I asked God about my renewed hope. Was it because a baby was still in our future?
Yes, it was.
A first glimpse of the promise.
"What was the hold up?" I asked.
I learned I needed to do things right this time.
I needed Sean on the same page.
So, our anniversary weekend, on the very last day on the drive home, I asked the question I dreaded the answer to.
To my surprise Sean sincerely expressed a genuine desire to have children of his own finally!
To me, that was another promise from God. He changed Sean's heart. What other reason could he have for changing Sean's heart instead of mine?
Just over a month later, I was meeting with God in the mountain meadows I love to escape to in my mind. Just like every time, we sat amongst flowers, in brilliant sun shine and brilliant white clothes.
But this time was different.
I had a very pregnant belly showing underneath my beautiful white sundress.
And I did become pregnant, with expectation. :)
Another promise.
Just a few months later, I impatiently asked WHEN?!
I was promised January.
And I was given January.
His promise was true, that I can't deny.
But.
The doubts. Oh, the doubts.
What a weapon those doubts can be.
They started sometime before day 26.
How could they not?
Day 26 had only ever been reached once before.
It had been several years, but in my heart I had felt this all before, it was fresh and raw and the thoughts raced.
Not quite convinced I asked for a sure sign.
My 'go-to' sign of a promise, a rainbow.
Yes, in the middle of January in Winterpeg, I asked God for a rainbow because my doubts clouded my faith. I even laughed, 'now that's a challenge for you God! I guess you'll have to give me a sundog or something!'
I didn't get a rainbow.
And a few days later I had even more reason to doubt.
Then I doubted myself.
I must deserve this somehow.
I know in a past life (figure of speech, not literally) I had been in a relationship where I did not treasure life, I had once thought I was pregnant and rather than face the shame I toyed with the idea of ending the promise God was going to give another life. It never came down to that, but I seriously contemplated that this one thought, dwelling on that one temptation, was enough to earn me bareness.
I picked up an Infertility Devotional book that had been a gift a few years earlier.
I had managed 3 whole pages before setting it aside until now.
But now, something told me to look again.
In it's pages, God confronted my doubts head on, and my self-punishment too. He had taken my whole punishment already. I wasn't being punished. My doubts were human, especially a scarred human, who he made logical and always contemplating ALL outcomes.
My doubts did not become reality.
I am not that powerful.
So. Where did that leave me?
And then I realized, I was STILL in HIS hands!
He was still God.
Still in control.
He hadn't taken away his promise.
Yet, I couldn't hope.
I couldn't bare to listen for fear of what promises I may hear.
In a way that was my acknowledgement.
Yes, I believed there was still a promise for us.
But I couldn't grasp it.
Couldn't claim it.
I ran from it.
I told God.
I'm sorry, but I can't bare to hear you right now.
I told no one else.
After baring my soul about everything else.
After years of seeking God's presence.
After encountering God in such a personal way.
Who would run from that?
I would.
This was my secret.
So.
God decided to tell his own secret.
To my dear friend.
As she drove one day, about a week after our loss, she saw a sundog with a rainbow on one side.
She asked, "Lord, who is this promise for?"
"Lori" was the answer that came back.
As she praised and thanked him she heard,
"Look up again."
Now there was a rainbow on both sides of the sundog.
And she heard, double blessing.
And, once again, I had a promise.
Whether I wanted it or not.
But I did.
Want it.
The hope didn't immediately come back.
It was a slow float.
Rising on temporal gusts rather than steady wind.
March 2nd, the day after our 10th wedding anniversary.
5 weeks after our loss.
We renewed our vows.
Renewed our promise.
And in Sean's vows he said;
"I can see our unborn children in your eyes."
A double blessing.
Because with his promise, HIS promise grew strong again.
Hope grew strong again.
I have a promise.
