The Beginning of Processing It All

Tired. All the time tired. 

Nauseous. A little of the time nauseous. 

Pregnant? 

Test.

How do you read this thing?? 

Yes. 2 lines = pregnant, even in Indonesian. 

We arranged for an appointment with our lovely midwife, Fiona. This is the second time Fiona has seen a photo of my pregnancy tests to confirm. Kate and I went to the clinic, and Fiona used the ultrasound machine and we saw an image of an itty-bitty baby. 

Over the course of a month I would go back and we would try to get a measurement of the baby for a more accurate due date. Fiona found a heartbeat that was strong and fluttering beautifully to a beat that only my baby's Maker knew. August is your due date. Each measurement showed little growth. Where I thought the baby should measure further along, the baby's measurement was actually smaller.

Our family began to plan and dream of a life of 4. Dreading the midnight cries but longing for midnight snuggles. Dreading the pains of labor, but anticipating that first look of love and imagining the proud Daddy face when he sees his baby and watching Baby Kate become Big Sister Kate. We began to plan our trip back home, dreaming big of the route we would take. We told our family, enjoying the reactions and sharing in joy that life was given to our family. 

Tired. Yes, but not all the time.

Nauseous. No. It stopped on Sunday. 

Yes!! I'm clearly out of that stage!! 

I shared this news with Fiona in the clinic while Kate played with the borrowed toys available. We used the ultrasound machine, the same machine that finds babies in the village and shows mommas who had only felt the movement, but now are seeing life for the first time inside their bellies, to measure. Baby measured around 8 weeks, again not matching Momma's mental measurement. We used the [same] machine to find the [same] fluttering heartbeat. This time the [same] machine found no flutter. The beat that only my baby's Maker knew was gone. 

Impossible. 

Still full of hope. 

A possible mistake? 

Several scans confirmed the same answer. No heartbeat. No life. Just a beautiful, tiny image on a screen of a face we will only imagine, until we meet our Maker who formed our baby's beat. We have hope that our baby is healthy and whole. My Jesus, who has held my hand while walking through uncertain paths and has sometime just held me up steady on my feet, is the same One who is carrying our Little One. He will protect and care for our baby. 

Seeking Hope. 

Full of Hope. 

"But I know whom I have believed, 

and am persuaded that he is able

to keep that which I've committed

unto him against that day"

Josh and I have committed many things to Him, but the most important and most precious are our babies.