The Doula Experience: Love It or Leave It?

What exactly is a doula? I heard that question several times when I announced we were going to use one for Addison's birth. Since doulas are not as prevalent here in OK as in other parts of the country, most people I talked to were not familiar with the term. (One of my friends sheepishly admitted later that she thought a doula was some new, hip baby toy). A doula, in short, is a labor coach. They are there to provide encouragement and support for the weeks leading up to the pregnancy and the birth itself. They can also be an intermediary between you and your doctor should he recommend something you don't want but are too frazzled to fight against. They usually specialize in one or two extra things as well, such as massage, placenta encapsulation, or even belly casting.

Because I am a procrastinator by nature, I waited until a couple of months before the birth to start looking for a doula. I found my options limited, but diligently looked over each doula's page anyway, weighed their pros and cons, and contacted one to interview.

I should have seen it coming. When we first sat down to ask the doula questions, I knew she wasn't a good fit. I knew I wanted someone extremely calm in the delivery room with me - a quiet, strong presence. She was too talkative and loud, very nervous, and not at all experienced. However, I am not good at saying no, so when it came time to tell her "We'll be in touch," knowing we wouldn't be, I instead found myself saying, "Where do I sign our contract?" as Erik looked at me in horror.

Over the next several weeks, I tried to look at the bright side. Her inexperience would hopefully mean that she was a little more eager and devoted to me and to getting things right, as she needed my delivery for her certification. I chalked our first meeting up to nerves, and tried not to dwell on it. She did contact me several times via text to check on me, which I appreciated. I was the ideal preggo, never calling to bother her or ask her questions. I did not speak with her again until the night I was ready to deliver.

When I called her a little after midnight to tell her my water had broken and we were headed to the hospital, she was somewhat surprised, I think, as we had planned to labor at home for awhile. She took it all in stride, however, and agreed to meet us at the hospital as soon as she could. The first hour or so was fine as she walked with me through the halls, encouraged me to listen to my music, and rubbed my back for a few minutes. When she fell asleep on the couch as Erik was helping me through a contraction though, I started to see the writing on the wall.

The initial reason I chose her for an interview out of everyone else was that her doula profile said she did lots of different massage techniques to ease the "discomfort" of delivery. Once the pain really kicked in, however, she became invisible, not getting off of the couch except to take a smoke break. No encouragement, no massages, nothing. My nurse and Erik were the ones championing me through it all, telling me I could do it. I did not hear a word from her through the 4 hours of really hard, pitocin-driven labor.

After the birth, we talked a little bit when I was coherent enough to realize she was STILL in the room. (We're talking HOURS)!! She told me that at one point, she had looked at Erik and said, "She's done," meaning I was about to cave and ask for the epidural. Can you imagine if I had heard that while I was laboring?! Knowing that the person you hired to coach you through your birthing experience not only didn't help you in that moment, but didn't even believe in you? That's disheartening to say the least.

Personally, I would not call a doula again were I going to have another baby, although I know that good ones are out there. All I can say is that IF you are thinking of hiring a doula, don't do what I did. Don't try to help someone who needs their certification if you don't think they're a good fit. Don't hire someone because they're a friend of a friend. And DON'T hire someone because you feel bad saying no. I think my experience could have been much more amazing had I gone with my gut and done just that. It wasn't all bad though. Somewhere between the moment our doula fell asleep and the moment I held Addison in my arms for the first time, I found my inner strength, and it turns out I didn't need a virtual stranger to help me do it.

CONFESSIONS OF A FIRST-TIME MOM-TO-BE

I have to admit, being pregnant has not been at all what I expected. I'm going to confess some things in hopes that I can help other first-time moms-to-be not feel so alone in their thoughts, trying very hard not to cross the line into complaining (or at least tempering it with humor). I still remember the sensitivity advice I was handing out not too terribly long ago.

CONFESSION #1: I have had and am still having a really hard time coming to grips with my changing body. I never realized how tied up part of my self-esteem was in being somewhat in shape. Watching my stomach grow each week was something I thought would be so incredible; instead I’ve stopped looking in mirrors, stopped shopping for clothes, stopped feeling attractive altogether. It makes me feel horrible even admitting it. I know I'm not alone in this as I have talked to other women about this very thing, but it's something rarely spoken aloud. I have really had to make a conscious effort to try to embrace the changes, to accept compliments, to accept myself. Who knew that being pregnant would bring about such self-reflection?!

CONFESSION #2: I am beyond scared about going into labor. Not just a tiny bit. We're talking straight terrified. I decided years ago that if/when God allowed me to have a baby, that I would have it naturally. This does not help my fear. I think that for the most part I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but I've seen way too much television to think that it's going to be easy. I have a doula, a birth plan, a competent (if horribly unsympathetic) OB, and a wonderfully supportive husband, but still the anxiety not only lingers but increases daily. Today I found out that as of week 39 nothing has changed - no dilation, no dropping, nothing. The thought of having to be induced and abandon the plans we've made is disheartening and scary. People love to share their horror stories, as well as those of their sister's best friend's cousin's daughter, which does nothing to relieve the apprehension.

CONFESSION #3: I have turned into a symptom googling, webmd-ing obsessor. Every twinge, every pain, every anomaly leads me straight to my laptop in search of validation or at least some explanation which may or may not alleviate my concerns. At least half the time I am forced to then google other symptoms or complications...it's a never-ending circle of searches. In my defense, I have NO idea what labor is going to be like, so every new sensation has me wondering if this is "it", if the time has finally arrived. I wonder if gestational hypochondria is a “thing”?

CONFESSION #4: Carrying a baby is NOT easy (at least not for me). I have seen so many women sail through pregnancy - a glowing, walking billboard to future mothers everywhere: “This is easy. Pregnancy looks beautiful on everyone. I am the happiest I’ve ever been.” I am hereby suing such women for false advertising. ;-) I am not the glowing type (unless I’m sweating from the exertion of walking across the room) and can only claim happiness during every fifth mood swing. And no, I’m not experimenting with new makeup; those are natural black circles under my eyes from trying to sleep with a bowling ball strapped to my belly. Seriously though, it is hard. I am so beyond thankful for this miraculous experience, but I would be remiss in pretending that the years of longing for it have lessened its difficulty.

CONFESSION #5: I cannot even think of a word powerful enough to convey my desire to be the best mom I can be, but lately the thought of failure keeps me up at night. I know I will make mistakes. I know that at some point I will hear someone say, “When I have kids I/they will never…” while looking at me pointedly, judging me as I parent my child. I myself have done that very thing. I know that there will come a time when my precious daughter will declare her hatred for me over some unjust punishment I have decided upon. I don’t consider things like that to be failures. No, the things that make me toss and turn are much more complicated. Parents leave a legacy, whether they want to accept that responsibility or not. I just want to make sure I’m leaving a positive one. I don’t come from an affectionate family; my friends always like to joke about my disdain for being touched. Will she get the love and affection that she needs to feel valued and self-confident, not seeking validation from the things of this world? Education is one of the most important things to me…will she value it, try hard in school, share a love of learning? Or will it be a daily struggle just to do her homework, a fight over something I hold in such esteem? Will I be an example of a Godly woman that she aspires to be like someday? Or will I make so many mistakes that she vows NEVER to be like me instead? I know that these are things unforeseeable, and that all I can do is my best. I know I will be spending a lot of time on my knees during her childhood, praying not just for her, but perhaps more importantly, for the betterment of myself.    

There you have it, just a few confessions from a nervous, excited, anxious, and sometimes irrational mom-to-be. I find it comforting that no matter how outrageous we think our feelings are, there is always someone somewhere experiencing the exact same thing. Hearing my thoughts echoed in the sentiment of another’s words is always comforting to me (and makes me feel a little more sane). Here’s hoping my thoughts will reassure another in the upcoming days.

Time Marches On...

Time. Time is a tricky thing. It is a rare constant, always moving forward at the same rate, and yet at any given moment to any given person, it feels varying, wavering, fluctuating. Never the same and yet always the same. It is unfeeling, without empathy, and impartial. A best friend or a worst enemy, or even both at the same time, a double-edged sword.  

Addison's birth is the most anticipated event of my life. When I think of holding her, seeing her, becoming a mother, time seems to stand still, even move backwards, days dragging into weeks. However, when I think about labor, giving birth, the fear of the unknown, the seconds speed by. I can't even seem to catch my breath. 

I believe our relationship with time is never more complex than when grieving a loss. My grandmother just went to be with the Lord a few hours ago. What my family wouldn't give to rewind time, stop it, selfishly keep her here with us a few more days. But as those closest to her saw her suffering, time was mercilessly slow.

Addison's entrance into this world coinciding with my grandma's departure of it is an example of time's cruelest paradox. My beautiful baby girl will never know her precious great-grandmother and my grandma never got to see me have a child of my own. I can only pray that Addison's addition to our family will be a bit of healing for us all. Even though I have lost someone who played a major role in so many memories, I will be forever thankful that I have them, and know that they will shape many of the new traditions we will make with Addison.

I am the world’s guiltiest when it comes to looking forward to events and wishing away the time in between. In these last few weeks before Addison comes, my grandma’s passing reminds me of how important it is to embrace every moment as it comes. I want to enjoy this time with Erik before our worlds are turned upside down in the best way. Time and life are synonymous. I don’t want to take even a second for granted; those seemingly meaningless, simple moments are when life happens, or passes you by if you’re not paying attention. My grandma is leaving behind such a remarkable legacy and has taught me many valuable lessons; I’m so grateful to be a recipient of this one.    

Undeserving

I spent 3 years avoiding blogs exactly like what this one is becoming. Blogs filled with babies and nurseries and sunshine...ick. That is why I have been hesitant in posting too many pictures of those very things on this blog. I know most people who read it are wanting to keep up with our story and are so excited for us, but I also know that I have been contacted by many who are still going through their struggles with infertility and miscarriage and so I am reluctant to constantly highlight my happiness.

There is a strange, comforting sense of solidarity when you come across someone that has experienced your type of heartache. Losing a baby or babies is not something ANYONE can comprehend unless they have gone through it. The excitement that suddenly turns into soul-crushing news, the daily struggles with faith, the excrutiating self-blame, the fear that it will happen again. It's just impossible to put into words that are sufficient enough. That's why for some, I know that although they are rejoicing with us, there is a sense of something bittersweet. Because even though I have gone through the hard times, my found happiness leaves behind unspoken questions. Questions that I asked myself on many sleepless nights when another struggling friend would start her own healthy pregnancy journey. Questions that sound ridiculous to outsiders, but line the wounded hearts of those in the thick of the pain. Why is this happening to me? When is it my turn? Will my husband still love me if I can't give him children? Maybe if I just do _____ for God? Why doesn't He answer my prayers? Will I EVER hold a baby of my own? Why her and not me? What have I done wrong?

I cannot answer those questions even now. My prayers have been answered, but I don't deserve it anymore than anyone else. I shudder when people say that to me."You and Erik deserve it!" It pierces the very heart of women who are looking for any reason why they are suffering. It seems to imply that the childless somehow don't deserve that blessing or are to blame, and that's just not true. I don't know why God has allowed me to have a healthy pregnancy thus far. I am thankful beyond belief, but I still hurt with those I know mask a pain behind their excitement. I do intend to post some pictures and continue the happy baby blogs, but I have felt compelled to let everyone know that I do it not to be insensitive, but to offer proof that God does indeed answer prayers and work miracles. We are His instruments, created to glorify Him in both our joy and strife. Believe me, not a moment of this complicated and heart-breaking 3 year journey has been wasted or lost on me. I pray daily for those of you still struggling: that you will keep the faith, that God will pour into your hearts while you wait on His timing, and that someday soon He will bless you with your very own little miracle.

Gender Reveal

A gender reveal party? Up until a couple of months ago, I had never heard of such of a thing either; something I have in common with most of our invitees and the general public. Our reveal party is not a request for gifts, not a desire for the spotlight, but a celebration. A celebration of this miracle that we have been entrusted with, a tribute to our families that have shed so many tears for us, fervently prayed for us, and rejoiced whole-heartedly in our blessing. I can't think of a better reason in the world to throw a party; the gender suprise is just the icing "in" the cake. Below are some pictures of the party, along with THE REVEAL! More pictures to come...

 Girl...or Boy???

 Votes are boy heavy!

 BABY JEOPARDY...Team Boy vs. Team Girl. Team Boy won!

 IT'S A GIRL!!!!!!!!! ADDISON CLAIRE

Walking Towards the Light

Week 15. Can you believe it?! It's a beautiful thing to wake up each morning, know that you're pregnant, and go about a normal day without worry or fear. Just a year ago, I'd never have believed it could happen. It's amazing what a difference a few short (long) weeks can make! Now to answer some FAQs:

Q: When is your due date?
A: November 13th

Q: When will you find out if you're having a boy or a girl?
A: Our gender scan is scheduled for June 14th at 1:15pm!

Q: What names do you have picked out?
A: If it's a girl, it will most likely be Addison Claire. If it's a boy, we're still tossing around ideas: Riker (a play on Erik's name and a nod to his love of sci-fi) and Sawyer are the only 2 we've remotely agreed on so far. The middle name for a baby boy will probably be John.

Q: How are you feeling?
A: I still get really nauseated when I go too long without eating, but it's getting better. I haven't gotten to the much-revered 2nd trimester energy boost yet either; here's hoping it visits soon! I'm in that awkward phase where you know you're pregnant but you don't really feel that pregnant anymore. It's kind of a weird limbo. I can't wait until I can feel Baby kick and move to reassure me! I do listen to the fetal monitor almost every night so that has helped me feel a little more connected in the meantime.

Q: How did you like your new Dr.?
A: He is definitely...interesting. He shall henceforth be called Dr. Wonka due to his evident love of jewel-toned velvet chairs and the bright candy-like glass sculptures that adorn his office. Also, he is a little awkward like Willy Wonka and I'm sure their bedside manner would be quite similar if Wonka were to cameo in Grey's Anatomy or Private Practice. Anyhoo, he definitely wasn't as impressive as Dr. IC (as I'm quite certain his main credentials were from the 80s), but I've heard good things so I'm willing to overlook his quirks and flamboyant tastes for now. If he starts suggesting a chocolate river birthing experience, I may have to change my mind. :-)

I want to say a big thank you to everyone that has been praying, and continues to pray for us. This has been such a long, hard road and we are finally basking in that light at the end of the tunnel instead of shielding our eyes (and hearts) from it.

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of light, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning." James 1:17

My Miracle

Another week, another miracle! Well, since Dr. Yet To Be Named is booked until May 8th, I am continuing to thrive under the care of the illustrious Dr. IC until then. This means (you guessed it!) Baby T got another photo shoot today! I don't know if future baby is going to be a model or a soccer player, but boy was there some posing and moving going on! Baby was sucking its thumb, turning its head from side to side, and kicking its tiny legs. Keep in mind, Baby is only an inch long right now...an INCH! And through technology this little miracle fills up the screen with its already adorable acrobatics.

I could gush all evening about hearing the heartbeat again, seeing Baby's tiny arms waving around, and gazing at its emerging profile. I could try to elaborate on the elation I'm feeling and the pure joy I'm reveling in. But I won't. I know that each week is going to bring about new, beautiful moments that will be more substantial and amazing than the last. I'm afraid if I expound, I will run out of adjectives before I get to week 40...when my miracle ends...and begins.

I have prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of Him. 1 Samuel 1:27

Planning...

Doctor time again! I have to admit, now that we have moved out of the dreaded 7th week, I look forward to each ultrasound. This baby has had A LOT of photo shoots in its short life! This week I measured 9 weeks, we got to see our baby moving, and the heartbeat was a strong 174 bpm. I could get all corny and say that I have never heard anything more beautiful in my life...and I just did. Now that the fear is subsiding and the excitement is building, I am finally starting to let myself plan a little!

The doctor said today that if you don't have a history of losing a baby after 9 weeks, the chances of it happening now are very low. Dr. IC even decided that I can be released to a regular OBG! I have to admit that I'm a little bummed about losing my weekly baby sightings, but it's unrealistic to think I should have one every 7 days for the next 7 months or so (even if it does help me feel better). With all of the changes going on, I decided that I am leaving the care of Dr. Never Again and all of the bad memories behind. I'm going to use a colleague of Dr. IC's; I can't wait to meet him in person so I can name him. Seriously though, with all of this great news, how can a girl not get a little ahead of herself?!

In my head the nursery is finished: a shabby chic room with antique books and a pretty chandelier for a girl, a room full of police cars and fire trucks for a boy. My extremely talented father has made such amazing things for the other grandkids; I can't wait to add a carousel rocking horse or motorcyle rocker from Poppy to said rooms. I will keep my names a secret for now, mostly because we don't have a clue what it will be if it's a boy. I can't wait to buy yet another pregnancy journal, this time with the confidence that I get to keep it! I can't wait to find out the gender of our baby and am already planning a little reveal party for family and friends. I can't wait to hold this baby in my arms and see with my own eyes a miracle from God. And most of all, I can't wait to just be a mom: the hugs, the kisses, the snuggles, the crying, the screaming, all of it. I'll be ready. You can plan on it.

The Pregnancy Realization

My how the tables have turned! It seems just a few short months ago that I was complaining about the complainers. You know, the ones lamenting about their stretch marks and morning sickness: nails grating on the chalkboard of my unpregnant belly.

I have gained some sympathy for the women I secretly tried not to envy. You see, pregnant women have a secret. We can be oblivious to all but the growing life inside of us. It is so easy to complain when you feel sick every moment of every day and your piles of laundry mock you from your perch on the couch. The only part of my body that seems to work lately is the finger that presses the buttons on the remote. Any more movement than that and I may have to take a nap. I have even found myself complaining to people that I know are struggling. Hurting from their own fertility issues, marital problems, even previous miscarriages. Who AM I?!

Well, I am human. The farther I get into this pregnancy the more aware I am that I am just like most other moms-to-be. I definitely have a faster stop-talking-alarm than most, but I want it to be even more sensitive. It's been so easy to get lost in the bliss/misery combination that is pregnancy, but I don't want to be callous to those suffering from true anguish. After all, I was there not too long ago. I've prayed that God use my losses for good; listening empathetically while quashing my complaints is just one way I can help make sure of it.

A Hopeful Mother's Prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord this babe I'll keep.
Guide me safely through night's dreams
And wake me with the first sunbeams.

I ask for peace o'er all my fears
I believe that You will dry my tears.
You know my past has been so hard
Renew my strength and heal my scars.

All moms-to-be have the same prayers
Whether with child or waiting for theirs
For health, safety, and happiness yes
But most of all, for them to be blessed.

Prepare my heart to be a great mom
Guide me, lead me, and help keep me calm.
Your ways are higher, this is true
I've nothing but my trust in You.

My heart is held in your strong hands
Its breaking, I pray, is not part of the plan.
I believe in my soul this baby's the one,
We'll praise your name daily, daughter or son.

Uncharted Territory

We are now entering into a new phase of pregnancy: somewhere we've never been before...we are past the dreaded 7th week! I measured 8 weeks today and the baby's heartbeat was 161 (a girl to all of you heart rate theorists). We've never seen a baby get this big or heard a heartbeat this strong.

That brings me to the next new phase of pregnancy...excitement. It's still tempered with caution, but the hopefulness is overtaking everything. Part of me feels like I should try to rein it in, but I don't want to. To think that staying cautious and negative will cushion bad news should it come has not served me well previously. I have still broken down. I have still struggled with whys and resentment. Ultimately, I don't want to miss out on the beauty and excitement of a viable pregnancy because of my past! I feel like it would be unfair to this baby to reflect back and guiltily think about how I didn't write in a pregnancy journal or keep my ultrasound pictures because I refused to let myself go there. He or she deserves a  normal-acting mommy-to-be so they can read about the hopes and dreams I have for them someday; so they can know with all that they are that mommy loved them from Day 1, not Week 40.

I don't know anyone that has this pregnancy journey all figured out. It's a difficult path to navigate even when you've never had a problem pregnancy. For me, sometimes facing the uncharted is better - there are no references to the past, no links to the disappointment. Friends, Welcome to Hopetown!

The Glass Isn't Empty!

It is with hopefulness, thankfulness, and excitement that I report that at this moment I am still pregnant! I know that may sound a little strange, but as most of you know, nothing about my journey has been normal. Most women don't see a doctor until at least their 8th week; I've seen mine once (sometimes twice) a week since week 3. I've had a few problems that have given me some scares, but at this time I have seen the baby's heartbeat twice and so far it's measuring a week bigger than my dates say it should. (7 versus 6) Dr. IC said that at this point we should "consider the glass at least 60-70% full." Any fuller and it might tip over and spill right? 70% is full enough for me.

This pregnancy so far just has a whole different feel to it. I am sicker, more exhausted, and more at peace than I have been through past experiences. Some of my friends may question the "at peace" part due to the amount of prayer requests I've been soliciting at every turn, but it's true. At peace for me doesn't mean no anxiety, as I'm not sure that I even know how to live that way. Even when I'm not pregnant I give off a stressed vibe...that's just me. At peace means that I know now more than ever that God is in control and there is NOTHING I can do but pray. Previously that knowledge just left me feeling helpless; this time it's a little empowering. I can't ruin this or change the outcome. God's plan is in motion; my attitude while I live it is just as meaningful a testimony as it will be when I hold a baby in my arms someday. Now THAT, I CAN control.

Puzzle Pieces and Plus Signs

Isaiah 55:9 says, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." This verse explains so much...while essentially explaining nothing at all.

For the past few years I've been searching. Searching for God's plan, searching for the missing puzzle piece that would complete the picture showing my future, searching for answers. I was trying to humanize God.

I took the miscarriages to mean that maybe we should foster. (Our human minds MUST make immediate sense of tragedy). I decided that our difficult time fostering equaled the need to adopt through DHS. Then when that didn't happen in my timeline I began planning to save for a domestic or even foreign adoption. Common denominator? I, I, I. GOD is in control, not me. I cannot put God in a box. I can't frantically connect the dots and try to make sense of the senseless, not without diminishing the beauty of surrender. If I had all of the pieces to the puzzle, I wouldn't need faith, or even prayer.

I can say this much...God never ceases to amaze and surprise me. This leads me to our BIG NEWS. On the same day that the adoption worker FINALLY called me back, I saw a plus sign (and I don't teach math). It was super faint, but 3...or 6...tests later the virtually invisible lines were growing darker. Yup, I'm pregnant.

I'm only 4 weeks and I found out just before I was 3! I feel super pregnant this time...and I relish every symptom. I have been to the doctor 3 times already. I've had excellent HCG and progesterone levels, and today I saw the gestational sac. It is much too early to see anything else, but Dr. IC was very encouraged that it was in the right place. I have to admit, I was a little disheartened when he asked if it was my first pregnancy. I know he has lots of patients, but c'mon, at least read my chart before you walk in the door. That is such a painful question to answer! Regardless, his impressive credentials (from whence he got his name) gleaming from the wall reflected a confidence that can't be ignored. I'm excited for the coming days, and I'm taking his assurance to heart.

God is in control, and after five heart-breaking miscarriages I am more than happy to relinquish it to Him. You see, His ways are not my ways, and at this moment I have never been more thankful.

Hanging by a Thread...of Hope

Well, we received news today, but it was ambiguous news at best. Isn’t that the most horrible kind? Good news puts you on top of the world, bad news allows the beginning of acceptance and healing, but uncertain news, in my experience, gives you just enough hope to hang yourself with later.

Today we went in for our first ultrasound. I can say that I have come to dread the whole production. I have never had an ultrasound in which I got to stare at the screen with a feeling of excitement and wonder. No, my first ultrasound was a disaster, and each one since has either mirrored the first devastating experience or set me up for one down the road. Today, I fear, was no different. The doctor did what doctors always do – they measure the baby. By all mathematical calculations I am 7 weeks 3 days on the dot. The baby, however, only measured 6 weeks 3 days. For those of you who don’t know, this is quite often a precursor to miscarriage. First the growth begins to slow, and then it stops completely. Now, on a positive note, there was a heartbeat, which means Baby is still alive and kicking. I am also still having all of the miserable (yet reassuring) symptoms as well. I go back on Wednesday for monitoring…in one long, LONG week we will know the fate of our baby.

I have had a whole range of emotions today. It has been a roller coaster…riding the optimism up to the top of the hill, looking out over the big picture, and then racing down into hopelessness so vast it takes your breath away. I know that my God is bigger than anything, that He can do all things, and that my faith is the ONLY thing I can hold onto right now. I also know that as a recovering pessimist/realist, I want to prepare myself for the worst; as if a horrible scenario replaying hourly in my mind will somehow cushion the ton of bricks should they rain down on me in a week. My faith and my mind are separate right now, warring over the right to control what I think and feel, leaving me feeling wrung out and numb.

My amazing friend reminded me today that everyone is on my side, and that no reaction is wrong to what I’m experiencing, despite my tendency to beat myself up over losing faith sometimes. Although I don’t know anyone who understands exactly what I’m going through, I know so, so many people are praying for us, shedding tears with us, and sending their love our way. Whether it pours bricks on Wednesday or God reveals a rainbow, know that your support and prayers have meant everything. 

No news is good news?

If it is true that no news is good news, consider this blog the bearer of AMAZING news. That’s right, I have not one scrap of new information to report. This is a good and bad thing, as I am very ready to share the news of my first appointment, but I’m even more thankful that I have no discouraging symptoms to report. I plan to go to the doctor next week – with or without my mysteriously absent insurance card – and then I’m sure I will have plenty of good to relay!

I know that to most I have sounded really upbeat and well, breezy (being that I said that was my intent) but if I’m really sincere I must admit that internally I’m struggling with a lot of anxiety. You see, all four miscarriages have occurred during a break from school… and Spring Break is rapidly approaching. It also just so happens that this break corresponds with my never-surpassed 7^th week. Panic attack anyone? Seriously though, the fear surrounding next week has been trying to overtake my mind for the past several days. It would be so, so easy to let it. This time I’m not relying on the latest cure-all diets or even modern medicine. The only thing left to hold onto? FAITH.

Sometimes we drop to our knees as a last resort, when everything is falling apart and we don’t know what else to do. I have been there many times during the past two years. What if we decided to make that our first resort? What if we offered ourselves up to be God’s latest success story, a testimony to the world of what He can do through our faith?  If I was injecting myself with shots every night, who would get the glory from a healthy pregnancy? Doctors? My husband for braving and enduring the wrath the shots induced? Me for withstanding the pain and flood of crazy hormones? This time, I’m giving it all to God. Not after it’s over and I need Him to pick up the pieces, but NOW. I’m holding every thought captive until I’m sure that it’s not destructive…it’s okay to be scared, but it’s not healthy to dwell on it. Keep praying Friends; I believe with everything I am that they’re working. :-)

Change of Heart

I never wanted kids. An extreme statement, I know. For 5 ½ years I always answered the infamous and somehow automatic day-after-you-get-married question of “So, when are you having kids?” with a bright, fake smile and one word. “Never.” When that same nosy person would knowingly smile back and say, “I’m sure that one day you’ll change your mind,” I would respond with an irritated, “We’ll see.” It’s impressive how much annoyance I could convey through those small words. The aggravation did not stem from their intrusion into my private life; it came from the way they would call into question my life plans as silly and unlikely with a simple sentence. Finally, because I grew tired of bristling at everyone in my life, and since no one is exempt from the mandatory asking, I simply changed my answer. I would instead say, “I don’t know.” This was an effective reply to spring on the invasive questioner because the unsaid raised so many questions that their brain would go into overdrive. While they were thinking of which epiphany-inspiring inquiry to pose next, I was steering them to a new, less tricky subject.

I had a whole list of reasons why I didn’t want kids; I would frequently recite it to those closest to me. Pregnancy equaled getting fat, finding stretch marks, suffering from morning sickness, not to mention the pain of labor. Babies were noisy, stole your sleep, and created multiple dirty diapers a day. Toddlers threw fits, teenagers mouthed off, young adults left you broken hearted to start their own lives. This was the future I envisioned with kids.

All through the few short weeks of my first pregnancy I was angry and bitter. I didn’t want to be pregnant to begin with, especially not considering the state of our marriage. I felt as though it were a cruel joke for me to get pregnant during such a tumultuous time in our relationship. The joke was on me.

It is amazing how your whole outlook can change in an instant. The day that we found out we had lost Baby #1 was that day for me. So many times in life you don’t realize what you have until it’s gone, and then it’s the only thing you can think about. The day we lost the baby was the same day I knew that I just had to be a mom. Due to our situation, people don’t really ask me when we plan to have kids anymore. If they did though, I would have a new answer: “As soon as we’re blessed with them!” I am confident that that life-changing day is coming soon (October 31^st to be exact)!!   

SURPRISE!!!

Friday was one of the biggest days in our still young lives. We bought our dream house – the house we hope to raise a family in, grow older in, maybe even retire in! The day was exciting, but looonnnggg. We started out the morning closing on both houses, a surprisingly painless process (as long as you don’t think about the money you’re spending). I spent the entire afternoon loading and unloading boxes while my muscles screamed in agony. I felt muscles that I didn’t even know existed rebelling after a few hours. Now, during all of the frenetic activity that defines moving, there was a little thought nagging my brain. The more I tried to disregard it, the more it pushed other thoughts aside and yelled my name. I couldn’t help but think about the vivid dreams I’d been having all week, the all-too-familiar cravings I’d been indulging, and the extreme exhaustion I’d been succumbing to. After a week of denial, my subconscious would be ignored no longer. I finally took a test. Yes, that’s right, THE TEST. And as “luck” would have it, the test read pregnant, a word that when seen means something totally different to me than most. I won’t lie, my first thought was not a word I feel comfortable typing. It was quickly followed in rapid succession by disbelief, resignation, guilt over lifting boxes all day whilst ignoring my instincts, and a teensy bit of excitement. I can’t go to the doctor until March 1^st due to some recent insurance changes - that’s right, we switched insurances in February…we’re rebels like that - so until then I have nothing else of note to report. As of now, my pregnancy plan is as follows…just keep living my life and pretend I’m not pregnant for awhile. Constant worrying, watching everything I eat and drink, injecting hormones into my body - none of that has worked. Maybe my new breezy outlook is the key? Maybe not. All I do know is that I’m pregnant once again, and I’m not in control. With that being said, please send some prayers up for me to the One who is! :-)