The eighth of April, twenty-20

(I began writing this piece on 12/16/20)

The thing about infertility is that you learn how to side most often with disappointment.

I was 7 days late on my period and my breasts were swollen and tender. For others, that might sound like a blinking neon sign: “Hello! You’re pregnant!” But those same people weren’t there when just a year ago, when I was 4 days late on my period - the longest I’d ever been late, I was convinced we were FINALLY pregnant. THIS WAS IT! Only, it wasn’t it and I wasn’t pregnant. The next day I started my period and spent the following 4 days in bed, nursing a heart riddled with sadness, disappointment and anguish. So 7 days late wasn’t an absolute for me. It was a ‘there’s a million reasons why I could be late, don’t get your hopes up’ - for me.

We had this plan, J and I. He knew I was late and for him - he was SURE I was pregnant. If it weren’t for him in this journey… I don’t know how I would have made it through with a healthy heart. He never doubted God. He questioned His timing. He questioned His methods. But he never doubted that GOD would deliver on His promises. To have faith like that in a 4-year long journey of disappointment, it’s a rare and beautiful thing. It taught me a great deal about persistence and what children of faith really should look like when they’re ‘squeezed’. The plan was simple: toss a coin. If the coin landed on heads, we’d take a pregnancy test that evening. If it landed on tails, we’d take it the next morning if my period didn’t start that evening. We bought a test from our local Freddie’s and when we got home, we tossed the coin - it landed on tails. Looking back, I wouldn’t have wanted to change that moment. It felt like “us” - embracing such a childish method to decide such an important decision. We had to make sooo many adult decisions throughout our infertility journey. This moment felt free - it felt like we had permission to approach something so important and so big with juvenile hearts. It felt ‘right’ for us.

The next morning was supposed to happen accordingly: J’s alarm would wake us up bright and early - I would pee on a stick - we’d wait the torturous 2 minutes together and then we’d read the stick and handle whatever came our way, together. How it actually happened was: Bree woke up, unbeknownst to her - 10 minutes before his alarm was scheduled to go off, and had to pee. She peed, figuring because it was so dark that she’d have hours to sleep more and then pee again when she woke up. Laying back down in bed, she heard the alarm go off 10 minutes later and realized - ‘oh crap… I just ruined our plan.”

Plan B became humorous. Being unable to pee on the test now because I had just peed, we formulated a new plan: J would go to work as normal and I would drink as much water, as quickly as I could! Lol It was an interesting feeling what I was feeling - uncertainty and potential, all in the same moment. Uncertainty as to what the test would say; uncertainty as to what THIS disappointment would feel like; uncertainty of having to do it alone. But potential, lingered - who knows what could happen.

Every Wednesday morning at that time, I had staff meetings for work. The Covid shut down had just freshly happened so we were holding staff meeting over zoom that day. I took a shower and got ready for the day, drinking glasses of water throughout my routine. Finally around 9:30am I felt it! I felt my bladder jingle it’s little internal bell: “ring, ring… time to empty this thing.”

I set my timer on my iPhone for 2 minutes and I walked away from the stick. I walked into our bedroom and I remember praying out loud: “God… no matter what that stick says… we’ve been here before and you’ll help me through it. You are SO faithful. You know how to hold my heart and how to restore it. I trust you. I put this in your hands. Protect Jonathan’s heart. Hold it in your hands when I deliver the news.”

The iPhone timer rang out.

My heart began beating furiously.

My stomach began churning.

“I don’t know how to handle this disappointment,” I thought to myself.

I took a deep breathe, I walked over to the sink and right before I could see the stick…. I closed my eyes LOL I reached out and began feeling around the sink with my hand for the stick. I just needed another moment “before the blow to my heart.” I felt the stick and with eyes still closed, I lifted it up into the air and held it in front of me. I breathed in and out, heart racing so fast. I froze, momentarily. “Why did I do this alone?,” I thought to myself.

I took another deep breathe…. and I opened my eyes.

Wait…. What?!!!

Two solid blue lines stood proudly at attention in the window of the pregnancy test.

I was pregnant! I was actually pregnant. A deep and very loud sob exploded from my lips. I began wailing with joyful cries of shock, overwhelm, utter amazement, deep proclamation… it was a swirl of a million emotions, all dancing together in a performance of beautiful movement. I still remember the words that burst from my lips in that moment, amidst the cries: “You remembered me!” I just kept repeating it: “You remembered me… you remembered me. You are soooo good. You remembered me.” It was such a sweet, liberating few moments with The Lord. I honestly felt Him holding me and crying in celebration with me.

I took a photo of the stick and texted my husband: “Congratulations! You’re a Daddy!” He called me and I was nearly incoherent behind sobs of joy. “Congratulations baby. You’re a Mommy,” were the first words he spoke to me. Those few moments on the phone together… they couldn’t beat being in person together but nothing could make those moments spent together any less special. We were pregnant… we were FINALLY pregnant. We didn’t know ahead of time what this moment would feel like if we were to ever experience it - but we explored all the feelings and reactions and words together over the phone that morning, together.

Telling our parents was so surreal. They had prayed in faith for so long with us that to give them the gift of this news was so special to us. To hear their tears and reactions… I’ll never I hear those. It was extra special being just 2 days shy of my Dad’s birthday that year :)

It was 28 minutes… 28 minutes from the time I saw the two lines until I had to jump on my staff meeting call. That 28 minutes were beautiful, precious, special, intimate moments with my husband and God. Looking back, I wonder what it would have felt like to celebrate those moments together, in person, had I not peed before he went to work? Would we have cried together? Would we have shouted? What would his face look like as he saw the stick? As he saw my face? What would his first words be?

But this is what we had and what we had was a promise fulfilled. Absolutely nothing could take away the beauty of that moment.

And nothing could take away the beauty of the moments to come with my work team as I shared the news with them. We always started our meetings off with sharing testimonies of what God had done in the previous week: testimonies in our own lives; testimonies of what He was doing in our Departments, etc. When my time came up to share, I jumped in: “I have a testimony!”

These people… these friends… who have also been my family for the past 3 years… they had cried with us. They had held us when we cried. They had lifted our heads when they hung low. They had encouraged us when we needed to be reminded of God’s promises over our life and they had sat with us in our pain and despair when we went another year without seeing His promises come forward. They had suffered with us. This moment with them… I will never, ever, ever forget. It wasn’t just a promise fulfilled for Jonathan and I. This was a promise fulfilled for all of THEM, too. This was THEIR answered prayers, too.

I held the pregnancy test up to the eye of my computer and I waited. For 4 beautiful seconds of time, everyone leaned in and squinted their eyes. “What… is… that?”, their faces said.

And then….

I still cry remembering that moment: an eruption of emotions! They began shouting; began crying; began yelling in excitement! Spouses began yelling for their wives and husbands: “YOU HAVE TO GET IN HERE! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!” When I replay those moments in my head, I still remember all the different boxes of faces and reactions and I LOVE that I have that memory - seeing all of the different reactions play out right in front of me. Perhaps the most rewarding moment of that entire experience was when the pure shock of the moment climaxed and we all began weeping together - crying for joy, together. Every single face in every single box, wiping tears from their eyes, blowing noses in their tissues and holding their heads in their hands. We had all suffered together… and now we were all celebrating together.

The rest of the day would be spent calling our closest friends and family to tell them the news. Jonathan came home after I shared the news with him to spend the day with me. We thought of a playful idea to tell our friends we had “made something” and “wanted their opinion on what they thought of it.” Then we’d show them the photo of the tests or we’d hold the test up to the FaceTime call. Weeping over and over and over again with our friends and family - FEELING the deepest feels of this moment with each person, freshly, with each person. Perhaps one of the funniest and memorable moments was calling my friend Madeline. She was driving and sharply swerved her car in reaction to seeing the positive test. She had to abruptly pull over on the side of the freeway because she couldn’t see through her tears to continue driving. I loved that reaction.

We announced the news on social media and re-celebrated for a third time with more friends and family.

I don’t know how to describe that day other then… the supernatural and natural collided that day. The years spent declaring things in faith… knowing Heaven’s heart for us… believing that healing and miracles (the supernatural) were true… trusting that God was who He said He was, even when we weren’t seeing it all play out in the natural… we saw both worlds collide that day. Heaven came to Earth and showed itself in the form of two solid blue lines on a pregnancy test and in the faces of every person we told we were pregnant.