The Darkest Day

Thank you for dropping by! Since publishing the post below, I have finished adding the rest of our story in a separate post. I invite you to read it in its entirety by reading “There’s Been a Change of Plan”. Thanks!

~Michael

The hospital room felt unusually cold and impersonal. The dark cloud that now settled over us at the end of the maternity wing had all but extinguished the fire of excitement we felt earlier in the day.

As my wife and I sat together in stunned silence, I thought about the finished nursery that awaited us back at home. Heidi and I had put the final touches on it only a few days ago in eager anticipation of our long-awaited baby boy. I envisioned the crib sitting against the far wall decorated with new blue and brown sheets and plush, comfy blankets. I could hear the mobile softly playing its lullaby as the matching blue and brown stars danced slowly in circles. The changing table and dresser sat against the opposite wall filled with new clothes, toys, and diapers that our friends and family gave us as shower gifts.

When I considered the possibility that the two of us may be returning home to an empty nursery, a lump began to form in my throat.

Heidi just stared out the window, her face expressionless. The emotional capital we had spent throughout this process seemingly rendered both of us unable to cry.

Like many other couples, Heidi and I started our marriage with the ideal plan for having children. We knew when we wanted to start trying, how many we wanted, how far apart we wanted them, and what we would call them once we had them. We wistfully imagined having the perfect mix of boys and girls and decided it would be best to try and avoid having any two children in diapers at the same time. By our standards, we had the perfect family plan in place.

But God had a different plan.

As a young and healthy married couple, the thought of having to fight a battle against infertility was one of the furthest things from our minds. Somewhere in the midst of five years of unsuccessfully trying to conceive children (and all the medication, anticipation, and frustration that goes along with infertility), we had come to realize that we were a bit naïve to think that we really had control over our family plan.

Prayer quickly became a regular hallmark in our struggle to start a family. Eventually, we realized that the only thing we could realistically control is whether or not we put our trust completely in God and accept the fact the His plan is more perfect than ours. We decided that we would be patient and wait for God’s timing – and we definitely waited.

Back in the hospital room, I tried to ignore the growing sense of despair that I felt welling up inside me. A few hours earlier we were certain that our thousands of prayers had been answered, but now we were forced to confront the unsettling possibility that we may lose the very child who we were sure was our long-awaited answer.

I tried my best to stay positive and I kept reminding Heidi that we put this entire situation in God’s hands long ago and that he wasn’t going to bring us this far just to take everything away.

Just then, a woman walked through the door with a bleak look on her face and gave us the news we had been dreading.

To be continued…



read to be read at yeahwrite.me

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This evening, Heidi and I walked to our community park to let Harrison play around a bit (his new favorite thing is going down slides). We also wanted to take an opportunity to get out of the house and enjoy some of this beautiful Phoenix weather. Unfortunately for us, our trip of fun and family time was contaminated by a particular behavior that I believe has gotten out of hand in America: public cursing.

This is a repost of something I wrote a few years ago, so if you’re wondering why I’m referring to Harrison like he’s a one-year-old, it’s because he was at the time. This is an issue I still feel strongly about, so I decided to bring it back to the surface.


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I have some thoughts on that.


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