When I See Him
A First-Time Mom's Testimony of Hope and Love through Loss
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The sermon at church on the Sunday couldn’t have come at a more suitable time. Our congregation had been studying the book of Genesis, delving into the theme of God’s love from the very, very beginning. The message that day was called “Wait for It.” The Scripture was from Genesis 15–16, when God made a covenant with Abraham that he and his descendants would be made into a great nation. We know today that this promise wasn’t fulfilled until much later. Abraham and Sarah waited a quarter of a century before they had Isaac … a quarter of a century! That’s not too far off from all my living years.
The months of waiting to be pregnant suddenly became so insignificant. I was disappointed with how impatient I had been all along. Sarah had to wait years—no, decades—before bearing a child. How were these months considered waiting? Quite plainly, they were not.
Herm and I reflected on this after church. It was as if the sermon was directed specifically at us. We were both reminded that we needed to leave our family planning to God.
And God responded. The following few days I kept hearing a still, small voice asking me, “Have you forgotten who I am?”
I am not one to say that I regularly hear the voice of God. Truth be told, I don’t know what it sounds like. I just know those words kept resurfacing, and those of Genesis 15:7 really impressed upon me: “[God] also said to [Abraham], ‘I am the Lord, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land to take possession of it.’”
Well, I thought if it was indeed God speaking, I was going to give Him a response He deserved. Not that I was expecting to receive any sort of land or inheritance, but this verse taught me that He is the Lord who delivers us through anything and everything. I have not forgotten; I have not forgotten who You are.
We were in the beginning of summer, and I was looking forward to having Joe, my closest cousin who lives in Vancouver with his young family, visit during his business trip at the end of July. Over a long August weekend, our church was having its biennial summer retreat. Herm was also going to take me to see the Beauty and the Beast musical for my birthday, and I was going to take him to the shooting range to celebrate his. With activities like these, I knew I had an eventful summer ahead of me.
A couple of weeks into July, I started to notice spotting when I went to the bathroom. This was normal, as it was around that time of month. By now the anticipation of becoming pregnant had worn off, so I proceeded to expect what would follow in a few days.
A week passed. Still only spotting. Weird, I thought. It doesn’t normally take this long for it to come. Never mind that. My body’s just acting funny. It’ll come, have no doubt. It’ll come.
With my cousin from Vancouver in town, we brought him to Toronto’s most trendy eateries to hang out. It’s a tradition of ours to eat our way through the city, averaging two places for dinner a night, and a third for dessert. He stayed with us Friday night so we could spend more time together and have a Hong Kong–style breakfast on Saturday—also a tradition.
In the car ride after accompanying my cousin to his coworker’s house, from where he would be driven to the airport, I told Herm my period still hadn’t come. I’m not quite sure why I let him persuade me to buy a pregnancy test at the drugstore on the way home. I didn’t want to waste the money, since I was convinced I wasn’t pregnant; but his curiosity needed satisfaction, and I needed proof that I was right. So I happily agreed.
I read the directions on the box carefully and waited for the morning to come, as that’s when they recommended would provide the most accurate results. I took the test on Sunday, thoroughly counting a whole five seconds as I saturated the absorbent end of the stick. Even before the two-minute wait period was up, the vertical line appeared as evident as the horizontal one. I went over the instructions again to check that I had done it correctly. They don’t make these tests too difficult to interpret, I have to admit.
“Um, honey?” I called.
Herm walked into our bathroom, joining me as I stared at the stick on the countertop. He gasped and hugged me from behind, “Yay!”
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About the Book
In When I See Him, a mother recalls her journey with her firstborn son, from his anticipated conception to her eventful pregnancy that leads to his premature birth. She recounts his days at the neonatal intensive care unit and shares an intimate story of finding God in those around her for hope.
After waiting over a year to start a family, God finally blesses Sharon with a child. While there are moments of joy and excitement in her pregnancy, there are also frightful episodes that end with trips to the emergency room. Following some complications, her son is born—thirteen weeks early. Sharon and her husband suddenly find themselves with new responsibilities of parenting a preemie in a hospital environment. As they face the realities of being in the neonatal intensive care unit, they are taught to rely on God’s grace and to trust in His sovereignty, even when God gives them “exactly what they need.”
When I See Him is a candid, hope-filled, and intensely personal account of the peaks and valleys Sharon and her husband experienced with their baby boy and a testimony of how God used their son’s life in ways that were higher than their own.
About the Author
Sharon C. Mo is a civil servant to the province of Ontario in Toronto, where she applies her passion for finances. Singing, traveling, and baking are some of her favorite pastimes. She lives in Markham with her husband, Herman, and their sons, Everett and Ezra.