a heartbeat. If you never been astounded by God's grace and mercy...I’m here to testify. God had worked a miracle on our behalf, and I couldn't even find the words to thank Him. What makes this even more amazing is that I had read forums that say you could see a heartbeat at six weeks, but for most people it was rare. I prayed that God would do that for me as a promise. And He did it. Simply ASTOUNDED, and humbled by God goodness to me.

That should have been enough for me to shout it from the mountain top. God said it, and so it going to happen. But I still approached the situation very cautiously. Telling only our parents, and two close friends, and swearing them to secrecy until 12 weeks. "Oh ye of little faith..." I know in an earlier post I talked about giving God more than a mustard seed, but the sad truth is sometimes that's all I have to give. The truth is I fall short spiritually and I know I have to get better to receive what God truly has in store for me. So for weeks I was extremely cautious and still quite paranoid. Reminding myself constantly that God's got this and it's in His hands. Yet here I am relying on ultrasounds, sonograms, and heartbeat monitors to give me peace about the baby. When God has already confirmed and stamped it with His promise!

Fast forward to today, 18 weeks, and I'm still paranoid *hangs head*. I get panicked when I feel a twinge, I get paranoid when I feel great, and it literally NEVER ends. :-\ God is watching out for this baby, obviously. It's me with the problem, I can admit that. But today I am vowing to do better. This faith journey I am on, I'm not alone. I have some amazing people who are praying for me. And God has been there every step of the way. My goal is to really let Him be the captain of this vessel, and with the extra precious cargo I'm carrying I wouldn't mind that one bit.
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