Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Hesitant Hope.

Yesterday morning I was in the kitchen when I heard Paisley coming down the stairs.  Just about the time she got to the bottom I heard a crash... followed by sobs.  I turned to see that she'd dropped one of her favorite treasures, a sweet little princess snow globe given to her by her favorite friend.  I think she'd just found it since the move and was bringing it down to show me.  As she stood there sobbing I knelt down and began to wipe up the glittery water running all over the tile.  With each wipe she sobbed harder.  I kept telling her it was ok, it wasn't her fault, stuff like this happens...  As I began picking up the little shards of glass I saw the most gentle and kind picture of God picking up the little pieces of my brokeness.  Broken hope, my broken heart, my broken me.

I went over and sat with her on the couch and held her.  She was literally limp in my arms.  I gazed down at her sweet tears and again assured her it would be ok... I remembered what my friend Carrie said when Paisley opened that present containing the snow globe... She piped up over the chaos of the gift-opening at the birthday party and said, "Paisley, be careful with that, it's real glass and Finley's already broken hers!"  I reminded Paisley of that moment... That her friend had done the same and she was not alone in this sorrow.

Sunday morning at church I led a new song and the words came from John 16 so I was asked to read that and briefly say something to start the song.  As I read it the part that stood out to me was not the main part the song came from, but what Jesus said right before...
"In this world you WILL have tribulations, but take heart I have overcome the world."
He didn't say IF.  He said you WILL.  Once again I'm reminded as I have been so much in the past year that God is not surprised by our heartbreak.  He's not put off by my grief.  He's there to pick the pieces up and hold me.

A few weeks ago I laid on the table in the perinatologist office once again.  This time 16 weeks along.  The same office I sat in for hour upon hour two years ago as my world was changed forever.  I laid there and held my breath.  Literally.  I held my breath as the sonographer began to measure blood flow in the baby's brain.  It flashed in red and blue.  We watched as the sweet little one twisted and shifted around within.  I watched as they moved the image around in the dark caverns on the screen, slowly scanning the areas of the head over and over.  I'd seen it before.
But this time I wasn't naive.
And if we're being completely honest, this time I was much less hopeful.  I wanted to be.  EVERY thing in me wanted to be hopeful that there would be only good news...
that I was holding my snow globe completely intact and that it wouldn't fall and shatter into a million pieces again.  But my soul knows the true pain of this life.

When we found out we were pregnant this time we just kinda sat and stared at each other.  There was a weird almost reverent mix of joy & fear.  It wasn't like I wanted to run out and tell the world this time, even though there was so much joy in this news.  I'd finally gotten myself to the place of trusting that it was even possible.  Even though I'd been told by doctors it was possible to have a healthy baby over a year ago I hadn't convinced my heart of that quite yet.  And maybe I still haven't completely.
So, grateful for this new life within, but fearful of the road ahead we began the journey again... With hesitant hope.

There we sat waiting for the doctor to come in and give us the report.  Paisley played in the floor completely carefree and unaware of the tension in the room.  But Daniel and I sat silently.  The doctor came in a few minutes later.

The last time I saw her I was clinging to her chest crying as she'd just told me I would deliver immediately and that she didn't know if he'd be ok...

She sat in front of us explaining the blood flow they were measuring.  At the end I finally just blurted out, "Is there fluid in the brain?"  "No," she said, "Not at all."  I could breath again.  She went on to tell us that everything looked good at this point.  We would continue to come in for check-ups each month.

So we carry on with hope.  Maybe hesitant hope, but hope that I will hold onto my snow globe.  And in the end hold this sweet healthy baby.  But I do now know more than ever that trials will come, but take heart, God is faithful.
And unlike anything I could do for Paisley's treasure, He pieces the shattered parts back together and makes them complete and new.


3 comments:

Robin said...

I am continually amazed and moved by your strength. You don't even see it at times, but God has used your pain and brokenness to encourage and
strengthen those around you. I am excited about your "new hope". I know our father is too.

mellokitty81 said...

Beth, I know you and I haven't even seen each other in years but I feel as if I have gotten to know you more through your blog. You are an amazing woman. Your words are so beautiful, as beautiful as your soul. You are a great mother and so very strong. God will never give us more than we can handle and he knows you're a strong one. Keep your positive thoughts and prayers going, I know I will for you. Thank you for sharing the blessings and the tribulations of your life with me. You're an inspiration.

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