While I’m not making a purposeful attempt to sound the least bit conceited, I love my smile in this photo. Better yet, I love what’s behind my smile in this photo. This was our first family Christmas photo. Yep, I said family. I was about two months pregnant in this photo. And although I’d missed my favorite time of the month a couple of times, (sarcasm inserted here), I wasn’t certain that I was pregnant seeing I‘d already taken a few pregnancy tests that confirmed no little one was on the way. My doctor’s appointment to validate my pregnancy was a few days away and I was a bucket-o-joy and a ball of nerves until then.
You see, based off of some previous health diagnoses, I wasn’t supposed to be able to conceive a child let alone carry one full term. There was a 98% certainty that I wouldn’t. But there I was with two missed cycles and a belly full of person. I must have walked on egg shells for weeks up until my appointment. I think I tip-toed in my heels the night of this photograph because I’d heard myths about pregnant women miscarrying from walking around in high heel shoes. What a nervous happy mess I was. I remember slipping on my dress that night and thinking to myself, “Wow. I might be pregnant. I really might be pregnant.”
Whelp, a few days later my husband and I went to my appointment. I was so exhausted that morning. We arrived to the office. And while I made my way to the bathroom to give a free sample, I asked the nurse if she’d walk my husband back to the room where I’d possibly be to get the news. She agreed, I filled passed the line, and was then escorted to the room to wait with my husband.
I wasn’t seated more than a few minutes when the nurse popped back into the room with the biggest smile on her face and said, “YOU’RE PREGNANT!” My whole world lit up. My hubby, who also doubles as the family photographer, immediately pulled out his cell phone and captured my joy. He had that outer glow of an inner ‘Thank you God’ going on. This would also be his first child.
Then, the proclamations began. I’m going to eat right. I’m going to exercise everyday. I’m going to rest when need too. And I’m going to pray over my baby everyday. My amen corner agreed, while throwing in a few you’re going to do this and that as well. We were so overjoyed at the news. Then a silence overtook the room while we awaited the doctor’s presence. My mind went back to a moment, a Sunday, when I was fourteen years old and my mother was allowing our home to be used by a local pastor who needed a space to hold his ministry services. At the end of a service, he called me up to the front and asked my mother if it was okay if he prayed for me. My mother, not standing more than a few feet away, agreed. He began to pray for future success for me in my educational and employment endeavors. He prayed that I would have discernment when choosing friends and relationships, as well as some other things. But what I payed attention to the most, was when he begin to pray for my health. He prayed that God would heal whatever feminine health issues were plaguing me. My mom and I were a little confused by that part, seeing I was a healthy and physically active teen with no known adverse health conditions. But, it was a good prayer, so we went along with it.
Fast forward 18 years, after three adverse prognoses from three different doctors, and there I was sitting in a chair at my doctor’s office filled with a little defyer of the odds growing on the inside of me. Boy was I a poster child for God having the final say after the facts speak volumes.
Without relaying the memory to my husband, I looked up at him and broke the silence, “We have a little miracle growing.” He just smiled back.
Since then, whenever this time of the season rolls around, I think about how when I was just a teen—a kid, God had healing in His plans for me. He had a miracle in mind for me—two as a matter of fact. I’ve had two babies almost back to back based off the facts, and I carried them in perfect health.
So, in this season of miracles, my husband and I take time to celebrate the many we’ve been given.
He always has the final say…