"Trust Me"

In early August, I had a dream.  In the dream, a friend told me not to be scared, that I would have "a September baby."  When I had that dream I realized that even though I'd been hoping and praying each month to be pregnant again, part of me also drew a sigh of relief when it didn't happen.  No pregnancy meant no risk of miscarriage.  I began to work through that fear in the month that followed.

On September 4 a few days before I was expecting my period, I had a little spotting that seemed to taper off.  Implantation bleeding?  I wondered.  After three negative home pregnancy tests, my period started full force on September 7.   

I shared this story with my therapist.  She encouraged me that in order to get pregnant I would have to work on letting go of my anxiety around getting pregnant.  By hoping too much, anxiously worrying and fretting over every twinge and sign my body gave me, I actually created stress that made the environment of my body less hospitable to life.  

My hyper-focus on getting pregnant ironically made getting pregnant less likely.  

She advised me to shift my focus to simply enjoying spending time with my husband and let things happen more naturally.  I took what she said to heart.  

Toward the end of September, I noticed some changes in my body.  I was getting up to pee in the middle of the night.  My breasts were getting bigger and my nipples were a darker pink.  Based on the 9/7 date for the start of my last cycle, I wasn't expecting my period until October 2, but based on how I felt I decided to test on September 29.  (9/29 was the day my period would have been due based on the 9/4 start date, and looking back, I think I should have counted 9/4 as the first day of my last menstrual period all along).  

While I was performing the test, C walked in to the bathroom.

"Is God sending our baby back?" she asked.

I said that I didn't know yet.

C sat down on the bathroom floor and started mumbling to herself.  I didn't realize she was praying until she stood up and said "Amen." 

"God said yes!" she announced.

I looked down at the test.

I could barely see a second pink line.  Was I imagining it?  Was it wishful thinking?

A test later that day showed a darker second line and I dared to believe that yes, I am pregnant.

In the weeks since then, I've swung between confidence that I will certainly meet this baby in June and a sense of doom that another miscarriage is inevitable.

I held my breath as I passed the 5 week mark where I lost Audrey Hope last year.  When that day came and went, I went to a clinic to have the pregnancy confirmed and the doctor said she wanted to schedule a pap smear and an ultrasound "to confirm viability and dates."  She told me to come back in two weeks.

The days leading up to the appointment were the most stressful yet.  I imagined worst case scenarios.  Maybe the ultrasound would show an ectopic pregnancy.  Maybe the baby had stopped growing but my body didn't know it yet.  

I'd shared the news of my pregnancy with friends and family early on to get prayer support.  I'd asked everyone I could think of for prayer for this ultrasound and my own peace.

By the Thursday morning of the appointment, the prayers for peace had done their work.  My anxieties and fears had (mostly) melted away and I felt excited to see the little heartbeat.

When we were called back, a nurse took my blood pressure and weight and had me pee in a cup.  Then she led us to an office.  She said she had some questions before we saw the doctor.  One of her first questions was, "Do you have an appointment for a pap and dating ultrasound?" 

I was confused. Wasn't that what I was there for?  No; that day's appointment was an intake interview and blood tests.  Apparently there had been some miscommunication with the original doctor.  The pap is now scheduled for November 11, and there may or may not be an ultrasound at that point.

After the initial disappointment of not getting to see the baby as I had hoped dissipated, I began to wonder why God had answered the prayers this way.  

The clear answer was a simple: "Trust Me."

So as of today, October 31, I'm exhausted all the time.  I pee all the time.  I'm frequently hungry but get full after just a few bites.  I'm experiencing food aversions and nausea and heartburn more intense than I remember from my pregnancy with C.  

I'm eight weeks and one day pregnant and grateful for every day.

Discipline of Asking for Help

I've had quite a year.  Actually, the run of stressful life events begins back in February 2010 when DH lost his job.  In May 2010, C was run over by a van and survived.  In July 2010, my father-in-law collapsed and broke his leg and we found out he had colon cancer (since completely eradicated, praise God).  The leg required surgery and the surgical wound became infected with MRSA, which is still lingering a year later.  In August 2010, we completed a short sale on our condominium in Southern California and relocated 200 miles north to the San Joaquin Valley.  In October 2010, we lost our precious baby.  Last month, I found out my dear grandmother has Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) or Lou Gehrig's disease and may only have a year to live.  Meanwhile, DH has been working crazy long hours to try to build an insurance agency from the ground up.

The stress and grief has brought some old patterns of negative thinking back to the surface,  and depression and anxiety have been rearing their ugly heads in my life.  I've been coping by zoning out online and getting angry and resentful with DH, which along with the long hours, has been hard on the connection of our marriage.

DH and I had a big discussion a few weeks ago that cleared the air between us and we are feeling more in love and connected again.

But I recognize that I need more help to learn to cope with all that life has thrown at me in healthy ways.

Last week I attended a Celebrate Recovery meeting, and plan to go back this week.  There I was confronted with something I haven't wanted to acknowledge or think about: I've been angry with God and have been pushing Him away.

Reconciling with DH and opening back up to God as my first source of comfort and strength has made an enormous difference.

But I know it is not enough.  There is still work to be done.  I want to finish the work I began and get healing for the old hurts and broken places that have been neglected and worked around over the years.

So I'm going to seek one-on-one counseling as well.  It's been a discouraging process.  The first therapist who called me back set an appointment and then cancelled it when she realized her case load was too heavy.  I made more calls and didn't hear back for almost a week. Finally, yesterday, one called me back and I have an appointment for Monday at 3:30.  I liked her over the phone, and I'm hopeful that we can work well together.

As always, I'm still a pearl in the oyster, still one of God's works in progress.

With Hope

This morning after dreaming of my Grandma, I woke up with the chorus Steven Curtis Chapman song, "With Hope" stuck in my head.

It first came to mind a few weeks ago when I learned she was diagnosed with ALS.

Again it echoed in my brain, so I looked up the song to listen to in its entirety.

The song begins with the sweet little voice of a young girl singing "Jesus Loves Me."  Then I remembered Steven Curtis Chapman's daughter died in 2008 after being run over in the driveway by a family member.  He recorded the song in 1999, 9 years earlier.

As I listened to the lyrics, tears filled my eyes.  Gratitude that my little girl survived her own driveway accident, grief for my second little baby who I will always miss, and the poignancy of the joyful hope of heaven Mr. Chapman and I share.

You can listen to the song here, or read the lyrics below:

This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but ...

CHORUS:
We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
(There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan
But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father's smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free, and ...
(CHORUS)

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything
God promised us is true, so ...
(CHORUS)

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope

The Discipline of Grief

If I hadn't lost my baby in October, perhaps I would be giving birth soon.  My due date was June 25.  

We've been trying to conceive again since then but to no avail.

After a few weeks and months, the intense grief of the initial loss subsided into a background hum, sometimes easy to ignore.

The discipline of grief is balancing the need to go on with the life with the need to acknowledge the loss. 

This week, the background hum has become distracting, a rising tide of sound demanding attention. 

I should be having a baby soon. 

Instead, we're still watching and wondering when we will be blessed again. 

And yet I know that when (or if?) we are, that won't change how much I miss Audrey Hope and wish I could hold her.