Scary

We had a little scare recently.  No it wasn't the super dehydrated toddler suffering from a 6-day bout of stomach flu, though that was indeed quite scary.  This was a scare of a different kind.

See, I have this summer nicely planned out.  On the docket is going to Seven Peaks as often as possible and riding the slides, going to Lake Powell and actually being able to tube and wake board, and going with my husband, childless, to Denver, Colorado to become a certified Bradley birth educator.  These are things I have been seriously looking forward to.  Then once summer settles down, I plan on running my first marathon in St. George, Utah (yikes!).

This little scare would have changed my plans quite a bit.

Lately, I've been feeling pretty tired, kind of emotional, and crampy (TMI? sorry). And I am not entirely sure where Aunt Flow has gone off to, but she was expected five days ago (Oh, TMI again? Whoops). So yesterday, I was feeling a little nervous.

We have always been directed pretty specifically when our plans for childbearing needed to be tweaked.  They have both times, by the way.  We planned on getting pregnant with our first when I was finishing up grad school (haven't made it there yet...).  Instead, we felt very strongly that we needed to try for a baby when getting pregnant meant a baby would be born right before the very last semester of my undergrad (that is exactly what happened.  Because of class availability, it ended up taking me an entire year longer to graduate). With our second, we planned on waiting another 6 months or so before trying, but once again, felt very strongly that we needed to get to it right then. So we did.  I graduated 5 months pregnant with #2. There are only 19 1/2 months between Lily and Rowan.  That wasn't our plan, but it was God's.

I told Heavenly Father after being a sissified tweety bird over getting pregnant with Lily that I would never question Him again when he asked us to have a baby.  With Rowan, it was earlier than we wanted, but we didn't question. We just moved forward with faith.

I have never wanted the circumstances around getting pregnant to be "oops", "oh crap!", or "please no". Because being pregnant is amazing and miraculous and beautiful and something I truly find immense joy in.  But yesterday I found myself thinking Oh crap. I am not ready to be pregnant again. I really want more time between these two babies.  I really want to love on Rowan a little more before I have to share that with another one. I really want to live out my summer NOT pregnant this year.  I really want to run that marathon.  I really want a getaway with my husband COMPLETELY childless.  I really want to have my body back for just a little while longer.  

And the thoughts went on and on...and on.

Darin and I had discussed previously, in theory, should we somehow get pregnant without planning on it, how it would not be the worst thing in the world, and how we've made it with two and we can make it with three, and how we wouldn't freak out.  But I was kind of freaking out.  I knew it was all for selfish reasons, too.  I felt kind of bad about that.  Kind of.

This morning I drove to Target, went down the personal items aisle, looked at the condoms, looked at the pregnancy tests, shook my head and grabbed a box of two "easy read" tests (Do they even come in singles anymore?  Do they figure everyone doubts the first test?).

I came home and took the test. I felt the tension in my shoulders leave as I saw only one line filling the little bubble on that pee-soaked stick.

I wasn't pregnant.

The rest of the morning, I felt a little lighter. I went about getting a few things done.  When I put the kids down for their naps, I took a few minutes to browse ye old facebook.  I came across the status of a friend, one I am not super close to, but facebook has kept us connected.  She was updating her friends about her and her husband's attempts  to conceive through IVF. She told of how many of the embryos did not make it to the stage of being able to be implanted. Through a lot of money and heartache and hoping and praying and  crying and solitude and maybe even begging, they had three shots, just three chances.  They had one embryo placed.  And it worked.  They were ecstatic, I am sure. Friends and family rallied around them and rejoiced with them.  After a few weeks, their doctors became worried.  She was placed on bed rest. Not long after, they lost the baby.  She told of this experience after having had some time to grieve, but she ended by saying that they knew that God had a plan for them.  They knew that they would be parents and that they would not lose hope. They had faith in His plan.

I wanted to be able to wake board this summer.

Funny how things can be put into perspective.  Funny how that often involves being supremely humbled.

I told Heavenly Father that I would never question Him again when He asked us to have another baby, but I purposefully left Him out of all my thoughts about why I didn't want one now.

If all it takes for me to have faith in His plan for my family is to enjoy making unprotected love to my husband, you'd think I could handle it.  You think I could actually live up to what I promised him after getting pregnant with #1.

My goodness, life is a huge blessing. Creating life is a huge blessing.

Today, I am thankful for His patience with me. I am thankful for His sobering reminders of His merciful plan. Today, I am thankful to be reminded to pray more often:

help thou mine unbelief.