"Praying for a heartbeat"

My last blog entry was about finding out that I was pregnant.  It was truly one of the happiest days of my life- regardless of how cliche that sounds, it's just the truth!  I had only lived in Chattanooga for a couple of months, so finding a doctor was kind of like picking a number out of a hat.  I found a doctor with an opening in her schedule, and I went in to have her confirm my pregnancy.  She confirmed that I was pregnant, but when she performed an ultrasound, she didn't see anything.  She didn't explain why this could happen; she just said "sometimes this happens..." and "we could talk about our options."  The look on my face probably told her that I wasn't wanting to talk about any "options," so she told me that they would do some blood work and call me later.  I was pretty confused and really scared, but before I could ask her anything else, she was out of the room and onto the next patient.  I had already started imagining what it would be like to have a baby- the names, the nursery, the tiny little clothes i'd get to buy- so this was just incredibly unsettling.  So, my mother-in-law offered to help me get an appointment with a doctor that came highly recommended.  I wanted a doctor with a little better bedside manner, so I readily agreed.  So, even though this doctor wasn't taking new patients, she made and exception and we scheduled an appointment.  

We went in for a second ultrasound, fully expecting good news.  I was just SURE that the only reason that we didn't get to see our baby the first time was just because the doctor was mean. (This is why I'm not a scientist.)  So, when they performed the ultrasound at the "nice" doctor's office, I wasn't expecting more scary news, but the ultrasound technician showed us where the baby should be, and explained that there wasn't a "fetal pole"- in other words, there wasn't a heartbeat. I'm pretty sure (at the risk of sounding melodramatic) that I didn't have one either at this point.  She told us that the doctor would be in to talk to us shortly.  Dr. McLelland came into the room where we were waiting, she said down, and I burst into tears.  She was so kind.  She just looked at Christopher and said, "I don't think y'all got the news you wanted to hear today, but I want to explain it further." and she did.  She told us that sometimes all this meant was that it was too soon to see the heartbeat.  She said that sometimes there was still a chance that the heartbeat would develop, and that until a certain date had passed (sort of the "deadline" for the heartbeat to begin), that she was "cautiously optimistic." Do doctors realize that patients literally memorize their words when they are afraid? I hope so.  I think Dr. McLelland does.  She chose hers very carefully.  So, she scheduled us an appointment for December 21, and even though I left in tears, I felt a lot better about the hands I was in. 

So, the praying began.  I mean it really began.  I remember one of my sisters sent me a few emails and at the end of each one she'd sign it-"Praying for a heartbeat." I was too.  Pretty much every moment of the day.  I had no idea how far along I was in my pregnancy, and the doctors didn't know for sure either, so we had no idea if I was past the "deadline" that I mentioned earlier. All I know is that I prayed and I prayed and I prayed.  My mom sent this to me, and it held true for that long week:

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"Supplication means to ask with earnestness, with intensity, with perseverance. It is a declaration that we are deadly serious about this prayer business. We are going to keep at it and not give up. John Calvin wrote, 'We must repeast the same supplications not twice or three times only, but as often as we have need, a hundred and a thousand times...we must never be weary in waiting for God's help.'"

I think I repeated the same supplication about a million times, and I really think that that may be an accurate number. 

So, after a sleepless night on December 20, we went back to Dr. McLelland's office.  It felt like we were in the waiting room forever, but it was only for about 5 minutes, I'm sure!  Finally they called us back, and the ultrasound tech started the ultrasound.  Almost immediately she said, "do you hear that?!" and I did! I could hear our baby's heartbeat! It was the most comforting sound I think i've ever heard.  I cried again. (Stupid hormones!) It was such a happy day! Dr. McLelland celebrated with us, and I could have hugged her- not just because she gave us good news, but because she, unlike too many doctors, didn't discuss any option other than simply waiting.  She continued to be an incredible doctor throughout my pregnancy, and I think she understood when she walked into the delivery room why I had the heartbeat monitor turned up to full volume.  

According to the "math," there should have been a heartbeat way before there was.  I believe that Sarah Claire's heartbeat is just a constant reminder of one of the most comforting truths: God answers prayer.  He could have said "No," and it still would have been an answer, but He said "Yes!" and gave me this precious (currently squealing) little girl. I will have the privilege of telling Sarah Claire one day that it was during my pregnancy with her that I really learned what praying without ceasing means.  And also, that she is the answer to that prayer!  

Here is the most recent picture of Sarah Claire!