A Cruel Pain

A month ago yesterday I took a home pregnancy test on a whim. I was shocked and thrilled to see it was positive. I woke Brandon up to tell him and he was as stunned and excited as I was. And I tried to keep it a secret as long as I could...which ended up being less than 24 hours.  The boys saw the tests in the bathroom and were naturally curious and we were excited to tell them what the tests meant, that they were going to get a baby brother or sister. I took lots of pictures and video as we told them, their expressions and excitement was priceless. The picture above is what we used to announce the pregnancy to our family. We were on could nine. And then the bottom dropped out of the cloud. 

The last two weeks have been full of pain and confusion. I'm in limbo waiting for the miscarriage my doctors say is imminent. My hcg levels dropped out of sight and the pregnancy tests now read negative. It's a cruel pain, the waiting. Because in the waiting lives the tiniest drop of hope. Hope that the doctors are wrong, hope that despite what science says that my baby is alive and thriving, hope that if I can just endure a little longer I can ask for an ultrasound that will prove there is life blossoming in my womb. 

So here I sit...wondering, hoping, doubting, grieving.

My heart tells me that my God is all powerful, all knowing, and all consuming. He knows the truest desires of my heart, He hears me when I can't bear to utter a word, and He has the power to take this tiny bit of hope in the farthest corner of my heart and make it a reality. But then my mind takes over and I realize that I sound like a lunatic to most people. That my mind is probably compensating for my grief and twisting reality to enable me to cope without having a full on mental breakdown. I know I have scoured the internet enough for stories of healthy babies born in situations like mine to know that I probably am crazy.

But I've just realized that in these last weeks I've forgotten all that I learned about the 5 Crowns of the Christian Life and I've forgotten what it means to be a daughter of the King. 

A daughter of the King is known not by the crown she wears, but the message she bears.

We are women of beauty, women of grace, women of excellence, beholding God’s face. We walk with the Lord, with integrity, knowing our purpose and destiny. No matter what happens we walk in God’s love, reflecting the beauty of our Father above. 

So while I have driven myself to anxiety, worry, lunacy, and doubt, the devil has been creeping in, doing his ever-lovin' best to steal away the crowns I have been striving to achieve. Why would these crowns be of any importance to him? Because they not only represent a life lived for Christ, they are gifts to be given to my Savior. 

Revelation 4:10-11

10 The four and twenty elders fall down before him that sat on the throne, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying, 11 Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.

I've been letting the devil steal all that I've worked for. And if I don't stop and take them back I'll be empty-handed at the feet of my Father. I'll have nothing to cast before His feet while I worship and praise Him.

So while the waiting is cruel and the unknown is frightening, I have to remember that no matter what the outcome is, my Jesus loves me. My Jesus loves me enough to have worn a crown of thorns so that I could one day be given the crowns of a Christian life.