Three years ago today. . .

Three years ago today I drove to the fertility clinic, for what felt like the millionth time, for yet another blood draw. Except this time was different. A blood pregnancy test. I remember feeling hopeful, yet also slightly guarded should God's answer to our prayer be "not right now."

I arrived at the clinic and the nurses asked me almost immediately "Well, did you take a home test??" To which I replied "No." We then went into a back and forth conversation as to them not believing me because "Everyone does a home test!! No one ever seriously waits until the blood test." 

Yet I explained to the best of my ability that I felt God nudging me to wait, to not take a home test, and that He was literally telling me "Just be patient. I got this," regardless of the actual test result. Those times you feel like you literally hear God speaking to you? This was one of them. So I waited. And September 8th was the day we would learn if our IVF was a success.

Blood was taken and after I drove to work. I had a morning meeting which seemed to drag on and my mind could barely focus on the topics at hand. And then at approximately 11:45am I got the call. The call I had been anticipating all morning since I watched the vile of blood be placed into a tray for testing.

Two nurses that had walked this journey with me were on speaker phone and were giddy with excitement. I immediately started to smile and then in simultaneous squeals. . .

"Brittnie!!! You're pregnant!!!" 

And then tears.

Tears of joy and thanksgiving and excitement and hope and happiness and praise to the God that made this all possible. Praise to the God that literally turned our "wailing into dancing" (Psalm 30:11) and replaced our sorrow with joy.

 . . .

That was three years ago today. The past three years have brought several ups and downs and twists and turns. A week after this exciting phone call we learned we were pregnant with twins. And a few weeks later, after seeing & hearing two heartbeats, we learned that one of those babies no longer had a beating heart. And a while after the birth of our oldest daughter we began to grow concerned about her development. And a while after said concerns, and an endless lists of tests and procedures, we finally got a diagnosis. 

And that is hard. Really hard.

But you know what?

We still sing Psalm 30:11. We still shed tears of joy and thanksgiving and excitement and hope and happiness and praise to the God that made this all possible. Because even though the days between these three years have been filled with hard, Psalm 30:11 remains true.

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy. 

So if you are in the midst of a wait, or a no, or a "not right now" season, there is hope. There is still a reason to sing. There is still the promise that pretty soon, if you hold on and sit with diligence and then listen with all you've got, there will be dancing.

Dancing. Dancing after the rain. Singing after the wailing.

And that is pretty amazing.