Is there anybody still out there?
No matter how much thankfulness I throw into each moment-no matter how tight I hold on-time slips by fluidly, passing warm and heavy like sand through my fingers. I blinked, and a third of a year has passed with no documentation and no possible way to recover in just one blog post.
My tiny human is no longer a baby. Her first birthday came and went, though I tried to hold it back. The celebration was an amazing collaboration of lace, twine, spray paint, vintage fabric, borrowed silver, handmade everything, late nights and pure joy (deserving of it's own post, I'll have to add a page to the top of my blog with more details and pictures soon).
It was perfect, just like her.
I anticipated turning into a crying ball of all kinds of mess that day, but somehow managed to avoid it. And though I was definitely devastated to be loosing my baby, I was able to welcome with open arms the beauty of everything that day held. And as we sang happy birthday to our miracle in the turquoise highchair my aunt found that we spent hours painting and distressing, ready to sink her sweet fingers into the gorgeous pale pink rosette cake my sister made topped with a single creme birthday candle, everything was just as it should be.
Stopping time-hindering her from growing-would cause me to miss out on so many blessings.
I adore the not-so-delicate way she stomps bowlegged around the house, always adorned in a dress, toenail polish and a hair bow. I love that she eats cheese like it's candy, has to ride in her pink wagon to get the mail every day, and chooses books over TV. I can't get enough of her fluffy cloth diaper rear, those chocolate brown eyes she took from her father, and her tiny little singing voice while she plays in the bath.
I love that she shares my love of shoes, edemame, and Contigo water bottles, yet looks exactly like her daddy in a dress; sweet, stubborn, and absolutely gorgeous.
I also love that there was a time not so long ago that I prayed fervently for a child, loosing faith and slowly surrendering to the possibility of never having one. And then there was a roller coaster of negative pregnancy tests, low betas, and phone calls confirming miscarriages. It was difficult-yes-but I love that it brought us to Scarlett Grace, and that God used that time in my life to mold and shape me into someone who can now appreciate even the worst day for how beautiful He can make it.
And when I look at my tiny human with her head full of sunshine hair and sassy composure, my faith is restored. I know that His ways are better than mine, because I have tasted and seen that He is good. I have birthed living proof of His mercy and goodness, and I'm reminded every day of the endless grace that we named her after.
I can't imagine loving anything more. But come October-possibly sooner-the plan is to move forward with our FET (frozen embryo transfer) and pray that God will choose to allow our two frozen embryos to successfully defrost and implant healthy and strong inside of my uterus, growing our little family and giving us even more reasons to glorify Him.
We know that statistics show the chances of a FET working are lower than a fresh cycle, but we also know who is in control. And the God I serve doesn't live by statistics, doesn't play by our rules; so if He chooses to defy the odds and bless us with more tiny humans, we would be humbled by yet another miracle. But if He chooses to set these sweet babies on His lap in Heaven instead of our arms here on earth, then our hearts will break, but He will heal them, and we'll be forever grateful that are arms aren't empty.
He's already answered our prayers once, and anything He adds now would just be more grace.
That being said, I'm still feeling the beginning of my nerves kick in as we move forward with decisions, choose dates, plan medication, and speak with our doctor who recently left California and moved to New York, which kind of changed our game plan a little bit.
A lot, actually. But that's a whole other post.
That all too familiar fear and anxiety is trying hard to weave it's way in again, and I'm doing my best to take everything one day at a time, shielding my eyes from the worries of tomorrow and the what if's that dance around in my head.
Not easy for my type A personality, but it's another learning experience.
Which I'm also welcoming these days, as I start back to school in less than a month. Deciding it was time to fully embrace the possibility of change, I made an appointment with a counselor at our local community college to see how many of the classes I took years ago would carry over to further my education, and I was suprised to find out that all of them do. So the many classes I took almost a decade ago for the X-ray tech program that I traded in for a business degree are still good, and they'll transfer smoothly over to a continued education in earning my Masters in the Dietitian/Nutrition field.
Instead of designing cabinets and interiors, I may someday be able to design food and diet plans for prenatal patients and children in a clinic or hospital setting.
I'm going to start small, taking baby steps in the form of one or two classes this semester and praying that the Lord leads me in the direction that He wants me to go. Pursuing this career change will most likely be a long, drawn out process, which I'm totally fine with. I love my current job and am in no hurry to leave, and the possibility of growing our family and raising Scarlett is my number one priority anyway. I may only be able to finish taking the three pre-rec classes I'm short right now, and then move forward with the dietitian/nutrition program after my tiny human(s) is in school full time. Or God may guide in a different direction and I may never leave the job I already have and love.
Either way, I've made the first move, and I'm doing my best to once again hold back the nature in me that craves a set plan and can't breathe without having a detailed list of steps in place. My head is swarming with questions and ringing with chaos; everything from the crippling fear that accompanies taking this detour of my already planned life and the possibility of leaving what I know and love, to panic induced by the utter darkness of the unknown.
But it's also kind of exciting at the same time.
To fully place something in God's hands, to truly trust Him with the future of our family and the future of my career is actually very liberating. In the worlds eyes, letting God plan the details is insane. It's ridiculous. It makes absolutely no sense to completely give yourself and your family and your dreams to something you can't touch, can't feel, can't see.
But I have seen. I have felt. And I touch what I believe in every day that I hold my child; the baby that wasn't supposed to be.
So I'll move forward-one day at a time-no rush, no set plan. I'll continue working with a little too much on my plate, trying to open an Etsy store, going back to school, raising one tiny human and praying for another, leaving a trail of promises to keep everyone informed along the way, and keeping my eyes fixed on the One who is actually in control.
So to those of you still hanging in there, following my journey and faithfully praying for us, thank you. I'm grateful for every single one of you.
And please, stick around.
I have a feeling amazing things are about to happen.
“Life is like riding a bicycle - in order to keep your balance, you must keep moving.”