I’ve always said that I wanted kids, but much like the approach I took to wedding planning, it’s something I’ve been mostly relaxed about. For a while now, I have tried to avoid statements that begin with, “When I have kids…,” but have instead attempted to speak in the hypothetical: “If I have kids one day…” or “If we’re able to have kids…”
Because, honestly, who am I to presume that all of my reproductive organs are working properly? Or that God might use not giving me a child to teach me trust or push me toward adoption or foster care? It will happen when God wants it to happen, if it happens at all-that was my mantra.
Carlos and I decided to start “trying” (most awkward phrase in the English language if you ask me) to have a baby at the beginning of the summer with the goal of me getting pregnant this fall or early next year. It could take months or years, or it could never happen, we reminded ourselves. I believed this so much that I even bought a flight to India to see my sister this coming December.
Fast forward to late August. My period is a few days late and I’ve felt nauseaus and lethargic for 3 straight days. I couldn’t possibly be pregnant, I thought. It’s too soon. However, mostly wanting to rule it out as an option and figure out why I felt so bad, I ventured to the pharmacy for a pregnancy test.
Back at home, I took the test. Two lines appeared almost instantaneously. Pregnant.
Still not willing to believe it, I bought a second test later that day. Two lines again. Carlos made an appointment for me to get a more accurate blood test done the next morning. We would really let ourselves believe it if the blood test came back positive.
The next afternoon, I checked my e-mail to see if the results had been posted from the test that morning. They had. I was pregnant. 5 weeks pregnant. Meaning, our baby had been conceived barely a month after we decided to start “trying” (please, someone invent a new, non-explicit way to say this).
I had thought my approach to pregnancy had meant I was willing to accept whatever God chose to give (or not give) us. I was surprised, then, when my initial thoughts after finding out I was pregnant were along the lines of “It’s too soon” and “This was supposed to take months-are we really ready for it?” and “I will figure out a way to still make it to India!”
A very wise Yiddish proverb says “Man plans and God laughs.” Yes, the joke was on us.
Though I doubted God’s timing at first, and then wondered if I was already a bad mom because I doubted, I am choosing to trust God. Is it all happening faster than we planned and am I scared out of my wits? Yes, but I am profoundly grateful for this baby. He (I default to masculine; we still don’t know the gender) was wanted, prayed for, and will be born into a home to two parents who love each other and who are committed to giving him the best life we can. Two parents who might still have a lot of marital issues to work out when he’s born, but it’s going to be okay.
It’s funny because after thinking for so long, “If I can have kids…,” it means I still have a hard time believing I’m pregnant, even with a noticeable stomach bulge and maternity jeans on as I write this. But every time I think about the sonogram where I saw his heartbeat and the most recent one where even his fingers and toes were visible, I’m reminded of the life inside of me. No trip to India or anywhere else could equal the joy that that gives me, and I don’t regret that “time for just Carlos and I” will be ending forever in roughly 6 months. God has proven Himself trustworthy to me since before I was born, and likewise, He is already sustaining our baby:
Upon you I have leaned from before my birth; you are he who took me from my mother’s womb. My praise is continually of you. -Psalm 71:6, ESV