Around 1:30am on January 18, 2005, I woke up not feeling so well. I went to the bathroom and had an upset stomach. I even threw up once before deciding that I felt better and returned to bed. As I lay back down, I said to Brian, "What if I'm pregnant?"

Well, a few minutes passed by and I began to feel sick again and headed back to the bathroom. This trip was much, much worse and ended up with me lying on the floor telling Brian that he had to call an ambulance. Dehydrated and still continuing to get sick, there was no way I was going to be able to get up off the floor.

Thirty minutes later (good thing I wasn't dying), an ambulance arrived and transported me to the emergency room at Jewish Hospital East. Let's just say it wasn't the greatest ride. The paramedic tried to start an I.V. on the way to the hospital but my veins were not cooperating because I was so dehydrated. She did manage, however, to bust the I.V. bag and spill fluid all over me and the inside of the ambulance.

When I finally arrived at the hospital, it was about three o'clock in the morning. I still continued to get sick while lying in the hospital bed, so they gave me a shot to knock me out and squelch the vomiting. They also continued to try to get an I.V. going. This perhaps was the most excruciating thing that has happened to me in a long time. All total, they stuck me eight times trying to get the I.V. started. Two of those times were in the tops of my feet. On the eighth time, the nurse told me, "If this one doesn't work, we'll have to try the neck." THE NECK? Who has ever heard of such! When I heard that all I could do was pray. Quietly, I pleaded with Jesus for this one to finally take because I couldn't imagine being stuck in the neck. Thankfully, it did. Before they hooked me up to the I.V. they drew some blood in order to run tests to try to see what was wrong with me.

I still continued vomiting into the morning hours. Even with the shot and fluids, I was so sick that I could not get up at all, not even to go to the bathroom. I had to get a catheter so they could get a urine sample in order to run more tests. Getting the catheter was one of the last things I remember before finally being knocked out and getting some sleep.

Early the next morning, a new doctor came into the room and introduced himself to Brian and me. He recapped the night's events and what all they had done. He began talking about the tests they had run, but all I can remember him saying was "You're pregnant." My response: "Humph." The doctor then asked, "Is that good or bad?" Brian chimed in, "No, that's good." The doctor continued talking but I have no clue what he said. I was in shock. I felt so awfully sick that it was hard for me to feel excited at first. You just don't expect to get the happiest news of your life at one of the sickest times of your life.

So how did it all end? Well, I was released from the hospital around nine or ten that morning. Once home, I continued to get sick the entire rest of the day. I could not keep anything down, not even water. By the second full day, I did feel some better and was actually able to eat my food of choice when I'm sick: mashed potatoes. It took me a couple of days to regain my strength and eat regular meals again. I took a home pregnancy test the next weekend, not because I didn't believe the doctor, but because I wanted the experience of seeing the two lines on the stick.

Maybe this whole situation was just the Lord's way of illustrating Isaiah 55:8 to me: "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord." I always thought I knew how I would find out I was pregnant, but my way was not His way. I have to trust that His way is better, and in this case, it makes for a much better story!