The Sacred 2 week Wait
There is a kind of silence only known
To the woman who waits
Between conception and confirmation,
Between promise and proof.
It’s the sacred ache of the two-week wait
That feels like forty in the wilderness.
When your body becomes a question,
And every cramp, a riddle.
You Google until your soul feels thin,
Checking for signs that might mean life
Or loss.
Some are here after years of trying,
Marking calendars with tears
And ovulation sticks like hope-cracked swords.
They’ve tithed their faith to each failed cycle,
Still whispering: Maybe this time.
Some arrive here fresh
First-time mothers,
Still dizzy from the wild yes
Of stepping into the unknown
With trembling, sacred innocence.
Some carry this new spark
While still bleeding from the last
Loss mothers who’ve buried babies in secret and silence.
Their joy is quiet.
Their prayers loud.
Their faith? Refined in fire.
Not naive, but knowing.
Here, in the first eight weeks,
Time stretches eternal.
Each day, a throne room visit.
Each morning, a whispered check-in:
"Are you still with me, little one?”
“God, are You still with me?”
You try not to worry—
But you do.
You try not to Google—
But you do.
You try to celebrate—
But what if it’s too soon?
You try to prepare—
But what if you hope, and then…
Oh, beloved
All of it is valid.
Every path that led you here:
After miscarriage.
After infertility.
After birth trauma.
After spiritual surrender.
After IVF.
After adoption.
After decades of doubt.
After prophecy.
After numbness.
After joy.
After everything you've been through.
God sees every route you walked,
Every “not yet” that crushed you.
He collects every tear you ever cried
Onto the altar of this new beginning.
And He says:
“I AM the Keeper of what I place in your womb.”
“I AM the One who numbers your days and your baby’s.”
“I AM the One who fulfills the desire of your heart.” (Psalm 20:4)
“I do not tease. I do not trick. I do not give in vain.”
So yes, the wait is long.
But you are held within it.
This is not limbo
This is gestation.
This is holy ground.
This is womb-time warfare and
Heaven’s whisper that you’re already a mother,
Not just when your belly shows
Or your registry fills
But now.
Now, as you wait.
Now, as you hope.
Now, as you cling to the hem of His robe
And say,
“If You are willing.”
And He answers,
In thunder and stillness,
“I have heard you. And I am with you. And I will fulfill.”
Wait, daughter of the King.
Wait in faith.