Chapter seven- In which God sends a bird and I walk through every open door

In fourth grade I went through a bird phase. (right between my monkey and dog phase) I loved watching birds come to our many bird feeders I would make out of milk jugs. I remember sitting for hours with binoculars at my window and my bird book by my side. My dad would teach me all the names of the species and how to identify the sounds each would make. We would sit on the back porch after dinner in the summer and he would teach me how to call to the bob white and whippoorwill. It seemed like magic when they would call back when we would whistle to them.

And there was something about the colors. New Jersey has very brown and gray winters. With not a lot of snow, bare trees, and cloudy days it can be a dismal and depressing time of the year. But somehow the birds God would send our way were sun spots on dreary days. The bright yellow of the goldfinch and that peachy color right underneath the wings of the tufted titmouse. The crimson red of the male cardinal and the orangey-red part of the beak of his partner, the deep blue cerulean of the blue jay.

(Something tells me this may have been the reason I didn't have a lot of friends as a child. I may or may not have been a bit of a weirdo. Praise the Lord Justin didn't know me until I was 14!)

Then in the summer before I went to eighth grade, "Sister Act 2" came out. My sisters and I were obsessed with the movie. We got the soundtrack and would belt it out during car rides. My favorite song was "His Eye is on the Sparrow," and I sang it for my eighth grade graduation.

When Justin and I finally got our house, I couldn't wait to put up bird feeders, and Justin got me a bird bath for mother's day during my second pregnancy. (Something I had wanted for a while.)

All this to say I like birds. (Which would somewhat explain why I was watching birds and prayed my "cardinal prayer." Make sure to read part 4.)

In January of 2009 I took another pregnancy test and it was positive. Baby number 5. At the time doctors told me that I had a 40% chance of actually getting past the first trimester, and if I did, it would be a high risk pregnancy because of my condition, and there was a good chance I would be delivering early. That's dumb, I thought. If God wants this baby born, this baby has a 100% chance, and if He doesn't, it's 0%. I love how doctors think they know what they're talking about.

I called the fertility clinic (they monitor the pregnancy for the first 8 weeks) and they told me to come in for blood work. Results showed my hsg levels were good, and as they continued to take and test more blood, the numbers doubled every 48 hours. After a few weeks of my levels doubling, doubling and doubling again, I had my first ultrasound.

I hate ultrasounds. Let it be known.

"The baby should be 5 weeks along at this point," they said. As they were examining, I watched the black and white screen, looking for that flicker of a heartbeat and waiting for the "swoosh-swoosh-swoosh" sound. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I got that sick feeling in my stomach again. Not again, God. Please.

"There are two possibilities," the doctor spoke in a thick middle-eastern accent. "Either you are one week earlier than you think you are, or there is no baby. Come back next week for more bloodwork, and we'll see." Great options. I was never early. I could tell you the exact day I got pregnant. I wanted to punch him. He printed out a picture of my nothingness and handed it to me. Thanks a lot. Another reminder of how empty I am and how pregnant I'm not.

I was proud of myself that I choked down tears until I got out of the building. It was a cold, gray, dreary New Jersey winter day. It made sense that the sun wouldn't shine on a day like today. I buckled my seatbelt, threw the ultrasound picture in the glove compartment, and we pulled out of the parking lot. As we approached the end of the driveway, my eye caught a glimpse of color in my world of encroaching gray.

The thicket across the street was covered in bright red cardinals.

I felt God say, "If my eye is on the sparrow, how much more do I care for you?"

I pushed that silly prayer aside. It was the prayer that I prayed nine months ago. The picture showed nothing. No baby. I wasn't getting my hopes up.

I got my blood work done again on a Friday. The office said they would call Saturday morning to tell me my results. I could barely sleep that night and I held the phone in my hand all morning. I wasn't doing anything until they called. I wasn't going to eat, get dressed, or start my day until the phone rang. It was 1:00 and I looked at Justin, "Didn't they say they were only open in the morning on Saturdays?" "Yes," he said with sad eyes not wanting to disappoint me. I called about 7 times, hearing the recorded voice on the other side reading their office hours. It was closed. I figured they would have called if it was good news.

I got up from the couch and took a shower. I was in the bathroom for a long time, sobbing uncontrollably, the window fogged up from the cold stale air outside and the hot steam of the water that was running for longer than it should. "Why, God, do I have to do this again?" I prayed. Chuckling to myself I through my tears I said, "Hey God...do you want to send me a cardinal to show me the baby's going to be ok?"

I cleared a small circle of condensation off of the bathroom window with the sleeve of my bathrobe. As I peered through it I could see my birdbath. Just as I let the words leave my lips, a small brown female cardinal landed on it. "No God," I said,"not good enough. A bright red male. That's what I need to see." No sooner had I prayed those words that a male chased the female away and landed on the exact spot she was perched a moment ago.

Justin knocked on the door with the phone in his hand.

"Levels look good, Laura," they said. "Come in Monday for another ultrasound and you will be able to see your baby."

They were right. The ultrasound revealed two tiny flickering pixels on the screen. I finally knew that this was the one God was waiting to give us. "I'll keep walking through every open door until I finally become a mom," I told God.

Three months later after the ultrasound, after my first trimester was over, we got our call for our first foster child placement.

God never closed any doors this time.