In the Space of A Year

It’s amazing to realize how much has transpired in the space of a year.

Pearl earrings from Peter--for
our baby who would have
been due in June

A mere year and change ago, I was in a pretty dark place, having seen yet another “specialist,” trying to process the word ‘infertility’ as it was being thrown at me, and wondering what it meant for our future—a future that we’d dreamed would be filled with the beautiful chaos of lots of kids in the years to come. Then, within weeks of hearing that ugly word, we were face to face with the full reality of my diagnosis as it played out in front of us, saying goodbye to the new little life that we’d created with God’s help, seemingly filled with promise. Three months later, another painful goodbye. I knew it was pointless to question God’s will, since my mere human logic simply couldn't comprehend infinite wisdom. But I felt I wasn't ready to let go of the dreams we had or the expectations that we’d set for our future. If God was taking us down another road, I knew I had to learn to let go and try my hardest to trust Him, whether that meant bearing and raising another child or not. Yet in my humanness I wanted more time to come to terms with it all.

My daily argument with God (either while driving to work or trying to fall asleep at night) usually went something like this:

Me: "God, why?"
God: [silence]
Me: "Is it because I was being selfish? Did I not deserve them?"

My "Precious Feet" bracelet,
with little feet the same
size as a 10-week-old
baby in the womb

God: [silence] Or maybe that exasperated sigh came from Him?
Me: "I promise I won’t worry about what others think this time. And I won’t complain about anything at all if I'm pregnant again!"
 God: [silence…while rolling His eyes]
Me: "Okay, I know, deals are stupid. But was the doctor really right? Please just tell me if there’s a chance or not!"
God: [silence]
Me: "So are You saying we should adopt? [pause] Because if that's what we're supposed to do, then it would be better to do now since we have the money because when we get out of the Army we might not and...and..."
God: [silence]
Me: Sigh. "How come you never tell me anything?!"
God: "Trust Me."
Me: [silence] Did He really just say that or did I think it? 
God: "I can hear what you’re thinking."
Me: "Oh, right. Okay, You win.. I’ll work on the trust thing. But I still wish You would tell me more…"

And so my daily battle continued; I tried not to give up hope as the prospects seemed more and more dismal. Finally, on an ordinary day while driving home from work, my heart and my brain finally met halfway and resolved to give up the reigns. “Okay God…whatever you say. And I’ll try not to be disappointed if it’s not what I want.”

He must have just been waiting for that simple concession, because it seemed like no time at all before we had clearly discovered what God had in mind. We've since been party to an absolute miracle, rapidly growing into plain sight despite my initial doubt; now a full eight months have passed with one Ethan Hjelmstad gracing our lives.

Miracle boy Ethan at 4, 10, and 20 weeks!

So many other little miracles have been born from the uncertainty and loss of the past year as well: as husband and wife, our love has matured and grown wiser as we support each other, both in “for better” and in “for worse.” We’ve found some meaningful ways to honor the gifts of life who graced our own lives for such a short time, mostly because of the efforts of my wonderful husband who I swear sometimes knows me better than I know myself. And most importantly, we've learned how vital it is to appreciate the gifts we have in front of us instead of only concentrating on controlling the future.

15, 18, 24, and 34 weeks!

If this past year is any indication, I’m sure we’ll be in for a wild ride in the coming months. While I know the answer to my prayers isn’t always going to be the one I (think I) want, and the coming year holds even more uncertainty than ever in terms of career plans, health, and life in general, I also know that God’s plan trumps ours for a reason. It’s always easy to see it in hindsight, but I just pray I continue to remember that invaluable lesson in the days to come.