A Story about Grace

Kris and I have a really neat story to share. (It's a long one - you might want to make some tea...)

It began happening almost exactly a year ago now. I've held this story close to my heart, and until now, have only told people close to me, or told it in bits and pieces. But I feel like I want to share it now, and I want to give all the glory to my Heavenly Father, who has (again) proved Himself to be so, so good.

Early last summer, Kris and I decided it was time to have another child. We quickly got pregnant, and we were really excited. Not quite 2 weeks after we found out about this little person, we ended up having a miscarriage. We were both devastated. It was awful, and hard, and even though I knew many people who had had a miscarriage and how common they are, I don't think I ever thought I would be there myself. It was very, very tough. We still remember and wonder who that little person would have been, but know that he/she is being held by the best Father ever.

Because our miscarriage happened fairly early on, the doctor had told us that we could start trying again whenever we felt ready. Of course, at that time, neither of us felt like we could even think about trusting again, or being at a place where we were okay. However, it wasn't long before we started feeling like it was okay to try again, and we really appreciated the words of a respected pastor in our life who told us that trying again, even so soon, was NOT a dishonour to the child we had lost. We hung on to that truth, and to the memory of our little one, and decided to carry on with the plans we had for our family. To our surprise, we ended up getting pregnant again on the first round. We were thrilled, and though we were a bit scared, we both decided we would not live in fear.

One morning, when I was about 12 weeks along, I went to the washroom and found that I had some spotting. The devastation hit me immediately. Because I had been there once before, all the thoughts of "it could be nothing" and "this doesn't necessarily mean anything" were gone. I instantly was convinced we were losing another baby. And I couldn't do it. I was scared, and angry, and just plain terrified. I immediately called Kris at work, who rushed home to take me in to the hospital.

The doctor came in, and after some questions, began searching for our baby's heartbeat. And searched. And searched. 10 heart-wrenching minutes passed as the doctor tried and tried to find something distinguishable on the Doppler. Nothing. She said she would have to send me for an ultrasound to see what was really going on. She also said that my cervix was a little bit open, which was a bit of a concern, but also can be normal if it's not a first baby. As we were getting ready to go, she apologized, and told us that miscarriages are really common and that it wasn't our fault. I knew what she was thinking. I left with a requisition for an ultrasound the following day, my eyes filled with tears, and my heart filled with fear for my child.

Kris stayed home the rest of that day. I remember just thinking and pleading, over and over, that I couldn't do this again. It had been too hard, and I couldn't do it all over. That evening, after Sam had gone to bed, we decided to spend some time praying. Kris started praying for the life of our child. And then I was filled with the feeling that we were supposed to pray for a name for this little one. Kris agreed, and we both fell silent as we asked God to lay a name, the same name, on both of our hearts. After a few moments, Kris said, "So?" With a shaky voice, I said, "Grace". I was scared that Kris was not going to say the same name. But he looked at me with huge eyes and said, "me too". That was just the beginning of God showing us how good He is.

After some more prayer, God gave Kris and I peace, and the confidence that everything was going to be fine. Our baby was okay. More than okay. And we came away thinking and dreaming about this little girl who God named "Grace".

But then the next morning hit. We were flooded with doubt, worry, and fear yet again. We started questioning what God has told and shown us. We even wondered if "Grace" was a name for a future child, instead, and that maybe this child was not going to make it.

A few hours before our ultrasound, Kris took Sam out to do a few errands. When he got home, he told me about how he had ended up at our church's office, and had told our pastor about what was going on. Kris explained about our prayer time, but how we didn't really know what it all meant. That maybe it didn't mean our baby was okay. But our pastor said to Kris, "God gave you the name for THIS child, right?" Kris said that He had. "So then why in the world would you think it was for another child?!" So true! Kris told me about how we needed to stand firm on the truths that God had given us, and to discredit anything that was a contradiction to that. We knew what God had told us.

We went to our ultrasound. Prior to getting there, and having been through the process with Sam, I was ready and waiting for a fight when they would inevitably ask Kris to wait in the waiting room until they called him. Earlier, I had imagined myself tearing into the nurse, and demanding that my husband be with me when I find out if my child is alive or not. However, with the peace I had in my heart, I knew I didn't need him. Kris waited in the waiting room, and I walked confidently into the room with the nurse. By myself. (But not really.)

I waited while the nurse rolled the ultrasound tool around on my abdomen. If you've ever been to an ultrasound before, you'll know how insanely nerve-wracking it is - they roll around, and type stuff while they stare at the screen. And they DON'T SAY A THING. It was completely silent for many minutes. Then finally she said some of the sweetest words I have ever heard:

The baby has a heartbeat of 140. Everything's looking great!

I cried. Then Kris came in and together we watched our little person dance around in there. It was amazing. Truly, truly amazing.

Life carried on, and so did my pregnancy. Because God had given us a female name, we felt very sure that we were having a girl. We (okay, it was just me) felt the temptation to find out the baby's sex at our 20 week ultrasound, just to see, but decided not to. I remember both of us (I finally came around) feeling that we didn't need to, because we had faith in God's words to us. I even had a cool experience when I stumbled across a book all about a little girl named "Grace". I felt like God was just giving me more and more signs about this little person.

The day to have our baby arrived. We were so excited and we just felt bathed in God's blessing - to think that we were ready to deliver our child, whose life we were so scared for not so many months before.

After a pretty quick labour, it was time for our baby to make its appearance. After a bit of pushing, out came our little... BOY! I remember the mix of excitement and shock! It's funny, because at NO point was there any feeling of disappointment, even though we had been so sure he was a girl. The last few weeks of my pregnancy, however, I had really been feeling like it was a boy. For some reason, I just felt like a boy made sense for us. I really wanted another little boy. I was thrilled when we saw our little Jack.

Jack Robert was a name we had picked for our baby, if he was boy, from early on in the pregnancy. At the end of our pregnancy, Kris and I chatted again about boys' names, "just in case". Another name that we liked was "Daniel". So after Jack was born, the nurses asked what his name was. We didn't know. We hadn't really felt like it was necessary to decide, because we were sure we were having a little "Grace"! We thought about it for a while. A few hours passed. We knew we needed to decide, so that we could call people with our wonderful news (we had only told our parents so far). I thought for a few minutes, and said, "I really think his name should be Jack. It just feels right." Kris said that he had been thinking the same thing. So, Jack it was!

Those first few hours and days, as I was thinking and pondering about Jack, I started asking God about why we had felt so strongly that our baby was a girl, and why he had told us that "Grace" should be her name. Kris and I were both confused. We knew that we would eventually know (at least some of) the reasons. To this day, we're still discovering little things that God is showing us about that.

The day we came home from the hospital, I realized that we didn't even know what the meaning of Jack's name was. We just liked it without really researching it. I knew it was another form of the name "John", but didn't know anything beyond that. So while Kris ran out with Sam to go pick up some lunch for us, I looked it up. Tears filled my eyes as I read the meaning of my little boy's name:

"God is gracious."

It all made perfect sense.

Since Jack has been born, God has been showing me more and more about what it means to live in His grace. Experiencing God's grace, in some ways for the first time in my life, has allowed me to have more grace for myself, and more grace for others. My baby boy is a constant reminder to me of how, indeed, God is so, SO gracious. That's what he was telling Kris and I a year ago when he told us that he would be "Grace". God sent me His "grace" through my little boy.

So that's the story of our little Jack, our precious little boy who (with his awesome older brother, of course!) fills this house with love and joy. And who reminds us on a daily basis to experience God's grace.