The Doctor said it was IMPOSSIBLE

“It will be impossible for you to get pregnant,” she said, the doctor with the supercilious mouth stared back at me while I sat on the crinkly thin paper on the table. The room smelled of alcohol wipes and the atmosphere was turning toxic.

A few weeks earlier, the ultrasound glared back at me, a confirmation of what I already felt and dreaded. While the woman doing the ultrasound didn’t want to say much, her face was sympathetic. “How big are they?” I asked, already seeing the physical evidence in black and white. Factual.

“They’re a lot bigger than six months ago.”

My heart dropped and as I got down from the table, the tears were already threatening to spill over.

Now, we were in a specialist’s office.

My mom sat in the guest seat in the small hospital room and tensed. I looked at the engagement ring on my finger as I mustered up some courage to ask more questions for answers I already knew. The severity of her voice began to sink in as she went through my chart and ultrasounds to confirm I had Endometriosis and the complex cysts on each ovary were growing fast since my last ultrasound 6 months prior.

“We already know, but can she take something that will make the cysts shrink?” my mom asked. She’s already been doing the research for weeks and was growing tired of the stoic woman.

“They won’t shrink. These types of cysts never go away,” the doctor retorted quickly and with irritation, “the only way is to have surgery. I have a good friend in Fairfax who can do it.”

“But we can try it can’t we?” my mom asked almost aggressively, not at all impressed by how the doctor kept pawning off invasive surgery to us since we walked in.

“You can try but like I said, these types of cysts don’t go away,” her impatience cracked through her voice.

After over half an hour going back and forth with the doctor about how it was impossible for me to get pregnant with the cysts and the condition, we walked out of the office with medicine in hand, turning our backs to the scowl on her face.  The finality in her voice deflated me and continued to sting. She couldn’t promise that during the surgery they wouldn’t remove everything – every chance of having a child – in order to remove the cysts.

That was May.

I remember the lowest point. Hunched over while sitting on the kitchen table in my small apartment, the grief of what the doctor said I couldn’t have began to knock me over. Ignoring all of the wedding save the dates on the table, I let it all go into rivets of tears and agony. Fear crept in and grabbed my heart, whispering “Never”, “You’ll never be a mother”, “Impossible.”

This was the opposite of what was placed in my heart at a women’s conference a few months before when I first looked at the ultrasound. I laid before the altar at church with the same fears latched onto heart with many other women needing prayer. God comforted me and my mom with His presence though the comfort was contradictory to the evidence. “I will be a mother”, “God’s report is bigger than the doctor’s report”, “I will trust in the Lord who is a healer and makes impossible possible.”

And yet I was here again, confronting the evidence with my faith.  

Six months later, I was all nerves. I had not had a cyst erupt as has happened in the past with an emergency room visit. Prayer surrounded me as I went in for another ultrasound – a check-up. As I sat in the car before going in, I prayed aloud. “God, no matter what the screen says, I will praise you. I will trust in you. I will keep hold of your promises to me through your Word.”

I laid on the same table as I had done so many times. The first time when I was diagnosed, the second when they said it was worse, and the third when they said “impossible”. The same blonde woman greeted me and the image was on the screen. I held my breath.

“That’s weird,” she said quizzically.

“Are they smaller?” I hoped.

“Yes, they’re less than half their size since last time.”

My heart skipped, and when I returned to the car, I cried stormily with great relief. God had healed what was considered impossible. How great was our God! I called and texted everyone – and the tears flowed.

As much relief as I had, there was still a lingering feeling since I still had Endometriosis. What if it wasn’t enough? But I tried to hold on tight.

I remember sitting with Kevin, his arm around me as I battled again, and I looked up and asked him what my heart truly needed to know. Our wedding was only months away, a wait of 6 years, but I needed to hear it.

“If I can’t have children, do you still want to get married?” 

Again, I couldn’t control the sobs. I needed to hear his answer, but the seconds seemed to stretch. “You’re crazy,” he smiled, as if I had asked something trivial. “You’re going to be able to have children. We’ve been praying for that and believing it, and if you can’t, we’ll just adopt a whole basketball team.” We cried and laughed together, in the same way we cry and laugh now.

Exactly a year from the ultrasound that told us in black and white that I was infertile, a pregnancy test announced God’s goodness. We were pregnant.

A few weeks later, almost a year from the appointment when the doctor said it was impossible, I laid on a table holding my husband’s hand and watched another screen in black and white flutter with the heartbeat of our Little One.

This is the story I’ve been bursting to tell. The story of how our Little One growing inside my tummy is a miracle.

God is not defined by the physical. The physical doesn’t change God. God changes the physical according to His Word and His Will.  


2 thoughts on “The Doctor said it was IMPOSSIBLE

  1. Absolutely beautiful. Having suffered from similar doubts I remembered in my heart what He told you to tell me years before our kiddo was born. Yes, beyond all speculation that my husband’s family has tons of boys, I believed she would be a girl… but most of all, that she would even be possible! 😀 You are going to love being a mother and I am so happy for you two.


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