To The Woman Who Thought She Was Pregnant When She Wasn’t

thought she was pregnant
Maybe you thought your belly was starting to curve. Maybe you let out your gut in front of the mirror after your shower, and could swear it was protruding.

Maybe you felt a wave of nausea on the drive to work.

Maybe your bra felt tighter than usual.

Maybe you felt extra tired this month.

Maybe you had some major mood swings and your husband quipped, under his breath, “She must be pregnant.” And you pretended to roll your eyes, but inwardly you were rejoicing.

Hoping.

Dreaming.

And then you woke from that dream, two minutes after the pregnancy test. And you woke again, several days later when your period began without fail.

And maybe you scolded yourself for letting yourself believe, hope, wish that this month was different.

Maybe you vowed that you would never let yourself “expect”that you were expecting again.

Maybe your heart grew a little harder, and your dreams shrunk a little smaller. But I want to tell you something, and it might sound cliché, but it’s true:Don’t stop hoping. Don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop praying for a miracle.


Because when you stop, something dies in you. Something that very much needs to be alive if you are going to be a mom one day.

When we were trying to conceive, I wanted to give up. There were months I charted my cycles like a statistician, and other ones I picked up all those stupid charts and threw them into the garbage, along with my dreams.

And it happened on a Sunday, that a seed was planted in me. Not by my husband, not by IVF, but by a dear friend, named Stephanie. It was just a seed of hope. She knew we had been trying, and failing. And longing, and despairing.

It was such a simple thing. I was just standing alone in the church ladies’ bathroom, drying my hands on a paper towel, and she walked in and said, quite out of the blue, “Can I pray for your womb?” I kind of laughed, and then said, “Sure.” Even though, my first thought was, “What good would that do?” Even though, I had stopped praying for a baby months ago.  Even though, I already accepted this wasn’t God’s path for us. And I was trying to be okay with it. But I said, “Yes,” anyway. I told her she could pray for me.  And so, she laid her hands on my flat belly, and prayed that God would bring life there, to my womb.

That was it.

But it started something in me, like a smoldering wick that suddenly burst into flame. Like the reawakening of a dream. It was hope. And it fluttered awake in me.

And I know, it can hurt to hope. It can be dangerous to hope. But without hope, everything dies.

I knew I had already tried everything in my power to become pregnant. But the great thing about hope is that, it has nothing to do with the person who is hoping, and it has everything to do with the One who is being hoped in.

And so I felt free, because I wasn’t hoping me. I was hoping in God. The One in whom all things are possible.  

To the woman who thought she was pregnant and found out she wasn’t. To the woman who feels worn out with asking. To the woman who has stopped believing God hears,

He does hear you.

And to the woman who feels “past-due” for a miracle, I want to remind you of a woman who has felt this same way. Her name was Sarah, Abraham’s wife. And she could not have children. And she stopped hoping she ever could.

But when God has ordains something, it happens. And God had chosen Sarah to bear a son, even she was almost ninety years old.

“Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age; Sarah was past childbearing.” But God told Abraham that his wife will bear a child, and when she heard it, “Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have become old, shall I have pleasure, my lord being old also?” And the LORD said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, saying, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, when I am so old?’…” Genesis 18:11-13

Maybe you feel like Sarah. Maybe you feel too old, or too jaded to believe God could do this.

But be encouraged. He can. He still can.

And you are never beyond hope.

God still brings children into the arms of a mom who will love them, at all costs. And I don’t know how it will happen. But God still does miracles in orphanages across the ocean. And God still does miracles in the foster system and the court rooms of America. And God still does miracles in the wombs of barren women.

I see one every day. She’s blonde, and her eyes are blue like the ocean, and when she smiles, it’s like Heaven breaks through.

So don’t lose hope. You need it. And let this hope reawaken your dreams. And reawaken your prayers. Because God hears you.

Don’t stop praying for a baby.

Don’t stop praying for a miracle.

Because God still hears the cries of the barren.

And He answers them.

“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.” Ephesians 3:20-21


For more encouragement during infertility, check out these posts, About My Barrenness, How Far Is Too Far When Trying to Conceive, When the Barren Sing, Stop Waiting to be Happy, or any of the other posts in my Trying to Conceive Category. Please share these posts to encourage anyone struggling with this season.

When Motherhood Gets Messy


“Don’t touch Mommy when she’s on the potty.”

This is an actual rule in our house. One of those rules you never imagine making before entering motherhood, but makes total sense after the fact. My daughter is two, and when I’m on the toilet, she likes to stand right up next to me, with her hand on my thigh like a faithful midwife.

A midwife who won’t leave. Who screams and pounds on the door when I try to lock her out. It’s rather stressful…for all digestive purposes.

My daughter has a way of entering my space. Whether I want her to, or not. How I am disarmed by a two-year-old day after day, I am still trying to figure out.

We’re in the potty training stage right now. Which means…I currently spend most my free time sitting on the bathroom floor. Waiting for her to “finish.”

I never thought I’d be comfortable eating my breakfast cereal or drinking my coffee while she stinks up the place. But I am.

I am reaching new “lows” like a Limbo champ.

Public Bathroom or Wrestling Cage?

Public bathrooms are the worst.

My daughter is obsessed with them. Every time we’re in a new store, she wants to “go.” I’ll open the door of the stall, and she races in like she’s first in line at the gate of Disney World. And she always heads for the same place, that little one foot gap between the toilet and the wall. You know, the place where only two things—the plunger and toilet brush–should be? But alas. My girl makes three and picks them up and greets them like long lost relatives. That’s when I start screaming, “No! No!!! Yucky!! Put those down!! Yucky germs! No! No! Not in your mouth!!!” So much for peaceful parenting. Get me in a public restroom and I’m a fire-breathing dragon.

The whole experience is catastrophic. And as we take turns going potty, I’m not sure what’s worse: my turn, when she stands with her hand on the latch of the stall door, and smiles, knowing I am at her complete mercy, while I threaten her, “Don’t you DARE open that door!!” Or her turn, when she nearly takes a plunge into the enormous toilet while screaming, “I do it myself!” and then rummages her hand through the “feminine napkin” box like it’s a Happy Meal. Either way, it usually ends in a lot of screaming and scuffling and banging around. Sounding much like a wrestling cage-match to the person in the stall next to us.

(If you’re not a mom, imagine someone trying to sit on a toilet and wrestle an alligator at the same time. Because that’s much what’s going when Mommy and Toddler are in the next stall.)

[Click here to finish reading the rest of this post at Thriving Home Blog, where I have had the priviledge of being featured by Polly and Rachel.]

To The Woman Still Longing To Be A Mom

I am thinking of you tonight. Actually, I think of you often. I know how you feel when you walk through the Baby section at Target. Maybe with a gift registry in your hand, and wonder if you will ever own a tiny bathtub like the one you are buying. You wonder if you will ever own little onesies, or little shoes, or little anything. Because right now, the miracle seems so far away.

You will go to the baby shower and hear all the “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s” over every little, tiny gift, and wonder if you will ever have any little tiny gifts of your own to open? Will your stomach ever round with life? Will you ever hold a baby and whisper over him or her, the word you long to say, “Mine.

I know how your heart aches, and waits, and wonders at a life that seems so easy for others, even “accidental” for many, but so seemingly impossible and difficult for you.

Maybe tonight you hold out fragile hands to a God, that you have to believe, hope against hope, is a good Father. And gives good gifts to His children. And that He gives bread and not stones. Even when you can’t taste it yet.

For the woman who feels He is far tonight, I’m thinking of you. For the woman who is growing weary of waiting tonight, I’m thinking of you. And for the woman who has yet to hold her child lost in miscarriage, I’m thinking of you.

And maybe you never got see your baby’s face. Maybe you never even got to give your baby a name. But God knows your baby’s face. God knows your baby’s name. He knew from the moment He breathed him or her into existence. And though your arms ache to hold that child, He is holding him or her tonight. And though you’d give the world to sing them lullabies, He sings over them tonight. And I know you have to wonder, why aren’t they here? With me? And I do not know such a mystery. All I can wonder is, perhaps the world was not worthy of such a one.

They were too precious.

I’m not trying to make you grieve. I just want you to know that I love you tonight. And I think about you. And I want you to know God has filled me with compassion, and love, and hope for you.
Because you are the reason I started Barren to Beautiful. Your pain, and confusion, and your aching heart is the reason. And I know, we have never met. I wish we could. I wish I could hear your story. I wish I could hear your heart’s cry tonight. I wish I could console you.

And so, because I can’t, I just want to turn my gaze toward the One who can. The God who made you, and loves you, and has ordained your life with purpose. And so I’m just going to pray for you, if you want to join in:
Dear God,
I lift up my sister to You tonight. And though this is just a little blog post, You are a big God. And so I pray that You would break into the room where she is right now, by Your Spirit. And show her that You are real. And that You have the power, and that Your Spirit gives life.

Show her that You hear her cries in the night, even the quiet whispers of her heart. You know her dreams. You’ve seen them all. And before a word is on her tongue, O Lord, You know it completely.

You formed her together in her mother’s womb, Your eyes saw her unformed body. And all the days ordained for her were written in Your book, before one of them came to be.

And thank you that this is not the end. Thank you that endless and boundless life flows from You. Thank you that in You, death has lost it’s power. Death has lost it’s sting. And that the Day is coming when Death will be swallowed up in Life forever.

So bring comfort to her heart, and peace to her soul. And when her body is weak and gives out, be her strength. When her body fails her, month after month, let her say, “Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is none on earth I desire besides You. Though my heart and my flesh may fail, You are the strength of my heart, and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:25-26
God, come close to her tonight–because you say in Your Word to the barren woman,

O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted,
    behold, I will set your stones in antimony,
    and lay your foundations with sapphires.” Isaiah 54:11

I pray you would fill her with Your Holy Spirit, and that her heart and soul would overflow with Your life. And that though her womb may be barren, her spirit would not be barren any longer. Minister to her tonight. And let her rest in You, and to wake with perfect peace as she fixes her mind on You all night long.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

P.S My husband recorded this beautiful song in our living room the other night. And he did it for a friend who is grieving right now, but I just wanted to share it with you as well. It’s a very old hymn called, “Whate’er My God Ordains Is Right.” Click here to listen to it. Perhaps it will minister to you, as much as it does to me.

Much love. You are my heart. And feel free to connect on Facebook, or via email at barrentobeautifulblog.com . For more of my story or encouragement during infertility, check out the posts in the Trying To Conceive category on my blog.

Love,

Rebekah

“Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.” Isaiah 30:18