As quickly as the words flashed across the screen, doubt evaporated. More than ten years had passed since I’d bought an at-home pregnancy test and I never imagined I’d be experiencing the nervous wait again, much less at thirty-nine.
Like a lightening bolt, the previous night’s dream streaked through my mind.
“Oh, it’s okay sweet baby. Don’t cry.”
Tears welled in the two little eyes of the adorable baby I could only assume was my own. As I held her in my arms, she started to cry but I overflowed with pure joy. A premature birth, a year long hospitalization, and a deadly illness ten years earlier had stolen these sweet moments with my twin sons. The sharpness of those memories cut deep and like a sponge I soaked in this moment with my new daughter.
The dream ended as I woke and I rolled over to share it with my husband.
“Lets go see,” he said handing me the unopened box of tests.
We knew what a miracle this baby would have to be given the obvious success of my husbands vasectomy ten years ago. Together we glanced at the screen as the shocking word appeared.
Fear and excitement could be felt in our embrace.
I’m thirty-nine. Is this really happening?
Lunch with my lifelong friend later in the day soothed my soul and stirred my imagination.
“Do you think I’m really pregnant?”
“You had a positive pregnancy test. You’re pregnant!”
“Oh Callie,” she continued, “I’m so happy for you to get to go back through this time and treasure what you lost.”
With eyes wide open, I dreamed again. She was right. The idea of getting a do over in this area seemed so sweet.
“Do you think it’s multiples again?” I asked my friend.
Giggles, tears, and more dreaming continued throughout our extended meal.
“If God would allow me to experience this again I would be so grateful.”
My emotions were convinced far before my heart was and history proved that to be a dangerous predicament. During quiet time the next morning I asked God to settle the matter.
“Is it true Abba,” I asked as I rubbed my belly in anticipation. I trusted him to show me.
The sign above the parking spot at the doctors office read, reserved for expectant mothers, but I pulled in anyway confident I belonged. I snapped a quick picture and sent a text to my husband.
As if my emotions weren’t already being toyed with, the urine test at the doctors office was negative. Tears followed the uncontrollable quiver I fought with my chin to hide.
“I’m sorry, I know this can be difficult. I’m going to draw some labs so we’ll know for sure,” the doctor told me. “I’ll call you tomorrow with the results.”
The call came the following morning. Two little letters carried so much power. Although the vasectomy was our choice ten years ago, a large part of my heart longed to be part of the minority who become pregnant despite the procedure. Not an oops baby because I don’t believe with God there is ever an oops.
“What about the positive result I got at home?” I asked the doctor.
“It was just a false positive.”
I’ve contemplated those two words since last Wednesday when I got the results. Have you ever had your own false positive? Perhaps it wasn’t a pregnancy test. Maybe it was a dream, an event, or even a person in your life. The reality so far from your positive expectations?
Dear one, God is as near you in the disappointment as he was in the expectation. Please, turn towards him and be held when life doesn’t turn out like you expect or when it veers off the beaten path. Maybe the dream was from him but the time is not yet. Maybe the time is right but the means are different than you expected. Maybe the person is still the right person but there are many broken areas he is working to expose so he can heal you.
Whatever your own false positive, please trust him. Trust his process even when it’s confusing.
Today beloved, I join you.