Finding Faith: Epilogue - The Prayer That Changed Everything
If you missed it, be sure to read Finding Faith, part 2: The Prayer That Changed Everything before this one!
The morning of Grandma’s wake, I was a mess, as you’d expect. I tried to bury my emotions in checking work emails, but it was more than emotions pulling me down. My stomach felt off. It wasn’t in knots or anything. It was just a tinge off. I don’t normally get stomach aches from anxiety or grief, so this was a new one for me.
Or was it?
I had felt this funny tinge exactly one other time in my life – when I was pregnant with our daughter.
Oh my gosh.
I felt pregnant.
I sat behind my computer holding back my grief, waiting to leave for the wake, but also thinking wait, what’s today’s date? Did I miss my period? No…it’s not supposed to come for another 5 days. Am I pregnant? How can I feel pregnant before I missed my period?
My husband walked into the kitchen and I just randomly blurted out “My stomach feels funny and I think I’m pregnant!” And then I think I cried. Not because I thought I was pregnant, but because my Grandma died.
It’s times like these I feel sorry for husbands. He had no idea what to do with me, so he just hugged me as I cried.
I ran upstairs and took a pregnancy test…negative. “Not Pregnant”
Liar.
I went back downstairs to my husband in the kitchen, waiting for me with big eyes, asking, “So what did the test say?”
“It was negative,” I responded. “But I still think I’m pregnant.”
I’m sure he thought I was a crazy person. But you don’t argue with a crazy person on the morning of their Grandma’s wake when they think they’re pregnant, so he simply said, “Oh, okay.” And we didn’t talk anymore about it.
With our 3-year-old daughter at day care, the two of us left for the funeral. We filed into the building, greeted our extended family, and said our final goodbyes to Grandma.
Afterwards, I walked over to visit with my now-widowed Grandpa. Technically, he’s my step-Grandpa whom my Grandma married later in life, but he’s all I’ve ever known as a Grandpa on my dad’s side of the family. He was in his 90s at that point, completely blind, and more or less confined to a wheelchair.
I gave him my condolences and he talked about how he would miss Grandma. I agreed. And then he asked me, “How are your kids, Erica?” (I think he meant kid. I only had one.)
He was old and losing it. I know that’s bad to say, but it was true. “Oh Grandpa, I just have Riley. She’s at school right now. She’s doing well, though,” I told him.
But Grandpa insisted, “No, you have a daughter and a son.”
It wasn’t the time or place to argue, nor did I have the emotional energy, so I just conceded to his old age, “Everyone’s doing well Grandpa. Thanks for asking.” I didn’t even think about that morning. My stomach was feeling fine by that point, and the emotions of the day had already pushed the pregnancy test out of my memory.
It would take at least another 5 days for us to get a positive pregnancy test and then another couple of months to find out that we were pregnant with a boy.
Turns out, Grandpa was right. I was pregnant with Grandma’s first great-grandson.
Be sure you subscribe below, so you don’t miss the next installment of Finding Faith.
Finding Faith, part 1: When Your Childhood Church Misses the Mark
Finding Faith, part 2: The Prayer That Changed Everything
Finding Faith: Epilogue - The Prayer That Changed Everything
