Its hard to know how to blog well about the last month of our lives. The Christmas pictures don't really tell the story of what has been going on. It started with joy in the beginning of December because Aubrey was pregnant. And this week is filled with crying because she's not pregnant anymore.
It all started a month ago when I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast and Aubrey came in and plopped a positive pregnancy test in front of me. We were thrilled. It made us so happy. For the last four years words like infertility, miscarriage, and fertility treatments had become a regular part of our vocabulary. And then, out of nowhere, Aubrey got pregnant when we weren't even trying. This must be how it happens for other people, getting pregnant without stressing about it for a year! It was great, at the end of a year that had had its share of difficulties and stresses, God dropped an unexpected blessing right in our laps. Of course, we know things can go wrong, and so our optimism was cautious and guarded. But there's a type of pregnancy joy and anticipation that just refuses to be guarded, even when you think you know better.
As part of her job, Aubrey has become somewhat of an ultrasound expert, and she can't help but do ultrasounds on herself. During December she did a couple ultrasounds on herself to peak at our peanut, and she wasn't quite sure things looked right. But all her hormone levels looked good. So we chalked it up to not knowing the exact timing of her progress and the awkwardness of ultrasounding your own uterus, and we kept praying for health and safety. Meanwhile we alternated between dreaming about introducing Judah to a baby sibling, and worrying about worst case scenarios.
This week, the worry was continuing, so Aubrey went to her OB on Monday, and we found out that the pregnancy is ectopic. Its like a miscarriage, but worse. So this week has been filled with sadness, grief, and trying to figure out how to tell those we love about what we're going through. In fact, we're still trying to figure out how to get our own heads around what we're going through. There's a lot of loss, and we're still processing. I learned last time that we had a miscarriage that its much worse for the wife (this might be obvious to some, but I had to go through it to learn it). In addition to everything else, they have physical issues to deal with that are a constant reminder of the pain. In fact, the medicine that Aubrey is taking now is making her feel even worse that the regular first trimester nausea. And we won't know until next week if the medicine is doing its job, and the remaining issues have been sufficiently dealt with.
At the same time this week, I started a new Bible reading plan as part of a psuedo-New Years resolution. The plan, which I did not design, had me begin reading the book of Job this week. After his own loss, Job declares, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." There's so much about that statement that I find inscrutable. Most of the time when I read it it is impossible because it seems trite, as though it couldn't possibly be true to the depth of emotional pain that Job must have been feeling. But this week it seems enigmatic not because its trite, but because there is a depth to the mystery of God's love for us, and his unfathomable providence that defies easy explanation. God is good to us, and his love and care for us is most clear to us when we see Jesus on the cross. We lost a child, and our God knows exactly how we feel, because he freely gave his own son for us, to show how much he loves us. Everything he does is for our good, to conform us to the image of his son. Beyond this, we don't have all the pieces put together, but we still share Job's sentiment.