A Rainbow After The Storm

Tana Denney
Wed, 04 Jan 2017 21:45:39 +0000

Hey, you. You there. You're probably sitting in your bathroom crying. It's that time of the month, it's here again. I bet you were praying those two pink lines would come though, and in desperation lingering at the your fingertips, you leave that test on the counter and cross your fingers. You say a quick prayer as you approach the bathroom, your heart is probably racing a marathon with anxiety. There it sits; you come back only to see one line, not two on that test you've taken for months, and even years. It's became the normal now. You tell yourself, "Stop stressing! God's got this..." and you patiently await for the next month, only to see yourself standing in the bathroom mirror with tears rolling down your face as life keeps repeating itself.

You then approach your doctors. They can't seem to find a rhyme or a reason why it just isn't happening. Some tell you that you have no hope. They refer you to a doctor for IVF. You slam the car door. You sit down. You cry some more. "Why?" Tears then again hit your cheeks and prayers go high. Questioning God's work and wonders. You try to take it in your own hands. You find another doctor. Your husband finds one, too. There again, it could be this or it could be that, but no positive answers. It was explained to you as, "Unexplained Infertility." You get on medicine. It makes your hormones go crazy, but you're going to do whatever it takes. You're going to have a baby! You know it's in your destiny; you deserve one more shot at motherhood, or a chance at motherhood just like your friends who all seem to be getting pregnant with no problems all around you. When they tell you their exciting news, you smile and then congratulate them only wishing you could be in their same shoes. It's probably the friend that has hesitation to tell you, but they know that they are going to have to bite the bullet because regardless, you are friends and you're going to be happy for them, and you are! You are overjoyed for them because you know how big of a blessing it is.

After hospital tests, different medications, you give up. It's been 4 years. You've lost one baby already. The pain still is engraved in your heart. You're done. Thousands of dollars spent to just get, yet the same answers, again. You then step back for a moment and breathe. You realize, "Hey! It's okay. If this isn't in God's plans, I'll learn to accept it and move on." God knows best. He always knows best. He has your life already written. Every line and every page, done.

Months and months still linger by. No luck. You've moved on with your life. You've got kids already, or you're trying for the first time. Or you at times feel selfishly that you're wanting one more. Just that... one... more. It's just not happening. Frustration flies. Your emotions finally come to a conclusion; you're good with life now. You've accepted the fact that your little ones that you have are all that you need. Or maybe motherhood just isn't in your plans. It's going to be okay. You're not the only one who suffers the grief of never holding your own child, or another child to warm your heart. Your heart remains broken on the inside, but on the out, it looks mended together. To the public eye, you're strong. To your husband, your a fighter. You're never a quitter. It's just okay to cry. We're in this together. God's got this. You still continue to pray. Prayers are said daily and nightly. Every time you see a baby item in Target you just brush by that isle praying one day that you'll be able to hold a baby in that sweet pink or blue sleeper. You can see future maternity pictures in the back of your head...something is just letting you know, you need to hang tight. Don't rush something you cannot make happen. Let God do what he needs to do first.

You're 12 days late. You wonder... you're stressing. That's what is causing it. That's all. Calm down. Let your body adjust back, STOP stressing. You know this routine. Breathe. Don't even worry about another test, you've already wasted so much money and probably can own stock by now in First Response's company, right? Right.

You then wake up the next morning. Something tells you, "Hey! It's time." It's God whispering in your ear and from your heart you listen to him. You randomly go to the store, you're hesitating about throwing another test in your buggy, but you do. Hope still remains, and faith has remained bigger; even though you remained questionable through this whole process, you're only human. You have emotions. You just finally gave it all to Him. You got tired. Your weakness took over your strength. There was no more being strong on your end. You needed the big man upstairs to take this over. You have nothing left to give, just another silent prayer.

Through this process you've learned about appreciating the little things and the children you have birthed and have already. You've embraced their love, little milestones and their changes with their little hands and feet a little more. You laugh at more of the stuff sometimes you didn't notice. Or you have thought about adopting. You know this is the last shot.

Then, God show up and shows out. That last test you bought, well it was worth every penny! It's positive!! You're probably in denial and shaking horribly. "Is this really even true? I've got to pee on another!" Yep. It comes back positive. It's true. You run to your husband. Your legs are shaking. You mentally prepare to remain on egg shells for the first 12 weeks, but that first doctor's appointment you see that heart beat. That tiny heart beat which caused your tears to flow. A tissue is then handed to you by the ultrasound tech with a; "Congrats, mommy and daddy!" You hold that little picture of your peanut close to your heart. You cry with happiness. You praise the good Lord for keeping you in mind through this storm. You praise Him for allowing you to see the little things that needed to be seen while this storm blew on through.

There it is, your little miracle in your tummy. Knitted by the good Lord himself; He heard every prayer and every tear. Never left your side through it all. Now, you await to hold your little rainbow baby. You're waiting for the moment you finally have that baby you spent many months, and years praying for. You don't care if it's a he or a she, you just want them healthy and here.

Myself; I have an awesome testimony. I'd love to share. And, I do. I just shared mine.

I'm waiting to hold my precious little one who's been prayed for, for so long who is now growing in that not so empty tummy anymore. A blessing of all colors. Our prayers were finally answered. On God's time. Not mine. Not ours. His.

This is my story. A testimony of never loosing hope and always keeping my faith.
And when it's your turn to tell yours; just remember that there is always a rainbow after every storm, and pass that message along. You never know who is struggling too.

- T