September 23rd was my youngest daughter's birthday. I knew her birthday was on Thursday. Unfortunately, I didn't know that it actually was Thursday until I glanced at the sonogram screen and saw 9/23/2010. It's fitting that an internal sonogram would jolt my memory because the only other time I have had to have one of these totally humiliating tests was when I was pregnant with her and she was trying to be born on a day other than her due date!
She is my child of promise. I had suffered two miscarriages between her and my oldest daughter. On the day that I was heading down to the Crisis Pregnancy Center to have my free pregnancy test, I read a scripture from 2 Samuel 22:20-26 that said "Today I have rewarded you, according to your righteousness, according to the cleanness of your hands." I wondered about that verse, but as soon as I heard "you're pregnant" the Spirit of the Lord quickened my spirit. No, I didn't break out in song like the children of Israel after the Egyptian army drowned in the red sea, or Mary when she visited John the Baptist's mother, but I got a knowing that told me that I would not lose this child.
A lady in our church was a midwife and insisted that I get my hormone levels checked. We discovered that I did not have enough progesterone to support a pregnancy. I shared with her what God had shared with me and told her that I really wanted to trust the Lord to keep this child, but wasn't sure if my faith level was there or not. So after praying together, we decided that I would take half the amount of progesterone recommended and put the rest in God's hands. The next time my levels were checked, there was exactly 1.5 times the amount of progesterone in my system to support a pregnancy.
In my second trimester, I started to spot. They did a sonogram. My placenta had started detaching from my uterine wall. There was nothing they could do. Bed rest would not help. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen. So I traveled halfway across the country to a Pastor's conference in a small cow town. While there, I began to bleed--badly. My hubby rushed to me to the small cow town hospital in the early morning. I laid in the hospital for over an hour while they tried to locate a doctor to come to the hospital--scary. While I was waiting, they informed me that they didn't deliver babies there--comforting. The doctor arrived and informed me that there was a problem with the baby-duh! So they put me in an ambulance and took me to a hospital where there was a doctor on the premises who does deliver babies. They examined me and told me I had miscarried. There was no heart beat.
I've only had the experience of hearing two opposite reports about the same situation from totally reliable sources several times in my life but in each case, it was a defining moment. And it was at that moment that I took over. Leaning up on one elbow, I assertively stuck my finger in the doctor's face and informed him that I didn't care what he said, I was having the baby on the day it due.
It was then that I experienced my first internal sonogram, a relatively new kind of procedure at that time. The doctor gave it to me to prove to me that I was no longer pregnant. Seventeen and a half years later, on my daughter's original due date, it is still evident that God was right and the doctor was wrong. It hasn't caused me to disrespect doctors at all. It has definitely caused me to appreciate God more.