Testimony Time: God of the Valley

What has God done for you?

The train was quieter than usual. It was rush-hour and the worker bees were packed in so tightly that it was hard to see where one person began and the other ended. I felt bad for those that had to stand in this sardine can. Hugging a stranger was awkward on any given day, but on a hot day in the summer of 2022, it was downright icky.

A man in a navy suit and a pink tie sat opposite me as he discussed the benefits of derivative trading. A student, without headphones, hovered over me, head bowed, hood raised while he listened to a song that I was unfamiliar with. Punk rock? Dance? Techno? I don’t quite remember. And then there was the brunette, yelling into her mobile at her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend about a dating site, a secret message, and half a dozen suspicious photos. But with all the noise that surrounded me, the carriage was eerily muted. At least it was to me. I could hear, but at the same time not. It was as if my ears had been damaged in a loud explosion and all I could make out were the muffled snippets of commuter’s conversations. I was in my own world, and I had been ever since I stepped onto the train; lost in an unforgiving sea of thoughts.

Another positive pregnancy test. Another episode of bleeding. Another miscarriage?

Barren woman. Good-for-nothing. Failure. The words sloshed around in my head, flooding every empty space in my mind until it was all I could hear. The self-inflicted attack was relentless. I hated myself and to be totally honest, I wasn’t that fond of God in that moment either. He had made me a promise. So why wasn’t he keeping it? It had already been two and half years.

2020, for most people, will forever be remembered as the year of covid. I however, remembered it as the year we began trying to conceive. Despite everything that was going on in the world, we had started out the year with hope and expectation. I look back on it now and laugh at how naïve I was. Tell God your plans and he laughs, right?

March 2020 was the first month we tried, but unfortunately nothing came of it. April, May, June… also nothing. But it was ok, because I knew that on average it took about four months to get pregnant. July, August, September… still nothing. Honestly, I was growing a little restless at this point but hope still had a seat at the table. October, November… Negative… Negative…but then December came around and low and behold, I got my first positive test! I was excited, joyous but mostly overwhelmed. I was finally going to be a mum.

My husband and I made plans to tell our relatives right away because we couldn’t contain ourselves. We had even considered ordering books online on ‘How to be a parent’, but sadly our happiness was short lived. The very next day I started to bleed heavily. My GP explained to me that I had experienced what was known as a chemical pregnancy.

We continued to try to conceive with no success and by early 2021 we had several doctor’s appointments lined up. Perhaps rather strangely, I was hoping that the doctors would find something wrong. If there was a cause, then surely there’d be a solution? But alas, there was no obvious cause. ‘Unexplained infertility’ they called it.

By the time March 2021 rolled around I was feeling rather dejected. My colleagues were having babies, my sister was having a baby. It seemed like everyone I knew was getting pregnant. Some of them weren’t even planned! Many times, I recited the Bible verse, 2 Chronicles 20:12, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” Then one day, on the 12th of March 2021 to be exact, the tide began to shift. That was the day I received the promise from God, although I didn’t realise it right away.

I had been working from home, as you did in the post-covid era, when a delivery arrived for me. I had ordered some work clothes from a popular retail store. I opened the package and hidden beneath all the dreary black and white trousers and pencil skirts was a tiny surprise waiting for me. A bright pink babysuit, size 0 to 3 months. Did I accidentally order this? Was my first thought. I checked the receipt. Nope, there was nothing on there about a babygrow. I contacted the company; they told me to keep it. I guess it wasn’t worth the hassle. At first, I was indignant. How dare some careless warehouse worker put this baby outfit in my package. Why did God let this happen? Did I need reminding that I was still childless? Did He not know how depressed I was about it, or was He deliberately trying to rub it in? After a while, I calmed down and the answer came to me. God was making me a promise. A promise of a baby girl.

“I will open rivers on the barren heights, and fountains in the middle of valleys.”

In mid-2022, after months of disappointment, anger and tears, my husband and I decided to try IVF. After the embryo transfer was complete, we met with this lovely nurse. To this day, I think of this encounter as miraculous. She offered us some words of wisdom. She said, “We at this hospital have done all we can to help you get pregnant, but there is only One who can give life. The big man upstairs. I will pray for you.” I don’t know what prompted her to say these words to us, but I believe it was a message from God.

The two-week wait was unbearable, fraught with worry and anxiety and after twelve days of waiting, I couldn’t wait any more. I took the test. It was positive! The pregnancy test line was dark red, and undeniable. We were pregnant! That night, we cautiously celebrated and allowed ourselves to feel the hope that had slowly waned over the years. But as it turned out, our caution was for good reason. The very next day, I started bleeding… again.

And that takes us back to where I started this story in 2022. Slumped against the torn seat of the 7.24am train heading to London Euston. The man in the pink tie was still trying to convince his client that forwards were the way to go and the girl with the ex-boyfriend had hung up and was silently fuming. I was fuming too. At God. A second moment of joy, followed by inexplicable pain. At that point, I didn’t even know if I was still pregnant. Unlikely though, given all the blood. But that’s the great thing about our God. He turns impossible to possible. The unlikely to certainty.

Twenty-five minutes to go until the train would be pulling up outside the bustling London station. My phone dinged. It was a notification from the Bible app. I rolled my eyes. That was not what I wanted to see. I wasn’t in the mood for another motivational verse telling me to be strong, faithful and patient, because I wasn’t feeling any of that. Not in that moment. But eventually, I decided to swallow my pride and I gave in. I read it. Luke 1:37, “For no word from God will ever fail.” I was immediately reminded of the promise God had made me two and half years ago when he presented me with the pink babysuit. My eyes drifted to the verse above, and I read on. “The one who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month.” I couldn’t believe what I was reading. The verse was about Elizabeth, but God was talking to me. I was the one unable to conceive and God was telling me that this pregnancy was viable and was destined to be successful.

I would like to say in that moment I was the perfect picture of faith and immediately believed, but the truth was, I was still uncertain. But I should have known what my God was capable of. In my darkest hour when all seemed lost, God did what only God can. He came from behind and scored the winning goal.

My daughter, Hannah, named appropriately, is now seven months old and thriving. On the day that I went into labour with her, I was playing the popular word game ‘Wordle,’ and the word of the day was ‘Birth.’ Freaky coincidence? To add another, guess what day I went into labour with her…12th of March 2023. Exactly two years to the day that I received the pink babygrow. Two years to the day that I received the promise. I had previously known God as the God of the Mountaintop, but now I knew him as the God of the Valley.