Why Must We Wait?

each year, our church publishes an Advent book, with Bible readings throughout the season and a daily meditation written by various parishioners. i contributed the following entry, and thought that christmas eve was the perfect time to post it here. from the mann family, we wish you peace, love, and happiness. Merry Christmas!

August 2003

My doctor turns on the ultrasound monitor. My heart pounds. Could this, at long last, be it? Will we have a viable pregnancy after all this time?

With every passing second of silence, I know my chances are diminishing. He moves the probe some more, searching for what they call that “fetal flicker”. He remains quiet. My eyes dart, frantically, around the room. I can’t stare at that screen any longer, with its green void glaring at me. I can’t bear to catch my husband’s eyes, as the tears well up in mine. I can’t look at the walls, covered with posters of the various stages of pregnancy, reminding me of what we cannot achieve. So my gaze rests upward. I know the pattern of the ceiling tiles by heart now.

“I’m so sorry,” my doctor says, as he shuts off the monitor and turns to face me, as he has so many times before. “There’s no heartbeat.” This is our fourth miscarriage. This is the fourth time that we had seen that glorious plus sign show up on the test … the fourth time we had begun discussing baby names … the fourth time I had started plans for our nursery. And now, this is the fourth time we face the devastating news that it is not to be.

My doctor is discussing our next steps, as stronger measures are necessary. I hear terms like follicle stimulation. Progesterone level checks. IUI, HCG, IVF – the letters swirl in the air around me. I hope that Chris is paying attention, because I can barely breathe.

In the solitude of my car on the drive home, I ask God aloud what His purpose is in all of this. Is it a lesson in humility, after a lifetime of things coming rather easily for me? Is it a reminder that I love being in control too much, and that there are some things that only He can control? Is it God telling us that despite having a rock-solid marriage, we're not quite ready for parenthood? Are we destined not to be parents at all?

Why, God? Why must I wait? What is the purpose of waiting for a child?

August 2004

Our son, Liam, is born. I am blessed with an extremely short labor – four hours, start to finish, without an epidural. After spending so much of my recent life being poked and prodded and tested and injected with fertility drugs, I had prayed throughout my pregnancy that God would give me the strength to achieve a natural childbirth. I wanted to be fully present in all that was happening; I wanted to feel every moment of this life-changing experience. God answered that prayer.

The nurse places our baby in my arms, and I am absolutely mesmerized. I cannot possibly put into words the love that I feel at this moment. He’s wailing, he’s red-faced and slimy, his eyes are squinched up, he has no hair – obviously, he’s absolutely beautiful. And, praise be to God, he is ours.

Staring down at his sweet face in my hospital bed, it suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks. This is why God wanted me to wait. All those years of heartbreak and devastating loss now make sense. I was put on this earth to be a mother to Liam, this precious baby born in the wee hours of August 14, 2004. Had my path been easier, Liam would not exist; I would have another child, but I would not have him. I think of Psalm 139:16 : “In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed." I know with certainty that before my life had even begun, God had a plan for me. And this particular little boy, our Liam, is part of His all-knowing plan. God is so wise.

October 2005

I stare at the same ceiling tiles as I did two years ago, bracing myself for the same experience all over again. Why should it be any different? We had been told that we would never have a sustainable pregnancy without medical intervention. We had accepted the fact that it would never happen for us naturally. So, after a plus sign turned up on a home pregnancy test completely out of the blue, I don’t allow myself to get my hopes up. I resolve that I will keep my composure even through the disappointment that is to come. I am ready for the news this time.

My doctor turns on the monitor and positions the probe. But this time, there is no uncomfortable silence. Instead, I hear, “You’re not going to believe this ... I hardly believe it myself.” Excitedly, he points to that same monitor that has failed us so many times before. “Check out that strong heartbeat, Sara! You’re ten weeks pregnant!”

No doctor is able to explain how this has happened. Given my history and diagnosis, there’s no way I actually have a baby growing inside me. Yet somehow, I do. Our perfectly healthy daughter Susanna is born seven months later.

* * *

As I write this, I look across the room to my two children, their little blond heads touching as they play together. I smile. For now I know that my family is living proof of the most important lesson that God taught me through all those years of waiting:

God does, indeed, perform miracles.