Ultrasound Anniversary

{Drafted on January 30, 2013}

One year ago today we witnessed an amazing miracle unfold in front of us on the ultrasound screen. Our lives have never been the same.

One year ago today I experienced one of the most powerful, special, and remarkable moments of my life.

Yes, it's hard to believe that a whole year has passed since that wondrous day we shocked our infertility specialist, defied all odds, and saw/heard Ellie's heartbeat on the ultrasound screen for the first time.

To think our specialist, a renowned professional in his field, had written the pregnancy off prior to that ultrasound on January 30th, 2012 and offered us medication to induce miscarriage. We were told it was VERY unlikely it was a viable pregnancy. Our odds going into that ultrasound were less than five percent. Less. Than. Five. Percent.

Not a day passes where I don't think about how delicate our situation was and how very, very lucky we are to now have sweet Ellie in our lives.

It still brings me to tears thinking about it. {I feel like I say this a lot these days.}

I don't think there will ever be any words to adequatly describe the beauty, gratitude and pure joy that was wrapped up into the moment we heard Ellie's heartbeat for the first time.

I meant to write out the details of this special event immediately after we witnessed it. But then life got busy, I was dealing with lots of pregnancy fatigue and morning sickness, and this item got pushed down very low on the list of to-dos.

So here I am one year later recaping the event. It's amazing how time has washed away some parts of the day, yet so sacredly preserved some of the most special elements.

Monday, January 30th. Our appointment was fairly early in the morning and I was so thankful it was because I don't think I could've maintained any form of composure or sanity if I had to wait all day for the ultrasound. Amazingly, I was able to sleep pretty well the night before. I woke up that morning and there were so many thoughts and emotions running through my head. I was excited, nervous, scared, and to be honest kind of dreading the appointment. I was so afraid that this would be the appointment that sealed a fate I so strongly feared: That they would tell us I was having a miscarriage. The thought of this, after all we had endured to get pregnant, seemed like too much to bear on my longing and already fragile heart. In the weeks leading up to this appointment, with all the unknowns and scares we faced, I cautiously allowed myself to claim that I was pregnant. Celebrating and daydreaming about this child were still out of the question but I could at least (finally) say the words, "I'm pregnant." I was afraid that after this appointment I would have to let that long-awaited dream go, that this deep desire on my heart would again be out of my reach.

Before the appointment Chad and I had discussed the various scenarios we knew we could be faced with at the ultrasound. We knew that if the results were still inconclusive--that if there was any shred of hope remaining--we would continue to wait things out. We reasearched and discussed what we thought the best plan of action would be should we be told I was miscarrying. Truthfully, my mind and heart had already braced myself for miscarriage; I was fully preparing myself for that dreaded news.

It was a very cold January morning. My husband and I didn't say much on the drive to the appointment. What can you really say at that time? I just silently prayed over and over and over. We arrived to the doctor's office a little early and my stomach was completely in knots. I was already on the verge of tears and doing my best to hold them back. We just sat there in the car for about ten minutes, still silent, staring at the office. I was afraid to go in. Before we got out of the car we prayed there together. Well, Chad prayed because I knew that if I started speaking out what was on my heart I would break down into tears and I was too embarrassed to head into the office like that. And so we prayed. Like we had done so many times, before so many scary appointments. I hoped and hoped that by some miracle this would finally be THE appointment we recieved good news. We prayed for a miracle. We prayed for God's will. We prayed that, no matter what the outcome of the ultrasound, our story would be used to glorify Him.

We checked in for our appointment and were greeted by the friendly staff at the clinic, just like we had done so many times. We went back to one of the exam rooms and I changed into the gown. And then we waited for what felt like an eternity. Our doctor was running behind so we had to wait about ten minutes in that little room, which I found to be unusually cruel. My stomach was still in knots. I felt like I was going to throw up from all the nerves. I was still holding back tears. And my heart was racing. Chad and I barely said a word to each other. I continued to pray in the silence.

Our doctor finally came into the room and my body started to shake. I don't remember exactly what Dr. H said to us as he was preparing to begin the ultrasound, but his tone and demeanor more or less read: Well, alright, here we go. I hate to do this, but it's time to confirm the miscarriage. At least that's how I read it.

As we prepared to start the exam I was literally afraid to look at the ultrasound screen. In our many, many ultrasounds at the clinic only a handful of them had been promising; the latest had been especially diffiuclt. Each and every time the image of my empty uterus had flashed up on the screen my heart broke just a little bit more. After numerous appointments of not seeing what we had hoped for on that screen, I was so afraid that this would be the worst news yet. Oh, please Lord, let us see SOMETHING, I thought to myself.

Chad was right by my side, my rock as always, the entire time I lay on that exam table. Our doctor began the exam, I took a deep breath and looked up at the ultrasound screen. My heart instantly skipped a beat and my breath froze. I thought my heart might burst out of my chest. I saw it instantly--the most wondrous sight ever--a little teeny tiny peanut with something inside flickering. Oh my...there's our baby...it's there. I can SEE the heartbeat. I thought to myself. Chad immediately squeezed my arm. We didn't say anything out loud yet but I knew we both knew what we were looking at: there was our baby and he/she had a heartbeat. Warm tears were already streaming down my face. Our doctor hit a button and we heard the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life: The rhythmic noise of our baby's heartbeat going strongly. Chad squeezed my arm even harder. I was still shaking. Tears continued to stream down my face.

I kept silently thanking God over and over and over.

I don't remember everything my doctor said. But I know without a doubt that he was completely surprised. I will never forget the tone of his words. As he proceeded to take several measurements he kept saying, "This is really quite amazing."

Lyrics from one of the songs we sang at church the morning before kept running through my head.

Our God is greater, our God is stronger
God You are higher than any other
Our God is Healer, awesome and power
Our God, Our God...

Never in my life had I felt God's presence so strongly. And never in my life had I ever been so sure of a strong and mighty, all-powerful God.

I knew in that moment that our battle was all completely worth it. I would've endured every tear, miserable side effect, and millisecond spent in hoping and longing for that baby in exchange for this moment.

Our doctor was still cautious. He refused to give us a firm gestational age or due date which made me very uneasy. He thought it would be best to continue closely monitoring things. At one point he told us we probably wouldn't want to tell anyone about the pregnancy just yet. Oh, if he only knew how many people had been praying for us. I kept quiet. {Looking back this would've of course been a perfect opportunity to share our faith, but I completely missed this window.}

He congratulated us, told us how excited he was for us and how glad he was we stuck with it. We set up a follow up ultrasound for the next week and he walked out of the room.

Still sitting on that exam table, I collapsed into Chad's arms and began crying even harder. And then it happened: For the first time since we embarked on the difficult, painful path of infertility my husband started crying. He just couldn't contain his emotions.  One glimpse of our baby's heartbeat and that strong man was a puddle of mush. "That was incredible," He said as he hugged me tighter and wiped away tears. I can still feel his arms wrapped around me and hear his voice shaking with awe and joy.

A year has passed and I still treasure this moment and hold it close to my heart. Out of great pain and struggle came a tremendous amount of bliss and beauty that I never could've imagined or manifested myself, had our path to pregnancy been what I originally envisioned. Our God is greater my friends.  He is so much greater.

Today as I'm reflecting on the events and twists and turns that lead us to Ellie's pregnancy I'm thankful for unanswered prayers. I don't fully know why we had to endure the hell-on-earth that was infertility. But I do know with absolute certainty that God was beside us on the entire journey--sustaining us, molding us, and strengthening us--and eventually gifting us with the exact child intended for us, Eliana.

May your faith always be bigger than your fears.