My mind had raced all day. I just wanted to make it home. I promised myself that I wouldn’t take a test until I was at least a week late.
It was day six.
But one day really didn’t make that much of a difference and I couldn’t stand it any longer. Just what if I was finally carrying our baby? Just what if?
We were two years into what seemed like to us a very long, winter season of our soul. As I reached in the back of the cabinet that held a stock pile of pregnancy tests, I wondered if this was it. Was this the one? Would I take pictures of this stick? Would I leave it on the counter for him or scream at Brandon when he walked in the door? This one stick, could change our lives and take away my barren label forever.
But I also knew that this test could pierce to the deepest part of my heart. It would take days to feel “normal” again. This test could brand me, again. Barren. Empty. Broken.
As I waited the three minutes like I had done a thousand times before, my heart bounced back and forth from despair to excitement. I prayed as I waited, “God, help me to believe you are good if this test says no.”
One, very lonely, pink line.
I threw it away and hid it under the bottom of the trash. How foolish was I to think the test could possibly be positive? After all this time, I should’ve known better. Was He good? Really good? I knew in my head the “right” answer, but I couldn’t make my heart believe.
I remember nights in the floor pouring my wounded and very weary heart out before Him. There was actually a spot in our old house next to my side of the bed where the carpet was worn.
And He was right there. I could even feel at times His strong, scarred hands wrap around this girl’s, His little girl’s, broken body.
There were times I would scream. So angry at Him for making me walk this road. Ugly, so ugly, I know.
But He was there then too. He listened. And softly whispered back, “I will never stop loving you. You cannot push me away. I will always chase after you.”
I was silent too. Mostly because there weren’t words to describe my pain.
But He knew it, the pain. His Spirit groaned for me when I didn’t have the words.
It hurt, so bad, my ache for a child. The longing to be a mother was so great. After all, that was what He called me to. HE placed that desire in my heart when I was just a little girl. All I wanted to do was to grow up and be a mommy.
And then after another journey, our adoption journey, springtime came for our hearts. We brought Selah Grace home. And He wrote His faithfulness all over her sweet story. She brought such healing to my heart. Still does. She and her birthmom made me a mommy.
Although the ache to be a mother has been filled, my barren womb is just that, still barren.
For several months now, I have buried those empty feelings. I haven’t had the energy to go there with the Lord. It is hard work sorting through those feelings, and grieving the kicks from Selah I never felt. Even as I am typing, hot tears burn my face…I never saw her “stick.”
The Lord has ever so gently brought these feelings to the surface of my heart again. And this time, instead of fighting Him and pushing Him away, He has brought my heart to a place of acceptance.
I lean in close to Him, when my best friend tells me of her pregnancy. I nestle up close to His heart, when I ache that I never had the chance to carry the children living in my home. I run to His lap at the reminder of my barrenness at the end of every month.
And it hurts. Still. So bad.
But the nearness of Him. The intimacy that He and I now share over this barren womb of mine, is something I would never trade for a thousand “yes” sticks.
As I drove to school this morning, my sweet girl was babbling away in her car seat, “singing” to worship music. I thanked God for my barren womb. And was so confused praying about it. Of course I want healing from this disease that causes my womb to be empty. But do I want Him to heal me? Honestly, I don’t know. My head tells me yes, but my heart screams no. Because I find Him here. In the bitterness. In the broken, empty, barren parts of my soul. He is there.
So I prayed this morning, that God wouldn’t necessarily heal my body, but that He would heal that barren piece of my heart that tells me over and over again I am broken.
While He does that, I will nestle up to Him, breathe in His scent, and feel His heart beating for me.
And pray, for grace while I wait.