Hello! It’s been a minute since I last posted. There’s a reason for that. For those of you who don’t know me in person, I’ve been keeping a secret.
I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t find a way to share my news. The longer I waited to share, the more of a challenge it became. But, I’m ready now.
In January my family and I visited my parents’ for a long overdue sibling reunion. At the time of our visit, we were on month thirteen of praying, trying, and waiting for baby #3.
My husband had been diagnosed with male factor infertility, and I was a month away from having an appointment with my ob/gyn to start trying to see what, if any, other issues we were dealing with. A few days before we left for my parents’ I had a time of deep, fervent prayer.
I had been listening to Genesis, and had, for some reason, been reading in 1 Samuel. Over and over, I had heard about women whose wombs were opened and who had then conceived. I brought their stories before God. If He could do it for them, He could do it for me. I pleaded with Him to allow just one sperm to reach an egg—knowing that nothing is impossible for God.
As I prayed, a word popped into my mind: Jezreel. My first thought was, “Am I supposed to name a baby Jezreel?” I quickly decided that was not it, and grabbed my phone to find out just what the word meant. I cried as I read that it means “God will sow.” My husband’s main fertility issue was immotility. God sowing was exactly what we needed.
I was cautiously hopeful. I didn’t want to be disappointed, but I felt certain I had heard from God. But what if He hadn’t meant He’d sow that particular month?
While at my parents’, I had some spotting, and I knew we were about to begin month fourteen of waiting. I was very upset and very emotional. I spent time praying and journaling. I was ready to be done trying, done hoping, done being disappointed. In addition to being tired, I was also so confused.
While I was still pregnant with my daughter, I told my mom and my husband that if we had a third, I thought it would be a boy. At some point towards the end of my pregnancy, I’d had a vision. A split second picture in my mind of sitting with my feet on an ottoman, with my son facing me on my left, and my daughter facing me on my right. My daughter had light hair, and it was pulled back into a ponytail. On my lap, I held a tiny, dark haired baby boy, and he was dressed in warm weather clothing.
My husband and I both have dark hair, so having a blonde wasn’t even on my radar. Shortly after she was born, her dark hair fell out, and was replaced by blonde curls. My conviction that the picture had come from God grew. In the months that followed my daughter’s birth, that mental image had become a source of hope.
As I walked through the nightmare of postpartum anxiety and OCD with terrifying intrusive thoughts, that picture gave me hope that I had a future. Not only would my life not end because of my postpartum nightmare, but I would recover and have a third. I held on to that vision.
So when thirteen months went by without a baby on the way, I struggled to make sense. Was the vision from God? Was I supposed to keep waiting for it to be fulfilled? Could I, should I, surrender the vision and live outside of the hopeful expectation for its fulfillment? I could have been content with my two kids if not for the vision of a third.
After spending time crying and praying at my parents’ on what I was convinced was the eve of month fourteen, I talked with my husband who suggested I take a pregnancy test. So my sister and I went to Walmart late that night. I was too impatient to wait until morning to test, and I prepared myself for the possibility that if it was negative, it could be a false negative because I was testing at night.
I was stunned to see a positive.
Elijah Michael was born last week. His name is a declaration.
Elijah: My God is Yahweh.
Michael: Who is like God?
He is indeed tiny, the smallest of my babies. He has dark hair, and it is still hot outside.
I am overjoyed and overwhelmed. I now have absolutely no doubt that my vision was from God, and I’m still in awe that God showed him to me three years before he was born.
My God is Yahweh. Who is like God?
If you are walking through the valley of infertility, I would be honored to pray for you. Be encouraged and know that nothing is impossible for God.
Imperfect Pearl 