I waited patiently for the LORD; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. -Psalm 40:1
I called my doctor's office, yesterday, to schedule another ultrasound and appointment. The first available time slot for both was 8:30 Friday morning, but the nurse said: "If you feel like you can't wait, we'll work you in. If you want, you can come right now."
I'm a deeply impatient person but knew instantly, in my spirit, that my need to pray up and prepare for bad news outweighed my desire for good news. "Friday is fine," I told her. "I'll wait."
Sometime between Jim's climbing out of bed and Clementine's calling, this morning: "Come get me, Mom!" I felt it: the very first drop. The beginning of the end.
All I could think was: thank You, Father, for this moment and not in the middle of my singing "O Holy Night" from behind the pulpit on Christmas Eve. (I'd fretted about that.)
Thank You that I don't have to endure another ultrasound at the hands of someone who--for all her knowledge of human innards--understands nothing of the human spirit.
Thank You that I don't have to walk back into that doctor's office with hope in my heart only to walk back out with a lump in my throat.
Thank You for home and a husband who can work from home.
Thank You for answering, even if it's not in the way I wanted, most.
Thank You for no greater discomfort than the old, familiar monthly, "not pregnant" discomfort.
Thank You for no surgery.
Thank You for every person who's prayed for, cared for, and otherwise helped carry me through the past twenty days.
Thank You for, even now, working this situation to my good because I love You and have absolutely been called according to Your purpose.
Thank You for being behind me, with me, and ahead of me.
God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.
P.S. When I told Clementine that we aren't going to have a baby, that God decided we need to wait, she said, simply: "Okay."