Written at the beginning of April, 2012.
When I was nearly eleven years old, my parents surprised everyone by announcing the birth of a son. I wasn’t too sure how I felt about that until the first time I met him. He was so small. I could hold his tiny head in my hand and his body fit just right, coming to my elbow perfectly. Watching him grow, seeing the joy he brought to our family, sealed the deal for me. I wanted babies – lots and lots of babies.
I began babysitting, then was a nanny, and through it all my resolve has remained the same. If I know anything, it’s that I’m called to be a mother. I informed Rick of this fact long before we ever got serious. He wants to be a father as well, enjoying the father-son relationship he has and seeing the beauty (that’s a girl word – he’d probably prefer I use something more manly here, but what?) of the father-son relationship his nephew has with his son.
We aren’t exactly spring chickens, so we both agreed that we’d have no problem if a baby came right away. Today we start into our fourth month of marriage with no discernible pregnancy and it is often on our minds.
Last month, when I discovered I wasn’t pregnant, my sister’s phone rang. I was sad, but not devastated. I know it can take a while, and I know how much stress we’ve been under as we set up the house and get used to being married. I told her that I just want to know that we’re capable of having babies and that we will have them some day. It’s the not knowing that’s bothering me. I’ve prayed for our children for as long as I’ve been praying for my husband. At eleven years old, I laid my hand on my womb and asked God to give us healthy, whole, happy, godly children who would bring glory to His name. I asked for ease in childbirth too. I repeatedly made these requests and continue to do so. But I prayed for my husband for a really long time before he came around.
With all the answered prayers I’ve recently seen, you’d think I might feel confident that God would answer the prayers for children as well. Instead, I’ve faced that sneaky fear that creeps in without me even realizing it, telling me nothing has ever come easy to me in this department. Why will this answer come easy? And what if the answer is “no”? So please, please, please – could I just know for sure that we’ll have the babies we so desire??? THEN I can be at peace!
And in the middle of this tirade my sister was so patiently listening to, I believe I heard the voice of God. He broke right through my tantrum with these words: Kimberly, haven’t I promised you children? And haven’t I kept all my promises to you so far?
I got off the phone with my sister pretty quick. Ashamed: that’s what I felt. Ashamed that I could so easily forget His promises to me. God has promised me children, leading me over and over to Isaiah 54, which promises “more are the children of the barren”… I really DO know how it will work out. There’s no reason to be so afraid.
As I began to rest in that promise, doubt tried to return. But how do you know God actually promised you that. What if you made it up in your head? Does God really speak to you at all, or have you just made up all of this?
I really did consider this thought for a while. But when these doubts come to me from time to time, I’ve found my answer for them. I would rather look like a fool, believing the voice that sounds like God to me, than risk actually not believing God. I can only do the best I know to do. God knows my heart. He knows I’m trying to following His voice (and not doing anything that contradicts Scripture). If I get it wrong, there is tremendous grace for my failure.
So I will continue to believe God has promised us children. I will continue to believe that this home, this husband, this life I am so enjoying, is an answer to prayer and a blessing from the Lord. And I will wait until God gives us the promise, believing that His timing is perfect and He knows better than we do what we need.
Thy will be done.