Pictured above is the post-it note that my 7 year old niece wrote the day I called home.
Becoming a Missionary Mom, Part 3
They were the calls that changed our family. I had just found out I was pregnant after trying for 9 years. Our families and close friends had prayed for us, grieved with us and hoped for us. We tried to wait until after seeing a doctor to confirm the pregnancy, but we just couldn’t. This was their journey, too, and we couldn’t wait a moment longer to tell them the incredible news.
I was experiencing some troubling symptoms, and since Mike’s dad is a doctor, we wanted to talk with him first to get some reassurance that everything was ok. We were up late that night in order to accommodate the 8 hour time difference between East Africa and Eastern USA, but our excitement kept us wide awake. We dialed my in-law’s home number first. It rang and rang and rang. When the answering machine picked up I looked at Mike with disappointment on my face and wondered what he was going to say. He made some generic comment about having a medical question and promised that we’d try to call again later.
Would it be ok for us to call Dad at work? With a busy schedule at the Family Practice office, would he be able to take our call? Would he mind his day being interrupted? Surely he wouldn’t mind for something like this…
He picked up after just a few rings and was surprised to hear us on the other end. We exchanged some pleasantries but I was itching to get to the good stuff. Finally, Mike said something like, “we have some medical questions for you, but first you should probably know that Heather is pregnant.” I don’t remember what Dad’s response was, but I remember hearing the joy and the tears in his voice. I don’t think he minded at all that his workday was interrupted.
Dad told us that Mom was out shopping and she would love to hear the news straight from us, so we called her next. The phone rang and rang and rang and we thought we were going to have to leave another message. Just as we were expecting her voice mail to kick in, she answered. “I’m sorry it took me so long to answer the phone. It was at the bottom of my purse and I’m in the dressing room at Kohl’s.” We laughed together and asked if she wanted a few minutes to get dressed. We’d be happy to call her back in a few minutes. She assured us that it was a fine time to talk and asked how we were doing.
“Well, Mom. Heather is pregnant.”
A moment of dead silence was followed by:
“Michael. Are you serious? Michael. You better not be joking with me. Michael, are you joking me? Are you being serious? MICHAEL!”
With a smile in his voice he repeated the words he had been yearning to say for all those years.
“Yes, Mom. Heather is pregnant.”
“Oh My Word! I can’t believe it! Praise the Lord! PRAISE THE LORD!”
We laughed as we pictured other patrons at Kohl’s hearing a woman in the dressing room laughing and crying and shouting praises.
We didn’t know until then that Mom and Dad had completed a 3-week Daniel Fast in early January and had been praying specifically that Mike and I would be able to have a baby. I got pregnant just a few weeks later.
Praise the Lord, indeed.
We called my mom and dad next. Once again, it felt like we waited forever before my mom picked up. I nonchalantly asked if Dad was home too. No, he’s at a meeting at church. Ugh. But my 7 year old niece was there. Mom put us on speakerphone so my niece could talk with us too. The laughter and excitement and 7 year old squeals that followed delighted my soul. My mom sounded contemplative and teary. She peppered me with questions. Over and over again we marveled at the miracle that I carried.
Praise the Lord.
When my dad got home a few hours later my mom told him there was a message on the answering machine for him. He was busy putting something in the kitchen cabinet under the phone when my voice rang through and told him he was going to have another grandbaby. He jolted so violently in surprise that he hit his head on inside of the kitchen cabinet. They kept that message on the machine for months as a constant reminder of God’s goodness.
Praise the Lord, indeed.
The post-it that my niece wrote amidst the squeals of delight still hangs on my mom’s 2010 calendar.
Telling our family and friends was quite a different experience than telling our Tanzanian colleagues. Read Whisper it from the Mountaintops to catch a glimpse of how we tried to be culturally appropriate when sharing the news in our local context.
Post by Heather Webb