when the rules are broken

Sometimes I forget that I started this blog as my own personal journal, a way to document mine and Eric's life and all the lovely little adventures along the way. I start writing to "captivate my audience" or "appease the masses" forgetting that the masses are a minimal 71 followers, many of whom are friends and family. Not that it's a bad thing to write this way, I rather enjoy it. It gives me focus.

Today I am not writing for my 71 loyal followers (even though I do love you guys) or the other family and friends that read posts via facebook or just have me bookmarked. Today I am writing for me. Today I have things that I need to say, that I need to get off my mind, and I am not going to censor my writing to be more blogger-friendly.

I guess you can consider that a warning for the things you are about to read. It was hard for me to write. It was harder knowing my husband needed to read it first. Pushing "publish post" was the hardest, though, knowing how many people it just might reach.

For the last three years the book of my life has been colored with many adjectives. The most dominant one being infertile. I have been careful not to let this word define me, although I admit sometimes it has. But after this long, the word infertility and I have come to an understanding...an agreement of sorts. We have a set of rules that we play by now: I can not get pregnant, and that's ok. God brought me to a place where I was honestly and truly comfortable with being the girl who can not get pregnant.

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the LORD. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." - Isaiah 55:8-9

That meant I was able to rejoice with friends who announced their blessings.
I could go to the hospital and visit my friends who had just stepped into their new roles as Mom.
I could participate in and even throw baby showers, all the while quoting "rejoice with those who rejoice..." (Romans 12:15)
I could do life with minimal interruption from my adjective and adversary.

Then infertility threw me a curve ball, and broke the rules. You see, the definition of infertility is multi-faceted. According to Resolve:

"Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term after 12 months of trying to conceive."

On March 16, 2011 I woke up and took my temperature as I did every morning (to track my cycles). It was unusually high. I knew I must be getting sick and I wanted to be able to take some medicine in order to function at work that day. Thanks to my lovely PCOS diagnosis, I never really knew where I was in my cycle so I had to bite the bullet and take a pregnancy test. The first one in over a year. I had long since discovered that a pregnancy test wasn't like school tests, I always passed those with flying colors. I got up, dug out an expired dollar store test, took it, and promptly went back to bed confident of the one line that would be showing up in a few minutes.

Except two lines showed up.

I started shaking and decided I needed to bring out the big guns - a digital test. So I took it and no sooner had I gone to the kitchen to pour my coffee did I see the word we had been longing to see for three years.


I was pregnant. Me, the girl who had become completely complacent with never seeing that word. I fell on my face and cried out to God, thanking him over and over again for his grace and his mercy.

"Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies." - Psalm 26:5

You don't realize how much you want something until that thing becomes tangible again. I finally pulled myself together, called my doctors office and told them the news. The precious nurse cried on the phone with me  and offered me an appointment that day. I went, it was confirmed, it wasn't all a dream.

That evening I told my husband. My precious husband who had waited in heartache just as long as I had to become a father, it was the sweetest moment of my life to tell him he was one.

We told a few very close family members and friends, confident they would be praying for us and our baby. We decided to tell the world after the heartbeat was seen, which would be at 8 weeks. We lived two blissful weeks with the knowledge that God had blessed us with a pregnancy. We allowed ourselves to dream, a little.

Life as we knew it changed the day I called my doctor with the news that I had had some cramping a just a tiny bit of spotting. They wanted me to come in immediately. I was 6 weeks and 3 days. I was whisked into the ultrasound room, completely alone and unaware that anything but my baby would be on that screen.

After the longest two minutes of my life, I knew. I could tell by the nurse's expression and my doctor's resistance to saying anything that our baby was gone. On the screen was a beautifully formed gestational sac in exactly the right place...but it was empty.

Words were finally coming out of my doctors mouth about "...blighted ovum..." and "...beta doubling..." and "...could be too early..." but I knew. I had blood work done that day. And two days later it was repeated. And the day after that my doctor called to inform me that my beta had indeed doubled. In layman's terms - my hormones indicated everything was fine. The ultrasound was scheduled on Monday, exactly one week from the last one.

Monday comes, Eric is there this time, the ultrasound begins, our world collapses.

On the screen is an even larger, perfectly formed gestational sac, still void of our baby.

It's official. And now I have to learn how to live the multi-faceted definition of infertility. I am no longer the girl who couldn't get pregnant. I am the girl who couldn't get pregnant, miraculously did, and is now the mother of a heaven-born baby.

I don't know how to be that girl.

"The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD."- Job 1:21b

(to be continued...)


  1. Hugs Heather! Love and prayers!! Tina

  2. Still grieving with you, my friend.

  3. Get ready for some honesty of my own....
    I don't know you. I just stalk, as you put it. I've been around for a while and when I saw this post and started to read and figured out where it was going, I had one thought and one alone: SHIT. Not even kidding. Real Christian like, right? I'm so sorry, friend. I don't understand it. I don't understand life. It's unfair and at times, cruel. I won't trouble you wtih the platitudes that I know you know... God is good... Just know I'm praying and grieving with you. So sorry.

  4. I've known this post was coming and I'm STILL crying! Always here for you.

  5. oh, heather....my heart hurts for you right now...i cannot imagine how hard this is for you and eric. it just seems so cruel and unfair for you to have to go through this on top of everything else...but i'm with deb...i know God is good and i know His plan for your family will be revealed in time, even though this sucks right now. praying for you, friend.

  6. I know I didn't and still don't know you as well as I would love to but for some reason I knew this was happening. I knew something was wrong with you and I thought this could be it. I hate that I was right in my thinking or my feelings. But know that I just adore you and love you and that you are being and have been lifted up.

  7. Precious Heather,
    You are SO much more than that; although I DO know where you are coming from.
    You are the believer that loves and trusts her Lord (even when it is difficult). You are the wife that loves and adores her husband - unconditionally. You are the friend that your friends can confide in - knowing it will go no further. You are the sister Robin looks-up to. The aunt Caleb adores. The tutor your students learn from when no one else could explain it to them (because that is just how good you are!). You are the Sunday School teacher that the kids love-on. You are the precious young lady that has come into my life; and I am blessed, thankful, and forever grateful to God that you did. I love you Heather Evans!!
    To God be the glory! Great things He has done, is doing, and will continue to do!

    Bridget (mother of 1 birth, 6 adopted, and 4+ "heavenly" babies).

  8. So aptly written, Heather. You continue to be on my heart and in my prayers.

  9. (((Heather))) Weeping with you, sweet friend. I'm so sorry that you have to be going through this. Praying for you.

  10. crying and missing your sweet baby with you :( I think you are an incredible woman...praying for you as you grieve, and praying your story will touch many lives

  11. Oh Heather... My heart broke for you when reading this. You are being prayed for. I'm so sorry.

  12. Even after going through this with you two, it didn't make this post easier to read. I love you so much and you amaze me every single day. I am blessed to have you in my life. I will continue to pray for you and your sweet baby waiting for you in heaven. How wonderful to think that your sweet little one is with Jesus and never had to experience this world littered with sin and hate. God has something big working for you dear friend... something HUGE. I can't wait to see! You are my best friend and it is so hard to know that there is nothing I can do but pray. I want to do SO MUCH MORE... but for now, I just pray. I pray harder than you can even imagine. Can I just say, I am so proud of you for using your blog for you (for the first time in a long time). Continue to heal, continue to have hope, continue to trust Him. Everything is possible with God!

  13. I so wish you didn't have to learn to be that girl... Love you, Heather.

  14. i am so glad that this is not the end of God's plan for you. it is NOT the end...it was a gift. even if for just a few weeks, that baby was a gift - a well loved gift.

    The Lord's plan for you must be simply amazing, and it is JUST beginning.

  15. So thankful that God is with us... that we are not abandoned to grief.

    Thank you, friend, for allowing me to celebrate those days with you. To rejoice with you over the blessing God had placed in your womb. To continue to rejoice even though I don't understand.

    Thank you for sharing here - because the fastest way to rob the enemy of power is to allow God to be glorified. He can and will and IS bringing good things out of sorrow.

    We have not stopped praying for you. God is good.

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  17. I am so very sorry. God knows your pain, and He has a plan. I pray that you find comfort, and that you never have to be "that" girl again! I'm so very sorry for your loss.

  18. This gave me chills...and made me cry. I rejoiced with you when I heard the wonderful news, and still grieve your loss as I know you still are. Because I know what a loving God we serve, I know He has amazing plans for you and for Eric. As many times as I wish I could just take away your pain and give you a baby, I can't. I know it has to be in His perfect timing. Never let go of your hope. Nothing is impossible with our God. You are so strong and so beautiful and you inspire me and so many. I love you so much dear friend. Praying for you always.

  19. I think I put off reading this because...well, you understand. In the body of Christ...I DO believe because of the Spirit, we are able to hurt & mourn with those who hurt & mourn. Christ will continue to minister to you - not only through HIS words but through brothers & sisters who love you deeply...because it's HIS love. Thankful that God has allowed us to walk this path of life together. HE is your healer. I love you my precious friend.

  20. Wow, I am so very sorry to hear of this devastation- my heart is aching. Your love and continued faith in God is breathtaking, especially through the loss you are going through. You say you don't know how to be "that" person...just be you, because you are beautiful, courageous, and a sister-in-Christ to all of us who follow you. Continue being "real". Blessings will come from this- to you and to your readers. Praying for you.

  21. Girl,
    I'm sorry I missed this post a few days ago. All I can say is that I fully understand how you feel (as much as another person can). Our little one was a blighted ovum too. I used to be the girl that couldn't get pregnant, and then we did. I have become "that girl" and some things have changed, others have not. There are days that I still take solace in "well, we did get pregnant" and there are other days that it almost makes it worse. What are we doing wrong now, then?
    I don't know, Heather. I really don't.
    I'm so sorry, dear friend. You are in my prayers so often.

  22. Heather, I wrote and wrote and wrote on this comment post, and then deleted it. Everything that was written above was beautiful and perfect. Just know that I love you and I pray for you. You are a precious precious gift.

  23. My heart breaks for you both. I know how much that meant to you both. I know the shock of miscarriage. I know how it affects you. Especially when you hadn't told anyone. In our case we chose not to tell anyone except those that needed to hear it.

    How do you mourn something that you barely had? How do you mourn someone you've never met? How do you mourn someone you never saw or touched or heard? But that you loved so fiercely? How do you mourn when people have no clue what happened & it's none of their business?

    You mourn hard. And a lot. And for a long time.

    I'm so sorry. You're in my prayers and will continue to be.

  24. I love you and continue to pray for you. Thank you for sharing your story.


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