Two Lines

Just two lines on a home pregnancy test, but they mean everything.
Yes, you're pregnant.
Yes, Landon may get a sibling.
Yes, the adventure begins again.
Yes, yes, yes.

Until it doesn't mean any of those things.
I told Bill I was pregnant and we sat in awe at the wonder that a new life was forming in my body.

And then I got a nagging feeling that the two lines on the test didn't look exactly how I had remembered from before.  I don't know how long it took us to use Google images to check our results against hundreds of  pictures delivered in .25 seconds.  I do know it took quite a bit longer for it to sink in that I was, in fact, not pregnant.

Unfortunately for us, we have used two different kinds of pregnancy tests.  Two lines meant pregnant on one, THREE lines would have meant pregnant on this one. (In a decluttering kick I had long since thrown out the box and instructions for my last little test)

I felt like I had just gotten off a very unsatisfying roller coaster ride: the nervous anticipation, followed by the ecstatic bliss, and then..nothing. Like the ride ended mid "wheee!" and we felt ridiculous for even being so happy.

The day hung heavy around us and we didn't feel like saying much or doing much.  We realized more keenly how much we want another baby. We felt a flare up of fear that maybe our baby-making days are done.  We felt a flare up of guilt that maybe we had never been grateful enough for how easily Landon had been conceived.  We felt a flare up of irrational thoughts that are probably too silly to mention here.  Irrational things just never make sense out of context.

But they were just flare-ups.  It's not like we really believed any of it.  Mostly, we were disappointed.

In the end, I had to remember that we had prayed about trying to have another baby.  We had put the fear aside (the fear that has only ever become a part of it since my miscarriage) and said we were putting the outcome in God's hands.  All of it: boy or girl, single or multiples, now or later.

I sat there realizing that even after our concerted, and supposedly well-timed efforts, the outcome is quite certainly: later.

Or maybe: Never.

I had to remind myself, we put the outcome in God's hands.  If that is more than lip service, then I have to be grateful for what he gives, and what he withholds. I can't write the script and then ask him to come in and produce my show.

THIS is my family.  Right now.  Bill, me and Landon.  I don't want to be sitting on the edge of contentment, waiting for it to be something else, something more.  I don't want to miss one moment to cherish and appreciate the people God has already given me while I'm waiting to see if we get any more.

Maybe we will.  Maybe we won't.  It's not an outcome I can control.

You can bet I'll know what kind of pregnancy test I'm using before I ask myself that question again, though!