Curly-Headed Dreams

Curly-Headed Dreams

I bet you didn’t know dreams are curly-headed. Or maybe just mine come that way? My dream, is now a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, curly headed little girl. For me, EVERY time I look at my daughter, I’m reminded of God’s goodness and love. Her birth, her existence, is my constant indicator that God LOVES ME; that He HEARS ME, and not just in the general sense, but that He hears and cares about our heart’s desires.


Prior to my daughter being born, I was blessed to become a mom to my precious son. When our son was a little over two, I began to get that ache in my heart for another child. I could almost see my blue-eyed, blonde-headed little girl. I’d love to say that when I first broached the subject with my husband he was happy to expand our family and that the idea of adding another child immediately brought joy to his heart, but it didn’t. The wedge I felt as I longed for another child and he didn’t grew to resentment while I waited and the distance between us seemed infinite.


It was over a year of waiting as I allowed anger and resentment to build in my heart. Then one March as I was driving I felt God calling me to lay down my desire for a baby Trust in the Lord with ALL your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to HIm, and He will make your paths straight.and be willing to sacrifice it like Abraham did with Isaac. As God spoke to my heart, I realized that I had allowed this longing to divide us, and I had a choice to make. I could sacrifice my selfish desire for another child and give the dream to God, or I could continue down this road and risk my marriage ending in divorce because of the bitterness and anger I was harboring


With tears streaming down my face, I laid my dream on the proverbial altar and left it with God. In fairytales, this is when the heroine does a 180⁰ and the story ends with her running back home into the loving arms of her husband and the two rekindle the marriage and life is perfect once more. Unfortunately, my life was not quite so picturesque. To bury my heartache, instead of giving it to God and allowing Him to heal my heartache, I emotionally ran away and physically turned to work. I volunteered for any and everything that had me on the road and away from home so I didn’t have to confront my emptiness and heartache.


Two months later, I had just returned home after being gone for several weeks on a week assignment and learned I was pregnant. How I wish I could tell you I had tears of joy after learning I was FINALLY pregnant. But I didn’t. I was angry. I felt betrayed. I couldn’t believe God would do this to me. Here I had spent the last few months burying my dream, only to find out I was pregnant. It seemed so cruel. I was angry at God. I WANTED to love this baby whom I’d prayed and cried over for so long, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t emotionally connect and care for this life that was depending on me.


Anger and numbness simultaneously enveloped me. As is customary, we had our second doctor’s visit-ironically, on our 13th wedding anniversary. To say that either of us was looking forward to celebrating it, would be an understatement. If anything, I think we both were looking for any excuse to get through the day and away from the other as quickly as possible. We sat quietly in the waiting room, without talking and waited for the nurse to call us back.


It wasn’t a long wait before I was lying on my back listening for the distinctive sounds of a baby’s heartbeat while in utero. As the cold wand moved across my stomach, I heard only the shushing of the machine. I watched the look on my doctor’s face and knew when he stopped moving the wand around there was no heartbeat because my baby was dead. Minutes later, my fear was confirmed, and I was scheduled for my first D&C two days later.


Numbly, I walked back to my car. Chris wanted to talk, to hold process what was going on together, but I couldn’t look at him. I just felt guilt-that this baby had been my Isaac. That my hate and my choices had led us here. That somehow this death was because of me.


Three years later, I still don’t know WHY that baby died or what caused it to stop growing. I DO know that God used it to change something in me. That through this death, I began to heal. With the death of this baby, my anger and animosity died. I finally placed our family in God’s hands and began to do the necessary work of repairing and healing my family. To slowly begin to bridge the canyon in my marriage.


While my second baby died in June, we were blessed with the news of our last child that October. Not only is God so good as to redeem our lost child, but He blessed us with a daughter who was born almost exactly one year from the day we learned our second child had died-June 23.
Ella, which means oath of God, is my constant reminder of God’s redeeming love. No matter how long a dream appears dead, God can still revive it. She’s my reminder that God does love me and that He hears me.


No matter how ‘dead’ your dream seems to be, keep trusting God. If we had not lost the second child, and I had not let go of my anger and resentment, I do not think my marriage would’ve survived nor would I have started my ministry. It wasn’t until I finally let God have my curly-headed dream that my heart began to heal, and I was ready for God to move.


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