Today was a day that I tried to be prepared for anything. Let me tell you, I am quite sure I was not at all prepared for what God was going to do in me today. As many of you know, I have been anxiously counting down to my first pre-natal visit (which was today...). To me, it always seems to be the "reality check" of carrying another human being within me. After three pregnancies, you might think it becomes old hat, but not at all for me. So, I love the first visit when the doctor or nurse practitioner gets out their little "heartbeat finder" and the amazing sound of the fastest little heartbeat comes through the speaker.
On my drive to the Doctor's office, I decided to spend some time praying. I had a pretty incredible heaviness come over me, so I prayed. For those of you who don't know this, twins run in both Richard's and my families. In addition to this being a surprise blessing pregnancy, I have had several people suggest I may be big enough to be carrying twins. So, for the last few weeks, I have been praying for the grace to be joyful if this is indeed the road God has willed for us to travel. So, on my ride in, I was praying for grace to handle whatever I was to find out today. I prayed to be joyful if it was twins, and I prayed that (believe it or not!) I would not be disappointed if it was only one. (I know, crazy, but... no, just crazy!) Then, I felt the intense need to pray for the Grace to handle finding out I had miscarried. Unfortunately, I do tend to view life on the more cynical/pessimistic side sometimes. But, as I said, I felt a heaviness in my heart, and I needed to ask my Savior to hold my hand through today.
About two hours later, I was getting ready for the "big moment". The nurse had me lay down on the table, and started trying to find my little one's heartbeat. For what felt like hours, although realistically it was only minutes, she tried to find that heartbeat. Nothing. For the first time in four pregnancies, no heartbeat could be found. She left the room to go see if the Sonographer had a few moments to squeeze me in, and she did-right then. So, she threw two robes on me, and walked me across the hallway to the ultrasound room. At first, I was very calm, but then, I had to wait for a few minutes. It was so quiet in that room, and being that I am a bit dramatic in thought, I had one too many moments to consider what actually might be the problem. So, I quickly texted Richard to let him know I was waiting for an ultrasound because no heartbeat could be found. Then, I heard the technician and my nurse whispering right outside the door. No, I could not hear what they were saying, but I knew they were whispering. Whispering always makes me a little bit nervous. Finally, after waiting for ten minutes (that began to feel a LOT longer!), she came in and entered everything into the three (yes, three!) different computers before she could start. I asked her if it was normal not to hear a heartbeat, and with her back to me, she said "yes." But, it was not normal for me! At long last, I laid down again, and she poured that goop all over my abdomen, and began searching for my baby's heartbeat. Almost instantly, she found baby, and said slowly, "There isn't a heartbeat." I said, "What?!? IS or IS NOT?!?" She said, "IS"!! Definitely "is." She then went on to tell me that the reason my nurse couldn't find a heartbeat was because my due date was wrong by one week. This meant I was early in my tenth week, not eleventh, which makes a huge difference in being able to hear the heartbeat.
Now, let me tell you what I went through in those 10-20 minutes between not hearing, and seeing my tiny child's heartbeat. In those few moments, I tried to prepare myself for the fact that I may have lost our baby. I tried not to "go there", but I did. It took all of my self-control not to cry, but I know I would have been unable to speak without crying. No longer did it matter that I had almost hoped for twins. No longer did it matter that a few people in my life had made comments about whether or not we should have had another child. I just wanted the baby inside of me to have LIFE. That was all that mattered. When I saw that heartbeat-a little "click" is what the heartbeat is described as right now, I felt like God had just given me back a child, and the joy that filled me was overwhelming. I could not wait to tell my husband that we were going to have one precious little baby, that his or her heartbeat was strong! And then, I received one more gift. My sonographer gave me two pictures. I was so surprised! I said, "You printed out pictures?" She answered, "Of course, you need pictures of the 'Little Bean' that gave you a scare!" What a heart for a mother! What a gift. I know, the Baby picture really does look like a bean-to you. But to me, that picture is a picture of an amazing gift and miracle the Lord gave to me today. It doesn't matter that his/her conception was ten weeks ago. TODAY, I was given the gift of life. I was given joy at the knowledge that I am carrying another Baby Truchon. Yes, I know, something may still go wrong with this pregnancy. But, TODAY, that is okay. For TODAY, I can rejoice that the Lord knew my fears of having another baby, made me face the reality that I may have lost that little one, only to show me how much I already love and cherish him/her. This Baby is NOT #4 in our home. This little one is little brother or little sister to NaomiRae, Timothy, and Titus-John. Beloved son or daughter to Richard and Tabitha.
So, I received an amazing gift today. The knowledge and ultimate understanding that I cannot wait for the healthy arrival of my child. As chaotic as the next few months will undoubtedly become, I cannot wait, and will always thank and praise the Lord for what He did for me and in me today.
Disclaimer: To those friends of mine who have lost a Baby (or Babies): I would NEVER even dare to think that I know the grief you have gone through upon the loss of your child. The very thought of losing my child scared me to my core, and that was only a thought, not a reality. Please know that I only described my thoughts to display what the Lord did in my heart.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
History
The one thing I really like about a blog, is that the only "Editor" I have to use as my filter, is the Lord. That being said, this blog is going to discuss His work in my life. Since Richard graduated as a History major, it seems fitting...
As many know, I was born into a Christian family. My dad, at that time, was a Senior Pastor of a small Fundamental Baptist church. I may be mistaken, but I believe that was actually the name of his Church (Fundamental Baptist). So, at the very tender age of three, I remember going into the kitchen, sitting on my daddy's knee, and telling him I wanted to pray to ask Jesus in my heart. It is my earliest memory, and although many of the surrounding details have faded, I do remember this moment. So, thus began my "walk" with the Lord. Not too many years later, I felt the intense desire to be a full-time missionary. It amazes me, looking back, and now looking into the eyes of my three-year-old daughter, how young I really was. None-the-less, I was sincere, and set my heart on becoming a missionary, and serving the Lord for the rest of my life.
Fast forward a few more years to the beginning of ugly adolescence. (Ugly for SO many reasons!) The summer I turned thirteen is remarkably etched into my brain. I felt so sick, so tired, and so thirsty all of the time. When I say tired, I mean I would go up TWO stairs (not flights of stairs, but stairs!), and would sit down and wonder if I would ever make it to the top. I remember sitting down one time, looking up at the flight of steps, and thinking it looked as tall as a mountain. (Honestly, no exaggeration!) Mom would send me downstairs to get laundry, I would sit on the couch and immediately fall asleep. That summer (August, I think), my parents took us on the biggest family vacation ever-Disneyland. Besides all of the awesome rides my young imagination could handle, I was thirsty. But, I was frugal. I remembered my dad saying how expensive the soda was, and I didn't want him to be upset by the amount of times I needed something to drink. I would save paper cups, fill them at the bubblers, and refill them at least ten times. I just didn't want my dad to have to spend any more money. FINALLY, in very late September, it all came to a climax. I went to school, and by the time first hour started, I felt like my chest was going to collapse. I felt like I was breathing with someone standing on my chest. My mom (who was acting Principle at the time), called my dad, and he came and picked me up. He sent me straight to bed-and thought I was asleep. As I heard him come up the stairs, I made sure to "wheeze" so that he would take me to the doctor. (I was never prone to lying, but I was absolutely desperate here.) So, he took me. The doctor checked for pneumonia and pleurisy. Nothing. As the doctor walked out of the room to check a medical book, I reminded my dad of something he said the night before, and told him to ask the doctor. In just two hours, I was an in-patient at Children's Hospital, with the brand new diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. It was such a shock, I didn't really know what to think. But, imagine my dismay when the nurses talked with me through the length of my stay, and they said that the only JOB I could not do was a foreign missionary, but "Who would want to do THAT anyway?!" Yes, that is in quotes, because I can remember exactly how and what she said, and where she was sitting when she said it. The other "issue" was that I may not be able to have children if I didn't take really good care of myself. A complete and total "Double whammy!"
At thirteen-years-old, I decided God hated me. Why? First, I was a heart-broken thirteen-year-old! Second, the only thing I had ever truly wanted to do was be a missionary. God took it away from me, meaning He didn't want me, which equaled He didn't love me. Third, nothing seemed stable to me at that time. I was the first teenager in our house. My raging mood swings, coupled with the loneliness I felt at God's "rejection" did not yield peace in our home. I honestly wanted to kill myself, but didn't want to die, because I knew I would go to heaven, and since God didn't love me, why would I want to go be with Him? I know, to an adult mind, this seems crazy. To a thirteen-year-old, it was entirely rational. Unfortunately, my mistaken thoughts on God did not end when I was thirteen. Every year, on the anniversary of my diagnosis (September 26), I would mourn what "would have been." I never complained about the shots (up to five a day), or the blood sugar checks (up to six a day), I felt totally abandoned and unloved by the One I wanted to serve.
Fast forward a few more years. As an entirely motivated and frugal young woman, I managed to graduate college in 3 1/2 years with my Bachelor's degree, with a change of majors in my second year. (I never took less than 20 credit hours.) College was NOT playtime for me. It was time for me to get a career. Needless to say, I have very few friends, and very few good memories of the "good ole college days." They were work. But, I did what I needed to do, and got done. The summer before my last semester, my dad asked me what I was going to do next. I said I wanted to go to Word of Life Hungary. I had heard about the school on a recent missions trip I had done, and wanted to go. My dad, used to my travel whims and desires basically said fine, but he was not going to help pay for it (as he had paid for half of my college), and that I had to work out every single detail. Within a week, I had applied and gotten insurance to cover my insulin and other medical needs for the next two years.
The next year, I was on a plane to Hungary. I cannot fit into one blog the amount of things I went through in that one year, but those details are not for today. On September 27th, I realized that for the first time in nine years, I had "missed" my anniversary. That began the true turning point in my life, but SO much more was yet to be learned! The next two years were just filled with me learning so much about the Lord through Bible School and being in an international situation, where isolation was really the name of my game. God took me to a place where there were no Americans in my class (first time in School history), so that I HAD to spend time with Him.
After returning to the States, I got married, and God blessed us with a family (if you haven't noticed, #2 on the "nurses were WRONG" list). For twelve YEARS, I worried that I may never be able to have children-I wish I would have been able to trust that God wanted what was best for me! God's work was not done. My biggest stumbling block in my relationship with the Lord was my fear of Him. Not the "good fear", either. The bad kind-waiting for Him to proverbially squash me the second I got out of line. And then the biggest "Aha" moment of my life. Family Camp 2010 brought a speaker that (sorry for anyone else who was there) was brought by God just for me. (Ok, I'm sure God used him for everyone, but for real-big deal for me!) One of Pastor Jordan's final sermons for the week had to do with the Discipline of the Lord. Thinking I had this one down pat, I attentively took notes and listened to his sermon. He even used one of my favorite verses, Hebrews 12:11. "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. After it is finished, however, it produces a harvest of peace and righteousness for those who have been trained by it." I honestly thought I knew what this verse meant. Unfortunately, (Dave James, please forgive me!), I had never truly looked at the CONTEXT of the verse. "Discipline", here, does not mean the "heavenly spanking," but the daily discipline of training as we run the Christian race. Pastor Jordan pointed out that God does not sin, therefore, He is NEVER out for vengeance. He is NOT "out to get me!" God, get this, LOVES ME!!! I know! Crazy, right?!? I probably should have known this before, but I didn't.
"Accepting" God's love for me has been a difficult road at times, but the love I have for Him has multiplied exponentially. How could I not love the Savior Who truly loves me? It is SO simple, yet ultimately profound. Yes, God cares about my actions, but He also knows I am going to sin. I'm human. He kinda knows that. Just like we know that our children are going to disobey, but love them unconditionally regardless of that. I am tearing up as I finish this long blog because it's true. God loves me NO MATTER WHAT! Just like He loves you-no matter what you've done, or where you've been-or what you are going to do!
His love truly IS amazing. It knows no bounds. Stop running, start turning back to Him, and love Him, because "He first loved us."
As many know, I was born into a Christian family. My dad, at that time, was a Senior Pastor of a small Fundamental Baptist church. I may be mistaken, but I believe that was actually the name of his Church (Fundamental Baptist). So, at the very tender age of three, I remember going into the kitchen, sitting on my daddy's knee, and telling him I wanted to pray to ask Jesus in my heart. It is my earliest memory, and although many of the surrounding details have faded, I do remember this moment. So, thus began my "walk" with the Lord. Not too many years later, I felt the intense desire to be a full-time missionary. It amazes me, looking back, and now looking into the eyes of my three-year-old daughter, how young I really was. None-the-less, I was sincere, and set my heart on becoming a missionary, and serving the Lord for the rest of my life.
Fast forward a few more years to the beginning of ugly adolescence. (Ugly for SO many reasons!) The summer I turned thirteen is remarkably etched into my brain. I felt so sick, so tired, and so thirsty all of the time. When I say tired, I mean I would go up TWO stairs (not flights of stairs, but stairs!), and would sit down and wonder if I would ever make it to the top. I remember sitting down one time, looking up at the flight of steps, and thinking it looked as tall as a mountain. (Honestly, no exaggeration!) Mom would send me downstairs to get laundry, I would sit on the couch and immediately fall asleep. That summer (August, I think), my parents took us on the biggest family vacation ever-Disneyland. Besides all of the awesome rides my young imagination could handle, I was thirsty. But, I was frugal. I remembered my dad saying how expensive the soda was, and I didn't want him to be upset by the amount of times I needed something to drink. I would save paper cups, fill them at the bubblers, and refill them at least ten times. I just didn't want my dad to have to spend any more money. FINALLY, in very late September, it all came to a climax. I went to school, and by the time first hour started, I felt like my chest was going to collapse. I felt like I was breathing with someone standing on my chest. My mom (who was acting Principle at the time), called my dad, and he came and picked me up. He sent me straight to bed-and thought I was asleep. As I heard him come up the stairs, I made sure to "wheeze" so that he would take me to the doctor. (I was never prone to lying, but I was absolutely desperate here.) So, he took me. The doctor checked for pneumonia and pleurisy. Nothing. As the doctor walked out of the room to check a medical book, I reminded my dad of something he said the night before, and told him to ask the doctor. In just two hours, I was an in-patient at Children's Hospital, with the brand new diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. It was such a shock, I didn't really know what to think. But, imagine my dismay when the nurses talked with me through the length of my stay, and they said that the only JOB I could not do was a foreign missionary, but "Who would want to do THAT anyway?!" Yes, that is in quotes, because I can remember exactly how and what she said, and where she was sitting when she said it. The other "issue" was that I may not be able to have children if I didn't take really good care of myself. A complete and total "Double whammy!"
At thirteen-years-old, I decided God hated me. Why? First, I was a heart-broken thirteen-year-old! Second, the only thing I had ever truly wanted to do was be a missionary. God took it away from me, meaning He didn't want me, which equaled He didn't love me. Third, nothing seemed stable to me at that time. I was the first teenager in our house. My raging mood swings, coupled with the loneliness I felt at God's "rejection" did not yield peace in our home. I honestly wanted to kill myself, but didn't want to die, because I knew I would go to heaven, and since God didn't love me, why would I want to go be with Him? I know, to an adult mind, this seems crazy. To a thirteen-year-old, it was entirely rational. Unfortunately, my mistaken thoughts on God did not end when I was thirteen. Every year, on the anniversary of my diagnosis (September 26), I would mourn what "would have been." I never complained about the shots (up to five a day), or the blood sugar checks (up to six a day), I felt totally abandoned and unloved by the One I wanted to serve.
Fast forward a few more years. As an entirely motivated and frugal young woman, I managed to graduate college in 3 1/2 years with my Bachelor's degree, with a change of majors in my second year. (I never took less than 20 credit hours.) College was NOT playtime for me. It was time for me to get a career. Needless to say, I have very few friends, and very few good memories of the "good ole college days." They were work. But, I did what I needed to do, and got done. The summer before my last semester, my dad asked me what I was going to do next. I said I wanted to go to Word of Life Hungary. I had heard about the school on a recent missions trip I had done, and wanted to go. My dad, used to my travel whims and desires basically said fine, but he was not going to help pay for it (as he had paid for half of my college), and that I had to work out every single detail. Within a week, I had applied and gotten insurance to cover my insulin and other medical needs for the next two years.
The next year, I was on a plane to Hungary. I cannot fit into one blog the amount of things I went through in that one year, but those details are not for today. On September 27th, I realized that for the first time in nine years, I had "missed" my anniversary. That began the true turning point in my life, but SO much more was yet to be learned! The next two years were just filled with me learning so much about the Lord through Bible School and being in an international situation, where isolation was really the name of my game. God took me to a place where there were no Americans in my class (first time in School history), so that I HAD to spend time with Him.
After returning to the States, I got married, and God blessed us with a family (if you haven't noticed, #2 on the "nurses were WRONG" list). For twelve YEARS, I worried that I may never be able to have children-I wish I would have been able to trust that God wanted what was best for me! God's work was not done. My biggest stumbling block in my relationship with the Lord was my fear of Him. Not the "good fear", either. The bad kind-waiting for Him to proverbially squash me the second I got out of line. And then the biggest "Aha" moment of my life. Family Camp 2010 brought a speaker that (sorry for anyone else who was there) was brought by God just for me. (Ok, I'm sure God used him for everyone, but for real-big deal for me!) One of Pastor Jordan's final sermons for the week had to do with the Discipline of the Lord. Thinking I had this one down pat, I attentively took notes and listened to his sermon. He even used one of my favorite verses, Hebrews 12:11. "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. After it is finished, however, it produces a harvest of peace and righteousness for those who have been trained by it." I honestly thought I knew what this verse meant. Unfortunately, (Dave James, please forgive me!), I had never truly looked at the CONTEXT of the verse. "Discipline", here, does not mean the "heavenly spanking," but the daily discipline of training as we run the Christian race. Pastor Jordan pointed out that God does not sin, therefore, He is NEVER out for vengeance. He is NOT "out to get me!" God, get this, LOVES ME!!! I know! Crazy, right?!? I probably should have known this before, but I didn't.
"Accepting" God's love for me has been a difficult road at times, but the love I have for Him has multiplied exponentially. How could I not love the Savior Who truly loves me? It is SO simple, yet ultimately profound. Yes, God cares about my actions, but He also knows I am going to sin. I'm human. He kinda knows that. Just like we know that our children are going to disobey, but love them unconditionally regardless of that. I am tearing up as I finish this long blog because it's true. God loves me NO MATTER WHAT! Just like He loves you-no matter what you've done, or where you've been-or what you are going to do!
His love truly IS amazing. It knows no bounds. Stop running, start turning back to Him, and love Him, because "He first loved us."
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