Adrie’s Testimony

As I am writing this, I get to stare at my now almost four year old miracle baby daughter. A daughter that was not suppose to be here without struggling to concieve. But God’s timing and miracle’s are beyond human comprehension…

You see, I suffer from PCOS and rarely have regular periods. When I was diagnosed, I was told that it would be difficult for me to conceive, if at all possible. The doctor told me that we would have to try fertility treatments when we are ready to start trying for a baby.

When my husband and I got engaged, I told him that he has to be sure that he wants to marry me if chances are good that I might not be able to bare a child. He made peace and ensured me that he will be okay if we don’t get pregnant. It always bothered me until one day I prayed to the Lord and said that, I now give it over to him completely. I am no longer going to worry about it or feel saddened by it.

We did get married and I was on contraceptives to try and ease my PCOS  related symptoms. We decided that we would go on a fertility treatment one year after marriage. Four months after we got married, I had a dream. In my dream I was given the words: “Nothing is impossible to God.” In my dream, I saw my toddler daughter named Mea. When I woke up, I truly believed I was pregnant. I did a test and it was negative. (Remember, I was still on contraceptives). Despite this, I still was convinced that I was pregnant. I decided to take another test the following day. There was a faint second line on the stick. My brain was telling me one thing–and my heart something else. It simply was not possible.

I then Googled the words given to me in my dream and learned that it was in fact Luke 1:37! (For nothing will be impossible with God.” Luke 1:37) I called my husband and we went to our doctor. He was also very skeptical and said that the sonar does show that it looks like I ovulated, but we must not get our hopes up and come back in two weeks time.

Two weeks passed and we were back at the doctor. Then the sonar did show our little miracle! Everything was not smooth sailing, as I had a threatening miscarriage early on. Thanks to a miracle working God and a wonderful doctor, our baby carried through and we had no severe further complications. When the sonar eventually confirmed the baby’s sex, I knew what her name was suppose to be.

We decided to name her Mea-Lemé. Our pastor told us to search for the meaning of her name because it will mean something. To our surprise, or rather amazement, Mea means work of the Lord, to bitterly desire something, deeply hoped for child, daughter, mine. How faithful is our God? Our beautiful blue-eyed blonde girl truly is our greatest blessing and we thank God for her each day. Even though we might not have another, we leave that up to the Lord. To all the women out there, stay positive. Let go and let God!

–Adrie


I am in awe of God. Thank you so much for sharing your story Adrie, and I think so many women who read these testimonies can relate to what you’ve been through, not only with your struggle in dealing with PCOS, but also in longing, yearning to be pregnant, then praying to carry to term, a healthy and happy baby. What a beautiful story! Adrie, you’re so brave to share with us!

If you would like to share your testimony of how God has healed your womb, or how He has healed, or is healing your soul (whether or not you have a baby) please email me at [email protected] and check out the writer’s guidelines at “Want To Share Your Testimony?” I feature a Testimony each Tuesday, you can also subscribe with your email address, or follow along on my Facebook Page.

Photo by Daniela Rey on Unsplash

Bonnie’s Testimony

 

It’s Testimony Tuesday! Bonnie is here to share her testimony with us:

A few short weeks after meeting my soulmate and future husband, we were already planning our lives together. Being an only child myself, we wanted to have both a boy and a girl and had their names already picked. We got married 3 years later at the age of 26 and began trying to start a family.

Much to my dismay, I struggled with secondary amenorrhea after going off the pill for the next few years. After finally seeking medical advice and having every test known to man to rule out any thyroid issues, ovarian cysts, or pituitary gland tumors, it was determined that the only way I’d ever conceive would be through fertility treatments and possibly in vitro.

I was told by the fertility specialist that it would take a “miracle” to conceive without treatments since I wasn’t menstruating, which is a crucial part of conceiving. My husband and I prayed for God’s wisdom and but just didn’t feel at peace about using “man’s” methods over His, and we didn’t feel led to adopt. So, we carried on praying and crying out for a miracle for another few years without any answer from God.

Finally, at the age of 34, seeking only God’s inexplicable peace and trusting Him completely for His plan in my life, I fully resigned to the fact that I would never become a mother.

I also tearfully told my own mother that she would never become a grandmother.

Although it shattered my heart initially, I gradually healed day by day with God’s grace and felt at peace about it.

Then, something completely unexpected happened. I got my period. And nearly 45 days later, I got another one followed by another one, a few weeks later. There was no logical explanation for it apart from God’s perfect timing! Then it stopped, and I found myself feeling incredibly sick in October of that year. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment and found out that I was eight weeks pregnant!

My heart rejoiced so loudly I could hardly believe it was true as I cried tears of joy! I’ll never forget that moment in which I told my mother that she was going to become a grandma! She hugged me tightly as we both cried the happiest tears ever while praising Jesus aloud and thanking Him for this unexpected miracle.

In June of 2015, I gave birth to our healthy precious son whom we named Alexander…just as we had planned nearly 13 years prior. He was and is our own little miracle baby!

But God wasn’t finished showing how miraculous He is.

Nearly two years later, I find myself expecting again…this time with a girl! God is so incredibly good and He makes all things beautiful in His time. If we fully trust in Him, He ALWAYS shows Himself to be faithful. Never give up hope when life throws “impossibilities” because with Him, NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE!


Thank you Bonnie for sharing this beautiful testimony of what God has done! And we rejoice with you over your son Alexander, and your coming baby girl!

And we also find encouragement to keep hoping in Him, even when there seems to be no hope from our bodies, or from the doctors. Like you said, “Nothing is impossible” with God.


If you would like to share your testimony of how God has healed your womb, or how He has healed, or is healing your soul (whether or not you have a baby) please email me at [email protected] and check out the writer’s guidelines at “Want To Share Your Testimony?” I feature a Testimony each Tuesday, you can also subscribe with your email address, or follow along on my Facebook Page

Love, Rebekah

 

 

Kay’s Testimony: Miracle After Miscarriages

“I would like to share my experience hoping that I could give hope to someone else. And to remind each and everyone’s heart that truly nothing is impossible with God.

Let me start by saying that God blessed me with a beautiful baby girl whom I easily conceived with no problems at all. She was truly a blessing. So, I never thought that giving her a sibling would be a challenge–since I was convinced that I could easily get pregnant.

After a while, I got pregnant and it was unplanned but nevertheless we were so happy! However, unexpectedly, it turned out to be a blighted ovum. We were sad but never thought it would happen again, since they said a blighted ovum is normal.

So after a while, we decided to try again. Soon, we got a positive pregnancy test. We were so happy, but after a week or two, we found out it was just a chemical pregnancy.

I was starting to get anxious and depressed.

We opted to do fertility workups, and another chemical pregnancy happened, then another blighted ovum to which another chemical pregnancy followed again. I was so depressed and anxious, but it was at this period of recurrent miscarriages that I remembered God again.

I was closer to Him and our relationship deepened. We decided to let go and rest for a while.

I was always holding to the word of the Lord, that His plans are for us to prosper and not to harm us to give us hope and a future. (Jeriemiah 29:11) But to our surprise, I got another positive pregnancy test. I was scared, yet hopeful at that time. I was traumatized from my past recurrent miscarriages. But with God’s grace after 5 miscarriages this one was the time were I was able to hear the beautiful heartbeat that i had been praying and dreaming for. Im currently 32 weeks now and everything is going well.

So I want people to know my story, hoping that I could give hope and remind all of you out there that nothing is impossible with our God. He forgives all our sins and heals all our diseases. I give Him all the glory for everything that I have.

—Kay


Thank you Kay for sharing your story of loss and heartache, but also your hope in God and the miracle He gave you. I love that you “remembered God,” in the midst of all of it, and I pray we can all be inspired to “remember God,” and put our trust in Him–no matter what we’re going through. We celebrate this new life within you and pray God gives you a healthy and beautiful delivery to this special baby coming very soon!

If you have a testimony of a healed womb, or a healed soul that you would like to share here on Testimony Tuesdays at Barren to Beautiful, email me at [email protected] ! To check out the writer’s guidelines see my page, “Want To Share Your Testimony?”

The Beauty Of Right Now

One day there won’t be anymore smudges on my windows. I won’t trip over toys in the hallway. Or in the shower. Everything will be in perfect order.

I know this because when I go visit my parents house, it’s clean. Freshly vacuumed, and furniture polished. Everything is as it should be.

And I think, “Someday, my house will be clean.”

But you know what? In that day, I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss them. Being little.

I will look out my unsmudged windows and cry for the fingerprints that once marked them. For the little girl who once stared out of them and dreamed.

For the baby boy who held me hostage to the couch, because he wanted to nurse 23 hours out of the day, and whose big blue eyes would lock with mine while he did, and nearly take my breath away.

And I will ache for a day…exactly like today. All messy and undone.

Someday I won’t wake to crying in the night. I will have eight hours of glorious, undisturbed sleep, every night. (If I want it.)

But, I won’t want it then. I’ll somehow want this.

I’ll want the nights back when the baby woke me up with his cries, and my daughter crawled in between the safety of our warm bodies to forget her nightmares. And remember her dreams.

Someday I will have time. Time to write. Time to shop. Time to do whatever I want. Too much time. I won’t have a baby boy nursing at my breast, or a toddler trying to hug (and kiss) that baby boy while he is nursing at my breast, because, “He’s so cute, Mom,” she says over and over again. And we won’t be piled on top of each other, into that one spot on the couch. (Because everyone knows when you love someone, you should sit on top of them.)

Someday I will cook dinner in peace. I won’t be tripping over my 4-year-old who steps exactly where I step, right before I step there. And I won’t have a baby boy strapped to my chest while I try to do the dishes and bounce him to sleep at the same time.

Someday…they won’t be strapped to my chest. They’ll just be strapped to my heart. I will wash the dishes and stare out the window, hating how quiet it is. Hating how easy it is. Hating how clean it is.

And all I will have are these memories.

Of us all piled together. Of me not having an inch of personal space. Of not getting a chance to shower, and instead getting showered in spit-up, and high-arcing pee during diaper changes.

And I will miss it. I will miss them–just like this.

I will miss them being little. 

And I don’t know why my daughter pretends she’s a mermaid named Elsa in the bathtub, or why she drenches the floor with her splash-kicks–except that, she’s little. And this is her world right now.

And I don’t know why my baby boy wants me all the time, or why he screams when I put him in his car seat, or why he wakes up the moment anything remotely romantic happens between me and his dad. But he does. And he’s little. And this is our world right now.

And I’m going to miss it.

The other day my husband popped in for lunch. I was not expecting him, and the house was a disaster. Clothes were in heaps in the living room, the kitchen wasn’t tidied. My hair was in a giant messy bun, and I had no make-up on. My son was asleep in my arms (in our usual spot on the couch), and my daughter was laying on the floor looking at her books.

“Hi,” I said, with a smile.

I knew what it probably looked like. I knew it looked like I accomplished nothing. I knew it looked like I didn’t care. And…I was about to apologize to him. I was about to say, “I’m sorry…” For the house. For my hair.

But before the words came out, I noticed something.

Smudges on the windows.

Smudges because she had been standing there hoping he would come. Watching for his car. And it hit me like a ton of bricks: someday we won’t have smudges on the windows.

And in that moment, there was just something about the way her blonde hair fell into her face as she lay on the floor and looked at her books. And there was something about the way my son was laying, so comfortably in my arms, like he had melted into me–and suddenly the words, “I’m sorry,” didn’t seem to make sense any more.

And instead I said, “I have a beautiful, beautiful life.”

And I meant it.

Tears formed in my eyes. Because just for a second, I saw it. It was just a glimpse, but I saw it. The beauty of right now.

Right now.

I have a beautiful, beautiful life. 

And I’m writing this, so I remember.

And I’m writing this, so you remember. And so you don’t forget. Wherever you’re at today. Whatever you accomplished. Or didn’t accomplish. However clean or messy your house is, don’t let Satan steal this one glorious truth from you:

I have a beautiful, beautiful life. 

Right now. 

Today. 

And these days often feel long.

But someday, they will feel short.

So very short, the time that our kids were little.

And we will all long for it back. This time. With them.

It’s like a breeze. Like the wind.

You can’t take a picture of the wind. You can’t keep it. You can’t capture it. And you can’t take it with you.

You can only feel it while it is blowing.

And it’s blowing now. 

So turn towards it, and let it blow. Turn towards it and just…feel it. Let your hair fly and get tangled in it. Because someday, there won’t be any more smudges on the windows. And you’ll long just to feel it again, this wind,

their breath on your skin.

It’s blowing now. 

 


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“Am I Enough?”

Dear Baby Boy,

baby boy

Dear Baby Boy,

I should be sleeping now, but I can’t. It’s 5:04 a.m. and I’m wide awake–dreaming of you, here in the dark, as your Daddy sleeps next to me.

I look through our door and see your room. Your crib ready…for you.  And I miss you baby boy.

I don’t know how I can miss someone I’ve never met?

But my heart longs for you, as I lay here.

I want to see your face. I want to touch your skin.

I want to hold you in my arms, that ache for you now.

Warm tears sting my eyes as I imagine holding you. As I lay here in waiting and wonder…

How much longer, till you come?

I move from my bed to the living room couch. And it’s still dark out through the windows. And I wait for you, like a watchman waits for dawn. For those first pierces of light.

How can you be so close, and yet feel so far away?

How can you be right here, inside me–and still not close enough?

I am ready to hold you. And let you hold,

all of my heart. 

Baby Boy, what is your name?

You are like a secret wrapped within me. A mystery, yet to be unfolded. A sacred gift, still in paper.

No eye has ever truly seen you.

Except God.

God, who spoke your name while I was in the barren place.

God, who formed you inside me.

God, who breathed His life into your lungs.

God, who has done this wonder, in the secret  place.

I long to hear what He hears. When you cry.

I long to see what He sees.

To see this masterpiece He has made.

The masterpiece of you. 

Come soon, baby boy.

I’m saving you a spot, right here in my arms. Right here,

in my heart.

And I hear this song in my spirit, and I think of you,

“Baby, you’re almost home now. Please don’t quit now.

Baby, you’re almost home now, to me.”

It’s still dark out, and I wait to hold you on my chest. To feel your heart, beat against mine. To rub your smooth back with my hands, as you rest on me.

And I’ll take in, as my own oxygen, the rising and falling of your each and every breath.

Baby, you’re almost home now. Please don’t quit now.

Baby you’re almost home now, to me.

Come, be with us.

We are all waiting and longing for you.

Until you come…

I will wait here in the dark for you.

I will wait for the sun.

For my son. 

To rise. 

 

Love,

           Mom

 


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