A Matter of Time
/I hated having a big family as a kid. I was third in line out of six, and the only girl. I remember being embarrassed when we’d pull up to social functions and we’d all come piling out of the rusty Plymouth caravan like a bunch of clowns in a VW Bug.
Family vacations consisted of camping instead of Disney World (don't get me wrong, I'll be doing the same thing with my kids...) and eating out meant McDonald's value menu ( I still do that).
And not just that, but because there were so many of us (and we lived in tax-happy NY state) my parents couldn’t afford to buy all 6 of us the stylish and expensive Adidas brand shorts everyone else wore to middle school gym class.
So what do you do when you're in those awkward teen years and you care more than ever about how much you fit in? Obviously you cut and sew white stripes of fabric to your Kmart brand parachute shorts. I'm embarrassed just by the memory of how bad they came out.
Clearly all the frustrations in my life at that time could be attributed to being in a big family.
But as I got older (and less bratty I guess) I began to appreciate all the unique relationships I had with each of my brothers and slowly began to enjoy being part of a “big family.”
By the time I reached college I had come full circle and decided that I wanted a big family myself. Our holidays were so much fun when we were all together and I really wanted that dynamic for my future family as well.
Fortunately for me, Thad loved kids and wanted a bunch of his own as well. The “plan” was to wait a couple years after we got married to get our quality time in (cause face it… that’s the only time it happens, ha!) then get pregnant and start our big family. Just like that.
Psych.
Apparently that’s not how it happens for everyone. After two years of being married and enjoying all sorts of solo adventures we started trying for a baby and month after month the pregnancy tests showed up negative.
We practically had to create a pregnancy test budget with the amount of those tests I bought. I would convince myself it was “just too early” and the test wasn't reading right, or it was a malfunctioning one so I’d take three more while Thad shook his head in the other room and would mutter something about wasting another $10.
After about two and a half years of trying to no avail, we both went to specialists to get tested and were both told that we were perfectly fine and that it was “just a matter of time.”
“Time.” Well, that time was wasting! I wanted my big family and in order for that to happen, we needed babies…fast!
One night in October of 2013 I casually took my weekly pregnancy test and just about fell over when two lines showed up! Thad was working a short job up in North Carolina at the time and I’ll never forget the joy on that boy’s face when I told him over FaceTime that he was going to be a daddy. I think we both cried.
THE facetime call :)
We had finally started our family.
The timing was perfect. We were just about to make a huge move to Texas which meant I could have one OBGYN for the entire pregnancy, and not have to move in the middle of it all (that’s a big deal for us)!
We praised God for His perfect timing that we couldn’t have planned any better.
15 weeks later I miscarried.
It was a traumatic experience lined with grief, confusion and some scary moments.
Needless to say, we were devastated. Confused as to why God would seemingly retract His timing that had looked so right to us, yet still trying to recognize His Sovereignty in it all.
Friends all around me were getting pregnant and having beautiful healthy babies. I remember specifically praying that I wouldn’t have a heart of jealousy and bitterness toward them and the Lord was gracious to me and truly answered my prayer during that trying time.
When I recovered we went back to the miserable “trying” stage again, and to our great surprise and shock found out we were pregnant with Ellia only 3 months later.
Being pregnant again didn’t make the miscarriage all better. There were still times of sadness when I wondered about what life would have been like if that first pregnancy had gone full term.
It’s not like being pregnant with one baby replaces a lost one, I guess it just helped us move on in a different fashion, with a new realization of the frailty of life and an understanding that pregnancy doesn’t always ensure a baby as the end result.
Despite the mixed emotions, there was a new hope inside my belly (who had gotten really good at kicking me in my ribs).
Nine months later we met our beautiful Ellia Lane, delivered at the hospital we had planned on, by the doctor I had seen the whole pregnancy.
Our criteria for it being “good timing" had still panned out, despite our questioning God’s reasons.
Jump forward 12 months and I started my weekly trips to the store with Ellia in tow for pregnancy tests. Four months and who knows how many negative pregnancy tests later I began getting anxious again.
I was already counting the months between Ellia and her future sibling’s ages and not happy about how the age difference kept growing. I wanted her to have a brother or sister close to her age so they would be close friends (close friends means less fighting, right?)
Heck, I wanted them to be close just so we could get moving on our big family that seemed to be shrinking already!
One morning I sat down and re-evaluated my attitude. I realized I was feeling jealous of all my friends who were already months into their second and third pregnancies and I hated that I felt that way. You’d think I would have learned from the first time around but NOPE.
Seven weeks ago Thad held a pregnancy test in his hand and covered the screen with his hand saying, “you always get to see the results first, I get to watch it this time!” Unable to hide his excitement he held up the test to show me the word “pregnant” that read on the little screen.
We celebrated with our family and told a few close friends our exciting news. I happily put away all the pregnancy tests, pads and tampons cause I wasn’t going to be needing them again for a while, woohoo!
Then two weeks later I started bleeding. Terrible memories came flooding back and I slowly grasped the concept that I would be meeting two babies in heaven now.
Baby #3's little grave marked with a flower
After countless sonograms and blood tests I landed in the hospital and it was determined that there was a good chance the pregnancy was ectopic. I was treated with a shot of radiation and told afterwards that we weren’t allowed to get pregnant for 5-6 months following the treatment for risk of complications with pregnancy.
Six more months of waiting to even start trying again! It literally felt like a punch in the stomach.
I spent the next couple days huddled over the toilet throwing up and thinking about how different things would be if I was throwing up because of morning sickness instead of radiation.
I’m telling you all of this now because I know how easy it is for us to get carried away in writing our own timeline for our lives. And it’s hard when our timelines and God’s timelines don't match up.
But in those trying times we can have peace in knowing that there’s a bigger reason behind God’s timing that we may not see. He transcends time itself, and time answers to Him as it’s Creator! Who better to leave that with?
God's timing will always, always be better than our own.
Looking over at Ellia while she climbs up and down her highchair, I can’t help but smile because I can’t imagine our life without her.
Because ultimately, if we hadn’t had that first miscarriage I wouldn’t have her here with me today.
And that was part of God’s beautiful timeline that I couldn’t see.
"I am God, and there is no one like Me,
declaring the end from the beginning,
and from ancient times things which have not been done,
saying, ‘My purpose will be established,
and I will accomplish all My good pleasure."
Isaiah 46:9-10