Hey friends hey! I’ve put this post off longer than I care to admit. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share and if I did what that would look like because while I am personable, I rarely get personal. But this one is going to be a long one and I figured I’d give you that warning so you can snag coffee if you need.
So, we bought a house. I know, I know. We’re nuts because we literally just wrapped up renovations in our old house. Our {{One Room Challenge Bathroom}} just went live less than a week ago. We had no intentions on leaving for a new house; it was just time.
Our family thought process is and has always been “faith in God’s timing”. We plan and we pray, we pray and we plan, all with the knowledge that we still decide nothing in the end. Marcus and I have been saying for years that our house could sustain us through raising one child and the very day I found out I was pregnant with our second child, we would have to begin hunting for a house.
We don’t currently have even one child, so obviously moving wasn’t in the plan here and now. But with COVID-19, we joked that houses might be cheaper. To which Marcus said “it’s not like you would move anyway”.
To know me is to know, I love our first house. Our first house was my first born but something compelled me to say, “if we found the right house, I’d move”. We looked and there was our lovely second home. Listed on MLS for just the right price and on the market way longer than homes in our area sell for (e.g. we bought our first home 8 hours after it went on the market). We saw it the next day and put in an offer shortly there after. Then pulled the offer. We thought about it for a day and then we put in an offer again. And a month later, she was ours.
In the time it took us to put in the second offer, we cried and we prayed and really thought about why we were buying another home. Really what it comes down to, is that this home has room for our family to grow, for us to build long term and for us to continue to love on the people in our created community. And so it just felt right.
Somewhere in between putting in an offer and moving into our home, our purpose fell into place; I found out I was pregnant.
I don’t want to be a mother, not really anyway. Yep, I recognize this entire post thus far is about how we are shaping our lives to grow our family and so this probably seems contradictory but it’s true. I don’t have this soul deep desire to bring life into this world. Sure, I’m nurturing and warm but I’ve never felt the need to have children just because of it. At the same token, I am also the kind of person who imagines God has His own plan, even with the best of birth control. So we tend to set our lives up to stave off “life comes at you fast” syndrome.
So in between a global pandemic, a revolution, a bathroom renovation, a job interview and buying a new home, I peed on a stick and found out I was pregnant. I did the thing that black women rarely have the privilege to do (cuz systemic racism) and instantly set an appointment with my OB for confirmation. I spent the better part of a week between the at home test and the appointment, positively flustered that I was pregnant and thinking of all the things that I would have done if I had more time.
Not things like renovating a bathroom or switching roles at work early. But important things like restoring keystone relationships in my life like the one I have with my parents, like finding a church home that believes in faith and inquiry, like building a reliable support system in my town because as they say “it takes a village”.
But I didn’t have time. I had a baby on the way. I kept the news to myself for two weeks with the plan to tell Marcus for his birthday, complete with fancy gift wrapped positive pregnancy tests. Only to get test results back the day before his birthday that my hcg levels were dropping; an impending miscarriage. I opened the present to retrieve the sticks and tell him because I needed the support that only my husband and best friend could give me.
What did I, a woman who didn’t really want children or plan to have them do with the news of a miscarriage? Well, I canceled all eight of my meetings, put my “away” message on at work and wept on and off for the better part of two days. And then cried some more. Sure I wasn’t planning on being pregnant or having a child but there it was right in front of me, right inside me. Until it wasn’t.
We’d spent time together. I found myself speaking aloud a lot in those two weeks. Chatting with myself and reassuring myself that “we were going to be okay. We were going to make it. We would have a good life”. In hindsight, I realize I was speaking to the kiddo, my perpetual travel buddy.
I planned for what the next year would look like. I would hold off on tearing out the kitchen and renovating the bathrooms in the new house because a woman who’s pregnant and incredibly stressed shouldn’t be ripping out cabinetry. Start putting in the work in therapy because I need the tools to really get to the root of where I stand with my parents. I planned for what the next three years would look like. I’d take on roles at work that are truly in my wheel house so that I would feel immense passion when I was away from the little one.
I made all these plans for what I would do to prepare my life for a child, my child. And the rug was pulled out from under me. I felt this immense sense of loss. This unshakeable sense of grief for a life that could have been. For what my life could have been. I felt overwhelmed with a tangible sadness.
And then after the tears were shed and the cake eaten (because after all we had Marcus’ birthday to celebrate), I felt relief, immense relief. Not for the loss of my child but because I had more time. God gave me more time. He gave me such clarity in those two weeks. I had such a clear image of what I needed to do to make our life suitable for a little person. We weren’t ready. We aren’t ready. But we will be. Faith in His timing. Faith in His plan.
“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.” -Proverbs 16:9
But for all you mamas waiting on your little joy to come, I respect that this may not be your story. This is just my story. You deserve a happy ending. You deserve to hold your little one without worrying about if God has some ‘grand plan’ for what is going on with your womb. Whether you have lost one child at four weeks or four at forty weeks, I send you peace and love and joy and rest as you wait. Your experience and emotions, whatever they may be, are valid.
Also, I know it’s a thing that people do but please, please stop asking when couples are going to have children. As many as one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage and while it’s common, it doesn’t make it any less painful for families who may be trying. I don’t consider myself particularly sensitive to this (at this moment) but, out of respect for others, I realize there’s a need for sensitivity.
XO Prepford Wife
P.S. You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging without pictures of this perfectly renovatable house, did you? Nevaaaaah
