From Joy to Fear and Back Again
February 15, 2025, started like any other day. Little did I know, it would be the day my world would change. That morning, I took a deep breath, held onto hope, and took not one, but two pregnancy tests. As I stood there watching the faint lines appear, my heart pounded in my chest. Positive. Both of them.
Tears of joy streamed down my face. My husband and I had been praying for this moment since the day we said, "I do." Only six months into our marriage, and here it was—the confirmation that we were stepping into parenthood. I felt a mix of excitement, nervousness, and gratitude. Six months may seem like a short time to some, but as my VP always says, "One day is 1,000 years to God, and 1,000 years is one day—the scripture says it!" That moment felt like divine timing.
We celebrated quietly, our hearts swelling with anticipation, picturing our lives with a tiny human who would be part of our world. Every prayer whispered in faith felt answered. Until February 22, just one week later.
We were lounging on the couch, watching TV like any other night, when suddenly, I felt a gush of blood. My breath caught in my throat. I froze. This isn’t normal. My stomach twisted as fear and confusion overtook me. My heart pounded as I ran to the bathroom, barely able to process what was happening. This can't be real.
As I sat there, looking down, my mind raced in every direction. I had prayed for this moment, and now... was it being taken away? Why, God? Why now? My sweet husband, sensing my distress, sprang into action—gathering my clothes, tossing them into the washer, and rushing back to my side. He placed his hands gently on mine and said, "God has a plan."
I love this man. I love the way he speaks life into me even when my own words fail. But at that moment, the fear and panic were too strong to push aside. Was this a miscarriage? Was my baby gone?
I had to do something. I needed answers. I had to confirm if life still existed in my womb. Desperation fueled me as I searched for the earliest available OBGYN appointment. According to my Mira app, I was exactly six weeks pregnant, which I knew was still early for a first scan, but I didn’t care. I spent two hours emailing and calling doctors' offices, looking for an opening, anything to bring me peace of mind.
Finally, exhausted and emotionally drained, I forced myself to step away from the frantic searching. I tried to sit back down with my husband and pick up where we left off on our show, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. What could cause this much blood if it wasn’t a miscarriage? The sight of a clot in the toilet haunted me—was that my little peanut? The questions wouldn’t stop, and sleep seemed impossible.
Then, I did what I do best—I turned to ChatGPT.
Typing with trembling fingers, I asked, "What is it called when a large amount of blood comes out of you but you don’t miscarry?" My heart pounded as I waited for an answer, hoping that such a thing was even possible.
The response came: "Subchorionic hematoma or implantation bleeding." It went on to explain both possibilities, and suddenly, I realized—I had been holding my breath. I let out a long exhale, thanking God under my breath.
I still had hope.
Just as I started to relax, my husband walked into the room, shaking his head with a knowing smile. "I knew you weren’t going to sleep."
I laughed. Because he was right. How could I?
This journey has already been one of faith, uncertainty, and complete surrender. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I do know this: God hears, God sees, and God has a plan. And for now, that truth is enough to keep me going.
