“Hey Mrs. Wessner, we got your numbers here and where they should double every 48-72 hours, yours actually dropped a little bit.” Hm. I thought this might happen. Not because it ever has, but because I know it can. I am resolved to follow Jesus Christ with no question, so I bravely ask, “So, what should I do?” She responds that I will be “fit-in” first thing in the morning to be sure that this sweet blessing is “viable.” I told Mike that I was afraid of that and he nods…unmoved. Getting to this point did not come easily for either of us. I have known that someone has been missing, and Mike was slower to believe me. We suffered (rather I suffered) 3 years of self-inflicted infertility. This summer God changed Mike’s heart, and now we were headed to the Dr. for the fourth time to check on our newest treasure.
I had the e-mail written in my head. “Dear Friends, blah blah blah…we were early and we miscarried. God has been faithful and we are sad, but not without hope. We love you….” I just need to be prepared for the worst. So, this morning I awoke early (although I stayed in bed) and finally got moving and took the dog out for our (mostly regular) walk. As I walked up the street in the quiet of the new day I just whispered, “Lord, I just want to know that Your hand is in this.” He very sweetly whispered to me in the solitude of our time, “Ali, My hand is in everything.” “Yes, Sir, thank you. I love that about you!” With great peace I got breakfast ready and got myself ready for the appointment that no mother, with children or not, wants to attend. I just wanted to send a substitute to bear the brunt of the news. Mike left for work so that he could get the morning off to come with me.
Mike got back, Mom arrived, and we headed out the door. A little bit of Andrew Peterson kept me focused and mindful that if I never hold another Wessner baby warm and cozy, God has done incredible things in my family, in my heart and in the heart of my husband. He will be praised no matter what. Of that I am determined. We signed in and had been sitting for less than 5 minutes when I was ushered to the back. I have seen the sonographer many times before, always with great joy. I went ahead and told her that we know that there may not be great news so she didn’t need to pretend. She has apparently endured heartbreak herself and commented about timing and us never being in control…all good things. The impersonal ultrasound began and within a few seconds she says, with confidence, “There’s a little peanut right there with a heartbeat. Look at it flashing.” What! I wasn’t prepared for that. I was shocked, Mike was not. I was thrilled….we were both thrilled. A heartbeat, I even heard it. That never gets old. This is the fourth time a person has taken up residence in my womb and it doesn’t grow old to me. Each time is a treat. Each time a wonder and miracle. This one seems more so than other times. A heartbeat.
“So, the numbers and the random spotting…does a heartbeat trump everything?”
“Yes, a heartbeat trumps everything.”
Indeed it does. I was thinking about this as I was munching in the kitchen trying to decide what I wanted to eat and thought of the Greatest Heartbeat. The steady rising and setting of the sun beating out the Father’s great love in steady rhythms. No matter what is going on, a heartbeat trumps everything. I look around, the seasons finally changing, the trees raising their sparse limbs to their Creator, and one teeny tiny heartbeat trumping all doubt.
Thank you, Jesus for Your heartbeat that trumps anything.