{Just Enough}

I thought I'd feel it by now.

The butterflies are taking flight in my abdomen, my palms are getting a little clammy and my mind is going a mile a minute.  I'm excited, a little nervous, a tiny bit anxious and no where near ready.

But there is an absence of sleepless, earth shattering fear.

Last Wednesday I had an ultra sound done, and I didn't ask the tech how many follicles I had over 1mm.  I didn't ask how thick my lining was, and I my heart didn't drop when she said my uterus was still retroverted (I hoped my pregnancy with Scarlett would correct it, even though all doctors say it really isn't a problem). I just laid there on the table, hoping to be back here soon looking at something a little more substantial on the screen.

Something with beating heart.

Then I headed across the street to get my blood drawn.  And as I sat in that sterile room, surrounded by sharp needles, soft cotton balls and the stench of rubbing alcohol, I was no longer concerned about how much this would cost me, how I would hide the bruise I would likely get from it, or even what my blood hormone levels would be.

This was good.  

But later that day, as I waited for the nurse in New York to call me with the results and let me know what dose of meds to start on that evening, I started to get a little nervous.  The OCD part of me began drumming my fingertips on top my desk at work, wondering why they still hadn't called, knowing that with a three hour time difference, their office would be closing soon and I would be left without instructions, helpless and out of control of a situation. 

My worst nightmare.

Just to be sure, I gave them a call.  Not a panic induced, short tempered, irrationally induced phone call, just a call to see how things were going.  And when the nurse answered on the first ring and let me know they still hadn't received the ultra sound results yet, I wasn't angry.  I didn't get upset, didn't place blame.  I simply called the office that did my ultra sound and asked them to please make sure they send the results-which they said were complete but had not yet been signed off on my a doctor-over to New York as soon as possible.

Then I waited.

I wanted to call the ultra sound office several times over the next hour, making sure they faxed over the results.  I also wanted to call the office in New York, just to see if they'd received and reviewed them.  I wasn't as anxious as I would normally be, but there was definitely a  part of me that felt like I was drowning, being held under water with no where to go, no air to breathe.  And just when I was about to give in and take matters into my own hands, something would stop me.

Be still, and know that I am God.

And as quickly as the urge to take control came on, it disintegrated just as fast when I was reminded that I'll never really be in control anyway.

A perfectly timed text from a friend asked things were progressing, and I shared with her that I was fighting a bit to stay out of God's way.  She assured me that He would take care of it-as He always does-but that she would pray that the matter would be resolved quickly.  And as I put my phone down, started the car to head home and turned off the radio to have a talk with God, my phone rang. 

I pulled over on the side of the road-less than a mile from my work-so the nurse could give me the instructions for the start of my medication.

I know it seems small.  I know it wasn't the end of the world.  But to me, it was just more affirmation that when I step back from my desires to control the outcome of this cycle, I make more room for the Lord to work in ways that are more visible to me and those around me.  Had I called the office in a panic, I would have reached the same end.  They would assured me that they received the information and they would have given me the instructions needed to start my medicine.  But I would have ended that conversation with a pat on my own back, proud of myself for cleaning up a situation that would have been a complete disaster had I not stepped in and saved the day.

It's happening slowly, a change that's been a long time coming, but I'm finally starting to see that there simply is no day that needs my saving.  Loosing control may be the very best thing that's ever happened to me so far.

I never even asked what the results of the ultra sound and blood work were.  I still don't know what my E2 level was, how thick my lining was, or how many follicles I have growing.  And despite my curiosity about what will come of the follicles that I may have growing since I'm not on any sort of medicine to stop my ovulation, I haven't felt the urge to call the nurse to ask.  Instead, I keep hearing the same verse over and over in my head.

Be still, and know that I am God.

If my lining looked horrible, I would panic; google a million different ways to thicken it up and spend too much money on store bought and home made potions.  And if it looked amazing, I'd find something else to worry about.  So for a drastic change from my previous cycles, I'm opting not to ask.

Because I can't do anything about it anyway.

Why did it take me so long to get here?  How long have I thought that I was giving up control, blind to the fact that I was still holding on tight, clinging with white knuckles to whatever I could reach, whatever I could still manipulate?

I'm still learning, and I'm far from finished with this battle.  The real test will come as we creep closer and closer to the transfer of these precious frozen babies.  There is a giant list of hurdles that stand between myself and the end of this road, a thousand things to over analyze, a million possibilities.  What happens if they don't survive the thaw?  What if they do thaw successfully but they are poor quality? 

What if it doesn't work?

For now, I'm asking for God to give me enough grace to just make it one day at a time.  And with that simple prayer, peace is coming in waves that roll right over the top of the fear and worry and my natural tendencies to control, the strong current pulling them back into the vast ocean where they belong. 

I'm finally attempting to truly be still.

I'm thinking twice about making that phone call.  I'm fighting back the urges to know more. I'm becoming more aware of the triggers that lead to fear-fear of the unknown, fear of loosing control-so that I'm ready when it strikes.  And I'm doing my best to instead fill my heart and my mind with Words from The One who is in control.

Promises of peace.  Promises of understanding, contentment, love, joy, long suffering, gentleness, meekness, and all things good.  Promises that come only if I trust, only if I think on these things, only if I walk in the Spirit.

Promises that come true if I spend more time filling my mind with hope than with fear.

It sounds simple, really; but for me, this doesn't come natural.  It's not second nature to let go and let God, it's extremely difficult.  I want to fix it, I want to change it, I want to make it work.  I want so badly to squish that square peg into that round hole, even though I know it doesn't belong.

But God is good, and He's been faithful to answer my prayers, giving me the Grace I need to keep fighting even when I would rather just give up, calming my heart with His Words; dancing in my head, spinning, turning and skipping like a broken record.

Be still, and know that I am God.

And as I and listen, alert and in tune, I hear more. 

Hold still.  Calm down. Don't worry about it. Let Me take care of it. You don't have to fix it, I'll fix it for you. I have it all worked out, I know what I'm doing.  Just come talk to Me, I'll help you.  Share what your thinking with me, I can give you what you need. You don't have to hold it together, I'll hold it and you. Just hand it to me. Trust Me.  

And another wave of Grace rolls, pulling me up out of the water and filling my lungs with air.

Just enough.

But He giveth more Grace. Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you...and He shall lift you up.

James 4:6,8,10 (KJV)