{10 Months, Round 2}

Even though it's been almost a year since she came into this world, I feels more like yesterday.

I went to the doctor Wednesday morning the 18th, 40 weeks and 1 day pregnant, feeling heavy and ready. Having opted against being checked previously, I was 99.9% sure that my first internal check would show me at least a few centimeters dilated and about 50% effaced, easy.

After all, this was my second pregnancy.

But after an extremely painful internal check, the Dr. just shook his head.  And as he stood up to remove his gloves and flip through my chart, I waited quietly for a few moments, wondering if I'd be able to have this baby on my own, or if they would force me to evacuate her instead.

Finally, he spoke.

So, would you prefer to go in for the induction tonight, or wait until early tomorrow morning?

My heart dropped.  I wanted so very badly for this little love to come in her own time, not on the doctors schedule.  But my body wasn't anywhere near ready to let her go, and I was told that the combination of a gestational diabetes diagnoses and absolutely no effacement and dilation this late in the game meant that an immediate induction was the best and most necessary rout to get my baby into this world as safely as possible.

And because I love my doctor and trust his judgment, and because I had been praying that God would make the answer clear, I let go and let God.

We chose to get the process started that night, because my doctor was delivering the next day and we wanted to be sure he would be available. And as I waddled to the car, my heavy heart began to lighten with excitement and the checklists in my head re-organized themselves.

Send out a group text, check.  Get my nails done, check.  Do a final clean up on the house, check. Sew a blanket for big sister while she naps, check.  Load the bags in the car, check.  Enema, check (I know.  But since my body was not going to go into labor on it's own, I was terrified it wouldn't clean itself out, so I was determined to do it myself). Shower, check. Makeup and hair, check.  Same sundress and sandles I delivered Scarlett in, Check.

We wanted to feel as normal as possible, so we asked if we could check in after going to Church that night, to which the nurse agreed.  We soaked in the well wishes, passed our sweet girl off to the grandparents and headed for the hospital.  I was an excited, nervous, anxious, giddy, fluttery mess.

And I was so very hungry.

All of the checking off my lists that I had done earlier in the day had left my mind swarming and my stomach empty. So against my better judgement, we stopped at Taco Bell first-totally defeating the purpose of my earlier enema-and I ate my burrito bowl as fast as I could while we drove a few more blocks to the hospital.

We checked in around 9pm, and by 11pm I had a cervidil placed to ripen my cervix and antibiotics in my IV to fight the GPS+.   We adored our nurse, and spent the night together laughing, joking, and downing maternity cocktails.

After a few more rounds of antibiotics and a quick removal of the cervidil and extremely painful internal check, I had dilated to a 3 and was 70% effaced.  As I waited to hear what the doctor would like to do next, I showered and touched up my makeup.  Around 1pm, the doctor came in to visit and said he'd like to check me and then break my water.  Depending on my body's reaction, they would either administer petocin, or some other drug to get this party started.  But first, he wanted to check me again.

And I begged him not to.

I used to think I had a pretty high pain tolerance.  But for whatever reason, these internal checks were killing me.  I was tired from lack of sleep due to the constant blood pressure checks and antibiotics for the GBS+, and I had already given up my natural birth plan the second they told me that I was going to be induced.  I figured if they were going to pump me full of things to force my body to go into labor, I may as well take the drugs to make it as pleasant an experience as possible.

Mom fail, I know, but still.

After sheepishly admitting to the doctor that I didn't think I could handle another internal check, he told me not to be embarrassed, because the cervidil had made my insides even more sensitive.  He prescribed me a light topical numbing cream, and said he would come back in an hour to check me then.

Best. Stuff. Ever.

So, an hour behind schedule, I was given the goods and they broke my water.  And after a few more hours, I started to feel the contractions more regularly, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. With my first labor, my water broke on it's own and my contractions didn't start until I was already 6cm dilated, and when they came, they came hard.  As a result of the intense back labor, I begged for the epidural and from there on it was pure bliss.  So as strange as it sounds, I was actually enjoying getting to work my way through these contractions, and feel my body do what it was made to do.

As time went by and they became more painful, I would just stand up and rock back and forth, breathing through them. I labored pretty steady until around 6pm, when I could see on the monitors that they were picking up in number and intensity. Knowing I wanted an epidural eventually and that I was running out of time, I decided it was time to get down to business.

I locked myself in the bathroom, and vainly refused to leave until my body had emptied itself of anything that could possibly make it's way out with the baby.

Then-and only then-did I come out.

And after a few more big contractions, I asked for the epidural, knowing it would take a while for the anesthesiologist to come in.  I still wasn't in unbearable pain, but I was suddenly terrified of something so big coming out of a very small place, especially as I remembered that my first labor ended with a third degree tear.  I assumed this was going to be a sort of pain that my sleep deprived body wouldn't go through willingly.

By 7:45, my body was warm and heavy. The epidural I received with Scarlett stopped my labor and pitocin had to be administered to move things along, so I figured this would be no different.  And at this point I hadn't slept in almost two days, so I was looking forward to a few hours of sleep before showtime anyway. So I sent out another group text, and drifted off to sleep.

15 minutes later, there was a shift change.

Instead of feeling frustrated at being woken up, I was thrilled to see my close friend arrive.  She was in the room for my first delivery, but this time she was working and we were hoping my baby would come that night so that she would be the nurse to deliver her.  We joked that God had kept our sweet baby inside until it was time for her shift to start, but now that she was here, we were ready.  She danced around the room, pulling out the warming bed and getting the tools out, asking if I felt any pressure and when I had been checked last.

I told her they had just given me my epidural about fifteen minutes ago, so we still had plenty of time. She had me flip over to my side to relive the small amount of pain I could still feel in my lower back from the contractions, and decided to check me anyway.

And just as I was looking forward to getting a little more sleep before meeting my littlest love for the first time, she stood up quickly and told me there would be no more sleeping.

This baby ready to come out.

Now.

There would be no practice pushes, she said.  The doctor needed to get there right away.  And suddenly time sped up and slowed down at the same time. There was a flurry of people swarming in and out of the room, prepping and talking all around me.  My heart started to beat faster as they re-positioned the bed and turned on the floodlights. I could feel the pressure, and I could feel my legs enough to move them when they asked me to lift myself up so they could slide the cloth underneath me, but I was in no pain.  And before I knew it, the room was full of family and friends, and the doctor was in position.

Then we waited.

A contraction showed up on the monitor, and with my sister holding one leg and my mom holding the other, my husband right in front and everyone else all around, I pushed.

One, two, three pushes.

The contraction came to an end, but I felt like I needed to push again, so I did.

And there she was.

The doctor twisted her and lifted her half way up, and just like with her sister, I reached down and pulled her the rest of the way out and slid her onto my stomach.  Her cord was shorter.  She wasn't crying.  They left her on me though, and rubbed her until she made noise.  And as the doctor sewed up my second degree tear, they cleaned her, tagged her, and assessed her, she never left my body.  She stayed with me until about an hour later when they took her to weigh her.

A healthy 8lbs, 2.9oz, and 19" long, and just like her sister, all kinds of beautiful.

I just stared and stared.  Examined her perfect fingers and toes.  She had my hands and feet.  She had dark brown hair, which was a surprise, but it was beautiful.  She was amazing and perfect and everything I ever wanted. It had all happened so fast, I felt like I was in a dream.

And since then, she has been exactly that.

A dream come true.

She looks like her sister, but different.  She won't take a bottle, but it's OK.  She is a chatterbox, very particular, and happiest when everyone is looking. Just like her birth, she is easy.  Her hair has lightened up a bit and her eyes have turned the same maroon that her sister and father have, but they are shaped like mine.  Every time I look at her-at both of my girls-I'm just in awe of God and what He's given me.  I whisper softly to them that they are fearfully and wonderfully made, just for me.

And I want more.

I want to do this again and again, to feel life inside of me and watch it turn from a dream in my head to reality as I hold these precious gifts.  I am addicted to the smell, the rush of new life and the expansion I feel in my heart at that very moment that they are placed in my arms.

I am so blessed to have this.  I wanted this so badly, and He answered my prayers.  I don't deserve these loves, I've done nothing to earn them, yet He said yes.

Every throaty giggle, every wet kiss, every baby babble, chubby cheeked grin...I just can't get enough. Every single day I get to know her more and more, and I just want to eat her up.  I smell her often because she still smells a little like Heaven, and I want her to stay little forever, but I also can't wait to meet her; to meet the precious little girl that she'll become as she grows.

We adore her.  She adores us.  She fit seamlessly into our little family, and we can't imagine life without her.

Welcome to the world, Georgia.

If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle.

-Vincent van Gogh

 

{40w2d, Round 2}

Our sweet Georgia Pearl was born at 8:06pm on Thursday night, September 19th.

She was a perfect 8lbs, 2oz, and 19" long.

Her birth was even more amazing than I could have ever imagined.

We were released from the hospital less than 24 hours later, and are now adjusting to the blessing of becoming a family of four.

{Birth story coming soon}

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Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.
James 1:17 (KJV)

{38w1d}

Unless she decides to come on her own, our littlest love will be on her way into this world two weeks from tonight.

I'm not a fan of being induced-I don't like it one bit-but at today's appointment, our Doctor said that it was time to schedule our induction. Because of the Gestational Diabetes (that is completely controlled and has yet to be a problem, proven by blood sugar levels and weekly NST's) he respectfully refuses-despite my begging-to let nature run it's course and allow this little miss to come whenever she's ready. Instead, he will start the eviction process if she's not here by late evening on the 18th.

They say my due date is the 17th, I say it's the 19th, so starting an induction on the 18th isn't the end of the world. It's just that I love the anticipation of the end of pregnancy. My belly is full and round, but I'm not uncomfortable. Everything is so wonderful and easy right now, this sweet little babe just goes everywhere with me, without the time taken to feed, bathe, clothe, change, or hush cries. I love to feel her move, and contemplate what she'll look like; every day is one day closer to meeting her. I only wish it could be on her-more realistically God's-timeline, not on that of our doctor.

That being said, I also understand that the doctor has my best interest and the interest of my baby in mind. He's only scheduled this induction because He believes it's the safest for us both. And when I really stop to think about it, God allowed me to be diagnosed with gestational diabetes. He also provided me with an amazing doctor whom I love, and trust. So even with the anticipation of her arrival possibly destroyed, I have to trust that God still has His hand in this and even this induction-should He allow her to remain inside until her due date-would be another part of His perfect plan, whether I like it or not.

So although I would love nothing more for my water to break or to go into labor in the middle of the night in a dramatic and exciting fashion (which makes for better blogging and birth stories, right?) I am willing to accept whatever comes our way.

Which seems to be the theme of this pregnancy.

Along with the scheduled induction at today's appointment, I was also told I am positive for Group B Strep-again-and we sort of forgot to check my progress. So I have no idea if there is anything going on down there, but I kind of like it that way.

Adds a little bit of excitement back into this game, yes?

So while I wait patiently, I have a few more things to cross off my list, like finishing the illustration of an adoption book for a sweet friend, scheduling newborn pictures, sewing a crib skirt for my tiny human, packing my hospital bag, cleaning out the hall closet, and catching up on assignments for my online nutrition class.

Oh, and choosing a middle name.

But despite the rush to get everything done, and the disruption of my plans and my way, I am just so thrilled to be right here, right now. Never a boring-or free-moment, I have so much to look forward to, so much to be thankful for. This is such an exciting time, and I refuse to let any change of plans ruin that. Instead, I'll remember who is in control, and pray that He has His will in this new life that will be here before I know it, even if that means a scheduled induction to go with my Group B Strep, Gestational Diabetes diagnosis, and those new stretch marks I just found on my butt.

As long as it leads me to a healthy new addition to our family, I'll take it.

"God always has a plan, and everything happens for a reason, good or bad. We have to roll with the punches."

-Keith Urban

{36w2d, Round 2}

So...36 weeks.

So much has happened, and I keep procrastinating when it comes to upates, mostly because I don't know where to start. Shortly after I finished my Microbiology class, I came back to work full time-for a few different reasons-and suddenly I woke up nine months pregnant. When our littlest love arrives I won't work for at least three months, and then transition back in part time, but for now everything is a little crazy.

But I'm soaking in every single second, because I'm told it's only going to get crazier.

Scarlett Grace is almost two and a quarter, going on twenty-two. My goodness that child is sassy. And we have no cable TV, Satelite, Netflix, or any of that other fancy stuff, so I can't even blame it on the Television, which means it's probably my own fault. A few of her favorite phrases right now are a very dramatic "Oh goodness, I don't like that, Thats like freaking me out, That bothers me, and my personal favorite, that's not necessary.

But despite her dramatic attitude and demanding personality, she really is just...amazing. And at a very healthy 33lbs and 38" tall-niether her father nor I are small, so I suppose having a delicate, petite child wasn't really ever expected-her personality is matching her extierior. She's so incredibly smart, determined, strong-willed, gorgeous, and refreshing. Sometimes I feel like I'm talking-and arguing-with a teenager, but I wouldn't change anything about her.

She's as prepared as she can be for her baby sister, and talks often about holding her and rocking her. She's almost completely potty trained too, which is something I was avoiding because I thought it would be a nightmare, but she took to it right away and really suprised us with her love of panties and the toilet. Even the trasition from the crib-converted-to-a-toddler-bed to her big girl bed went smoothly, and it didn't phase her a bit to see the converted crib set back up as a crib for her sister. So I really do have high hopes for the new babies survival, and absolutly no concerns about the shared room.

Our tiniest human and I are doing well too, I just adore being pregnant. Even though this pregnancy started off a little rough, I really have been blessed. I'm a little bigger this time arround and my stomach actually looks like a regular, round pregnant belly, but I'm still measuring just a couple weeks behind and she is healthy. There really is nothing in the world that compares to growing a tiny human in your uterus. And though I'm exctied to meet her and get to know her on the outside, I will very much miss having her on the inside. Feeling her move and wiggle every day is just a reminder of how good God is, and how good He's been to me. The way I see it, I'll have an entire lifetime to hold her and kiss her, but for now, she's growing under my heart-right where she belongs-and I'm in no rush for her to exit just yet.

And other than being diagnosed loosely with gestational diabetes this time arround, we've really had no complications. My morning sugars are sometimes boarderline, but that's really it, so I haven't had to change my diet or take insulin; though I have it if I need it. My attitude this pregnancy is just so different than last time; I really am able to take things as they come. I don't have a strict diet or excersize plan-though I should-I have no birth plan, and even gestational diabetes doesn't phase me. I have this complete peace that God is in control, and that He will provide for and take care of this blessing that He's created.

And suprisingly, I'm not even plagued with the very normal fear of being able to love another child. Though the thought crosses my mind from time to time, I'm just not concerned; mostly because I know that God created a mothers heart to be perfectly capable of expanding. It's happened once before, and I have faith that it will happen again and again, as many times as it takes. I'm also aware that there will be a period of adjustment for our little family as this new gift is added, but I'm prayerfully prepairing for that as well, and I'm trusting God to make that transition a smooth one for us, like only He can do.

So, pretty boring, right? No complaints, no fears, no worries...I hardly recognize myself. I feel like so much has happened, so much is going on, but it's almost as if I'm standing in the middle of the hurricane, right in the eye of the storm. Everything arround me is spinning, but I'm safe. Protected. Peaceful.

Maybe this means something big is coming, and God's prepairing me for it. Or maybe it simply means I'm finally learning to trust Him, to take things one day at a time, and to look less at what's going wrong, and more at what's going right.

I'm unexpectedly growing a healthy, second human. The one I already have is pure sunshine. And with way more to be thankful for than I deserve, I am just in awe of the blessings that keep flowing.

Oh, how He loves us!

“Reflect upon your present blessings-of which every man has many-not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”
Charles Dickens

{24w1d, Round 2}

School is finally out, and I didn't get the impossible A I was hoping for, but I did get an 89%.

I'll take it.

Now I just have to figure out what to do next.  Apply to the nursing program and wait the two years to get in, while praying to see if that's what God really wants for me?  Or struggle through one more crazy difficult five unit class with a toddler and newborn then apply to the dietitian/nutrition program in another town and figure out how to make it work? 

I don't know.  But right now, I can breathe again, and I like the way it feels. 

My uterus has been occupied for six months now, but I found out two days into my microbiology class, and I haven't really had time to process it all. And as I walked out of my final last week, I looked down at the shadow cast from my round belly, opposite the larger shadow of an overstuffed backpack, and I finally understood the recent side-eye glances shot my way these last couple of weeks.

I'm pregnant.

I'm six months pregnant.

And that beautiful verse drifted through my tired and saturated mind; and this is the sixth month with her, who was called barren (Luke 1:36).

It stopped me in my tracks and shifted my focus to where I was just six months ago.  Fresh out of a failed FET cycle and the hustle of the holidays, our plans of growing our family were empty; we had hit a wall and were at a standstill.  Stuck somewhere between being unwilling to give up on hope of more children and the need to move on, we knew we wouldn't be pursuing any more treatments, and resorted to half-heartedly praying again for God to shift our hearts to adoption-but we just weren't ready to make that next move yet.

I had finally stepped lightly into a place of contentment with our one child, but I still had a strong desire for more that I just couldn't shake, and I remember trying to talk to God about it through the confusion.  During those two months I spoke with Him often, in sporadic, disorganized conversations telling Him I believed He could give us more, but I didn't know if or how I should ask.  I wanted to be content in all things, but I also didn't want to give up on the desires that I knew He placed in my heart.

I didn't know what I wanted.  And I was confused as to what He wanted for me.  Was the door closed, and He was waiting for me to accept it as such?  Was the growing desire and uneasiness at the thought of letting go in my heart my own pride, or was it put there by Him?  Was I just over thinking this like I do everything else?

So I did what I always do, and I made plans.  I was confused, unsure, and tired of waiting, so I gave in and began to remap out my future, working with what I had.  And what I had was a beautiful nineteen month old, an almost finished education that could lead me into the health field, and the opportunity to move forward.  So I decided to take the one class I was missing, sign up for the nursing program, and after the assumed three year wait list, change my career path just in time for my littlest love to enter preschool. 

There.  Done.

Except it wasn't done.  Just like always, God had other plans.  And two days into my new plan, God showed me His. 

Well, part of it at least. 

Another little girl.  One more sweet blessing, more undeserved Grace.  Another answer to prayer done on His perfect timeline, not my own.

And now I set here, in awe of my shadow. The one that shows a growing belly opposite an overstuffed backpack.  Once again unsure of which way to go, what step to take next.  This newest love, our precious tiny human #2 growing in my uterus changes my plans quite a bit, but I'm not sure how yet.

And I'm in awe of God's faithfulness, His love for me.  He planted this desire for children in my heart years ago, and the road to them was absolutely perfect.  He allowed me to grow, shifting and shaping my heart along the way.  And though it was painful at times, He knew it was just what I needed.

And I'm just starting to realize that along the way-though my faith in Him was growing-it was still flawed.  The many cycles and treatments that it took to achieve our first miracle was something I knew He controlled, but I still relied on the science behind them as well.  And it wasn't until our failed FET, the ending of our very last try, that I finally had to let go completely. 

There was no more rope to hold on to. 

With the final decision of no further treatments in our future, it was the very first time that I had to lean 100% on Him for answers and guidance.  No back up plan, no frozen embryos, no more IVF, it was finally time for complete surrender on our journey.

And so I told Him that I wanted more.  Or at least I thought I did.  But I wanted to be happy with one if that's what He wanted for us.  And I told Him that I believed with all my heart that He could give us more naturally, but that I wasn't sure if He wanted me to ask for that, or if He wanted me to move on.  I told Him I was confused, and that I trusted Him, and that I was thankful for what I had but that I was pretty sure my heart wasn't ready to let go and I still wanted more.  I said everything I could think to say, and trusted that He knew my hearts desire despite my feeble attempt to verbalize it.

And I left it at that.

And with the unexplainable, intense love that He has for His children, He took my broken, confused, selfish and unorganized prayer and looked passed it, straight to the desires of my heart.  He knew what I wanted even when I didn't know how or if I should even ask for it.

And in His perfect plan, He allowed me to reach that place where I had absolutely no control-a place where I had no choice but to let my heart cry out to Him because my words failed me miserably-before He gave me what only He could give.

A new life growing inside. One that only He can receive the glory for. 

And now, once again, I'm unsure.  Confused of my future and where I should go from here, but still anxious to make the next move, just as impatient as ever. 

But this time, there's a peace.  If I didn't see it before, I see it now.  God works things out His own way, in His own time, and even when it doesn't make sense to us, we have to trust that His way is perfect.  There really is no point in rushing, pushing, planning, and stressing, because God will open up doors and make things work when He wants them too, not when I want them too.

And as I look back on my life, even just in these past six months, I can't help but know that it will work out, someway.  Probably not my way, but His way has always proved to be better anyway.

So this time, I'll pray again.  I'll do my best to talk to Him about what I'm feeling, and I'll express my deep desire for wisdom and guidance as to which way to go.  But this time I won't stress as much over the details, because I know He knows my heart, and He'll answer when He's ready.

And in the meantime, I'll enjoy this time that I have to carry my second daughter.  I'll prepare my heart for mothering two little girls, and thank God every day that His ways aren't my ways, and that His plans aren't mine. 

They are so much better.

“God never withholds from His child that which His love and wisdom call good. God’s refusals are always merciful — “severe mercies” at times but mercies all the same. God never denies us our hearts desire except to give us something better.”

-Elisabeth Elliot

{20w, Round 2}

Half way already.

Tiny Human number 2 is growing, I'm growing, my class is almost over and big sister will be two this weekend.  Some days I can't even remember what month it is.  Life is a whirlwind, and I'm just hanging on. I feel so blessed, a little overwhelmed, and a whole lot tired.

But not in a bad way.  It's a good thing.  I asked for this.  And I love this.

It feels like just a few days ago I was writing in this blog about our infertility treatments and struggles. Taking shots, traveling out of town for doctor appointments, feeling defeated and praying desperately for a child of my own.

And now she's about to turn two.

It still takes my breath away when I think how God chose to answer our prayers and entrust us with such an amazing gift after such a long struggle; it's almost more than I can comprehend.  We waited and prayed, we accepted His will-whatever it was-and He was faithful.  He showed us His mercy and grace in the form of a gorgeous, spunky little girl.

And then we wanted more.  Selfishly, we longed for another child to add to the unmerited favor we already had.  So with our hopes set high, we headed to New York longing for our final two embryos to complete our family, but God had other plans.

And now I'm half way through baking our second miracle.  A child that God chose to give us naturally, showing us that He really is the only one in control-the only one who can create life-no matter the circumstances.

Unlike science, He has no limits; and I'm so grateful.

Today we saw our littlest love on the big screen.  Watched her gentle, soft movements, made with perfectly formed limbs and extremities, and saw that precious, beating heart. Everything was as it should be. And as I sat there on that table, with my husband and daughter on my left and a second one growing strong and healthy under my heart, I thanked God for all of it.

For more undeserved blessing.  More unmerited favor. 

For more Grace.

But he giveth more grace.

James 4:6 (KJV)

{14w1d Round 2}

 The tech that did our NT scan last week said that I had the sweetest, calmest, most cooperative child she had ever seen.

And I was shocked.   

Given the actual morning sickness this time, and the extreme exhaustion, I would have swore this was going to be my wild child.  Scarlett Grace gave me the most amazing pregnancy, the perfect birth, was sleeping through the night at five weeks, was a champ breast feeder, and really never gave us any problems.  She's polite-for the most part-smart, adorable, and pretty much perfect (to me).  So naturally I just assumed this second blessing would be my crazy one.

And it still may be.

But the technician and I spend the extra time we had-since she was able to take the measurements needed in record time due to the reserved, cooperative angel in my uterus-marveling at the sweetness and gentleness that was just radiating off of this child.  I'm so in awe of how God can take a single cell and turn it into this moving, breathing, precious little life. 

My sweet, calm baby.

Can you see the adorable face over to the right?  And the tiny torso in the middle, with the precious arms on either side and the little knees at the left?

Now that it's all becoming real, I wonder who this little one will be.  What they will look like, how their personality will develop, and who they will become.  I am so blessed to have the responsibility of growing and leading their heart, and I know I will only fall more in love when I start to feel them move and watch them-and me-grow from the outside.

What an amazing process God has created our bodies for!  To think that inside of me right now, there is life growing.  I will never get over how incredible it is to be a part of something so incredible, something only God can establish, despite our best efforts of medical procedures, potions, and science.  

The nausea has disappeared, and my energy is back.  I no longer have a desire for bagels and cream cheese, and even frappuccinos can't temp me.  Which is surprising, because I recently discovered a snickers frappuccino-a java chip frappuccino with a few pumps of toffee nut syrup-and it's good. 

Also, I still have no idea if this little one is a boy or girl, but the truth is I really couldn't care less. Giving Scarlett a sister would be ideal, especially since they'll have to share a room in our two bedroom duplex for a while.  And everyone knows there's nothing cuter in this world than baby girl frocks and hair accessories.  But giving my husband a son would be amazing too, and raising a little man would outweigh the cons of the difficulty of finding little boys clothes that aren't covered in strange sayings, puppy dogs, or frogs.

And this time around, I don't care if I gain more than the suggested thirty five pounds, end up with swollen ankles, or even stretch marks. 

Because I love being pregnant.

Seriously; best job ever.

Everything grows rounder and wider and weirder, and I sit here in the middle of it all and wonder who in the world you will turn out to be.

Carrie Fisher

{12w2d, Round 2}

I'm at the end of my first trimester, already.

I've been having so many thoughts lately; everything from how I wish I could slow things down, to wishing time would just hurry up.  It's crazy how much I have swimming in my head on any given day.  Just a mass of disorganized, irrational, brilliant and random thoughts all jumbled up, all fighting for my attention. 

Mostly, I just ignore them, because it's the only way to stay sane.

But I don't want to forget how it feels.  I don't want to complain, but I also want to listen to my heart and my body and remember how it feels to be here, right now, in this very moment.

I'm tired. 

So very tired. 

With Scarlett's pregnancy, I had extra energy.  So much energy, I didn't know what to do with it.  I never got sick, and I didn't start showing until half way through my pregnancy.  She was riding very low and very compact, giving me an odd, thick, trunk like midsection instead of a big, round belly.  I remember wishing I were sick-even just a little-to reassure me that everything was fine and that I was indeed growing a tiny human.  And I wanted that belly, that full, round belly that I could show off.  But in the end it worked out, because when all 8lbs 9oz of her came out, I pretty much just returned to normal.  And then breastfeeding took care of the rest in no time, plus a little extra.  It was so nice.

But this child is another story.

From weeks six to week eleven, I was nauseated.  I never threw up, but it always felt as if I might.  And for some reason, only Manhattan Asiago Cheese Bagels topped with with Garlic Cream Cheese, paired with a giant Jamba Juice could make me feel better.  That, and anything super salty like french fries or Dill Pickle Lay's Chips, along with anything super sweet, like Welches berry, grape or cherry Popsicles, or a milkshake from any drive through.

So, I'd pretty much eat my allowed caloric intake by 10am.

And even though the sickness wrapped up last week, that last part hasn't.

Just like with Scarlett, I don't really want meat.  But with my first pregnancy, I counteracted that with eating at least one hard boiled egg a day to make sure I got enough protein, and I tried to eat almond butter with an apple or celery, too. 

This time, I just eat an extra bagel.  With extra cream cheese.

And I don't work out.

I'm working part time, and in school the rest of the time. Plus I have that mommy-wife guilt that I didn't have last time.  I know that I'll been done with my final class in May, so I should just push forward and finish it up, because it won't be any easier to do once the baby comes and I have one more (much wanted) responsibility.  But it's just so hard.  My brain just isn't what it used to be, and I'm not willing or able to give the time that I probably should to be the most successful in this class, because it's my first science class in a decade, and it's not an easy one.  In fact, out of close to one hundred and twenty students last semester, the teacher only gave out two A's.

Which doesn't make me super hopeful.

And the counselors told me that thought they'll count all of my previous classes that were taken forever ago toward any career path I choose to take, the classes I'm taking now will be scrutinized much more closely because they will be my most recent work, and therefore a better indicator of my dwindling brainpower.

So, kind of a lot of pressure to do well in this Microbiology class.  I don't want to take up this much time and make this much effort for nothing.

But I found out the day after I started Microbiology that I was pregnant.  And since then, I've been extra lazy, hungry, and tired.  I know my energy would improve if I would eat better and try to work out, but once I get home from school and or work, I just can't justify taking the extra time I don't have left over to go to the gym while my family needs dinner and attention.

But again, I don't want to complain.  The class is actually interesting, and I know God's opened up doors to allow me to do it at this time in my life, and after the 23rd of May, I'll be free and clear for a few years while I apply to the nursing program and just wait to see if that's the path God wants to take our little family down. 

But for now, I'm not going to lie, it's a hard, and a little more than I bargained for.

So I'm praying that God helps me to retain the information that I'm learning, so that I don't have to spend as much time stressing over the readings, labs, and countless tests.  And I'm praying that He gives me the desire and strength to fight the urge to go to bed at seven every night and sleep in until the last possible second each morning, encouraging me to maybe rise a little earlier to take care of the house, my family, and my body.

And most of all, I'm praying that I don't wish this time away.  I really would love to hurry up and be done with this class, but I also want to enjoy this time with my family before it grows by one precious, tiny human, and to soak up all I can of my daughter before she turns two in May. 

And then goes to school.

And then starts driving.

Sigh.

These moments go by so fast.  I'm already almost through with the first trimester of this amazing, miracle pregnancy that God has gifted me, and I'd really love to just relax and worry more about how to cram an extra crib into the second bedroom of our two bedroom duplex than about making my next batch of flashcards.  But the Proverbs woman managed to accomplish work, family, and extra curricular activities in an allotted period of time, so I know I can too.

Though I'm pretty sure it said she was the last to go to bed and the first to wake in her household, and I'm having a little trouble with that part.

But I am thankful.  I'm grateful.  I'm still in awe of what is happening to my body right now, as I watch my stomach grow to a size that I hadn't seen until the end of my second trimester with my first pregnancy.  I'm embracing the changes, and amazed by the Grace I've been shown.

I'm also much calmer this time around.

At our first ultra sound at seven weeks, the Doctor found what he called a blood clot behind the baby, which then became known as a fluid sac by the next ultra sound, as it had grown with the baby.  Normally I would be beside myself with worry, but God's given me a peace this time around.  The doctor said that it's probably just random, extra fluid, and we'll keep an eye on it.  I just need to watch for symptoms like bleeding and premature labor, and take it easy.

I'm also using the extra fluid sac-the one that's growing along with the baby-as the excuse as to why I'm so much bigger this time around.  It's like I'm growing twins, but without the extra hormones.  And-of course-the second baby.

Right?

Either way, I'm trusting that God has a reason for this extra fluid sac, and I'm not allowing myself to get caught up in worry unless the doctor gives me reason too. 

I'll use that extra energy making more flashcards, instead.

And maybe-just maybe-I'll start getting out of bed extra early in the morning, so I can go work out, do some house cleaning, laundry, and make breakfast and lunch and prepare dinner so I will be less tempted to drive through McDonald's (which would normally gross me out) or Manhattan Bagel and it's next door neighbor, Jamba Juice (because those purchases are doing a number on my wallet).  Then I'll slow down my stomach growth, start feeding this second tiny human a much healthier diet, and possibly gain back some energy, too.

Maybe I'll even get smarter in the process, and suddenly do the impossible and ace this Microbiology class.

Because if my broken, infertile body can get pregnant, then I'm sure it's possible to get an A.

Then when it's over, I can pat myself on the back while I switch gears and start thinking about what I think this tiny human inside of me is.  I'll begin choosing names, redesigning the nursery, and bask in the glow of my ginormous reflection in the mirror, enjoying the fact that I'm growing a tiny human, instead of worrying about the number on the scale or the size of my clothes. 

Because somewhere-in the midst of all that extra bagel and cream cheese belly-there is a second miracle developing. 

And this time, I will completely embrace it; nausea, fatigue, extra belly and all.

Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch.

- E.B. White

{7w0d, Round 2}

Early this morning, my regular OB called to personally congratulate and invite us to come in for an ultrasound.  Our regular appointment isn't scheduled until later this week, but as soon as he heard the news he wanted to fit us in immediately, just to see this little miracle for himself.

Our newest tiny human is due September 17,  has a beating heart and is measuring right on track.

The love I felt as I watched the tiny flicker of a heart on the screen was immeasurable.  I'm still so in awe of this blessing, so humbled that God chose to allow me one more life to grow and raise for Him, and so very grateful that we will have a fourth pumpkin this Halloween, an extra place setting this Thanksgiving, and one more stocking this Christmas. 

We are so blessed.  

“Those blessings are sweetest that are won with prayer and worn with thanks.”
-Thomas Goodwin

{Impossible}

After our N.Y. trip was officially over and the news of our failed FET had settled in our hearts, we had no choice but to continue with life as normal.

And because God is good-because we have so many friends and loved ones that prayed for peace with whatever God's decision was for the outcome of our final cycle-the transitioned back was smooth, almost effortless.

We continued to praise God for the opportunity to try to bring our little frozen ones into this world, and thanked Him for the one He chose to give us almost two years ago now.  I prepared to start another semester of school, and we stayed busy with the Holidays, held tightly between family as we celebrated first a day dedicated to being grateful for our blessings, and then the birth of our Savior.  And even among the weight of several real life and even celebrity birth announcements looming,  I'm amazed at how peaceful our hearts remained.

And After the new year passed, full of promises of a fresh start and the feeling that God was going to do something BIG in our lives this year, we remained hopeful for whatever was in store. I didn't know if it would be a change or an event, a good thing or a bad thing, but I knew something was coming.  And I started to prepare my heart by asking God to help me accept whatever it was that came my way, and to open my eyes and ears to whatever He had in store for us.  And I also asked that He would please lessen my desire to have more children if that was His will, or for Him to strengthen my desire and open doors wide if that was the case as well.

Either way, I wanted to know if I should get my hopes up that this something BIG had to do with growing our family, or if I should just be content with my one beautiful blessing and move on.

And on January 10th, just a few days before my 30th birthday, I read a devotional in my book Jesus Calling by Sarah Young that spoke about God's perfect timing, and how we cause so much unnecessary stress on ourselves when we try to make things happen in our time, instead of waiting on God's perfect timing. Emotions welled up inside as I read that insert, knowing how very true it was.  Knowing that even though I don't understand His ways, I can't help but trust that He knows what He's doing.

And then I read the scripture that followed the devotion, in Luke 1:37:

"For with God, nothing shall be impossible."

This has always been one of my favorite verses.  But to hear it on that day, a day when I was just starting to let go of the hope of every having any more children, a day I started to accept that Scarlett Grace may just be my one and only miracle, was once again, God's perfect timing.  Especially when I looked up at the verse just before it, and put the two of them together.

"³⁶And, behold, thy cousin Elisabeth, she hath also conceived a son in her old age: and this is the sixth month with her, who was called barren.³⁷ For with God nothing shall be impossible."

How had I not known before that this verse-this beautiful verse full of promise-proceeds A story of infertility?  Elizabeth, who was barren, was given a son. 

Because with God, nothing is impossible.

It was almost as if God was asking me to keep that hope in my heart.  To not let go.  To trust that with Him, it was possible that someday, someway, we would have more children.

And so I did. 

And two days later, on my thirtieth birthday, my period was a day late. 

I fought against every fiber of my being to not over think this, knowing that even for someone as regular as I am, a late period doesn't mean much.  But the absence of my usual spotting just added to the excitement creeping in, and I couldn't help it.

Was this my something BIG?  Was it even possible? Could I really be...

For the next week, I drank more water than I thought possible, and checked for spotting each time I landed in the bathroom; but it never came.

I built a dam to hold the flood of emotions inside, and talked my self out of the possibility of being pregnant.  After all, it's been years.  Six years, two IUI's, four IVF's, and a FET.  All promising, but only one working. And there was no way I was spending my hard earned money on a rediculously overpriced pregnancy test with those odds.

I tried so very hard to forget about it, but I couldn't. So today, with my period exactly a week late and no spotting in sight, I knew it was time to put my mind at ease and find out either way.    

I couldn't concentrate all day.  Customers were stopping by consistently, and it wasn't until 5:30pm that I was able to make it out of the office with a few errands left to do before church started at 7pm.  My hands were shaking as I placed the pregnancy test on the conveyor belt at the Dollar Tree-because I refuse to spend $14 for a digital at target-and my blood ran cold when I shoved it deep in my giant purse, hiding it from view as I walked outside. 

There was a battle raging in my mind, and it was doubt and fear against hope and promise.

For with God, nothing shall be impossible.

By the time I finished my errands, it was time to head straight to church, and I felt sick knowing I would have to continue to hide the pregnancy test deep in my bag for a few more hours.  The time passed fairly quickly because I adore our Wednesday night Young Mothers and Wives class, but my mind still wandered frequently as I thought of the test burning a hole in my purse.

As soon as I walked in the door to my home, I turned the bath water on for my daughter, and felt my heart skip a beat.  In just a few moments, I'll know.  I undressed her and kissed her as I placed her in the water, and asked my husband to keep an eye on her while I used the bathroom.

I grabbed a cup, ripped open the test, filled the cup, and watched my hands once again shake uncontrollably as I used the tiny dropper included with the test.  And as the dark pink stain crept up the window, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. 

There was a very visible second line before I even placed the test down on the counter.

Pregnant.

For the first time in my life, I knew I was growing a tiny human in my uterus before a nurse or doctor did, and I had absolutely no idea what to do with that sort of information.

My husband had no idea what was happening-he didn't even know my period was late-so I replayed fifty different scenarios in my head, none of them special enough.  How do you tell the love of your life that your going to have another baby?  All we've shared in the past was countless negative tests and a too-low-beta of 11 that eventually became news of a beta of zero that later became news of "maybe your still pregnant because we think we may have made a mistake" to finally a decent beta number with hopes that it would still climb-and it did-but it still was never a strong, solid two line test right out of the gate. 
I just kept staring at it-setting there on the counter-like it was a check for a million dollars.

I left the test out on the bathroom counter, thinking he would come in any moment to see it any second now, and be surprised.  But after a couple of minutes I panicked and hid it in a drawer.  Maybe I should wait?  He'll want to tell everyone, and it's still so early, so maybe I'll wait a month until Valentines day? Or better yet, his birthday.  By then I'll be twelve weeks and then he can tell whoever he wants...
But then I thought that was sort of cruel.  After all, this was his baby too, and not just my blessing to keep a secret.  So I pulled the test back out and placed it back on the bathroom counter.

And then I took it off again.

The bathroom counter? Really? That's the best you can do? It just wasn't enough.  But I couldn't think straight, so I just shoved it under the covers of my bed, and reached for a permanent marker.  Scribbled the words Hey Babe... and placed the pregnancy test under it.  Stared at it.  Sized it up.  Made sure that gorgeous second line was for real, made sure it didn't disappear.  And then under that, I wrote, ready for round two?  and signed it with my usual xoxo. 

Perfect.

I cleaned the bathroom, cleaned our room, made the bed, placed my paper and test art work on the bed.  Then I took it off again.  Does this mean I'm not an infertile any more? Messed up his side of the bed, pulled the covers back a bit and placed it flat on the fitted sheet. I need to call the doctor tomorrow morning. Grabbed the iPad he gave me for my birthday and tried to figure out how to record something on it, but my hands were shaking too much. Maybe I'll be able to have this baby without an epidural. Finally found it, and almost threw up with excitement. I'll have to make sure Scarlett is potty trained so I don't have two in diapers at the same time.  Walked-skipped-ran into the kitchen and as calmly as possible asked him to come kill a spider in our room. We'll need a bigger car. Followed him to the room, fumbling with the iPad to turn on the camera, and caught it just in time.

He saw it.  He stared at it. Asked if I was joking.  Hugged me and mumbled a bunch of things I can't remember.  Then asked who we could tell.  

And it still doesn't feel real.

I always knew it was possible.  I believe with all of my heart that with God, all things are possible.  And all things to God even means allowing a couple-who has been through years of treatments and doctors and shots and medicine and blood work and even a failed FET less than two months ago-like us to conceive naturally.

Scarlett Grace is our miracle, our medical miracle that God chose to give us by using doctors and modern medicine as tools to display His marvelous handiwork.  And while others may say that it was IVF that brought her to us, we know it was the hand of God, the only creator of life that handed her to us, not just the science that He allowed to work. 

But this child? 

Even if you don't believe in God, even if you aren't religious in the tiniest bit, I don't know how anyone could look at this situation and not see Him.  Even when science and medicine failed, where statistics and odds couldn't perform, when the attempts of man fell short, God gave life. 

And this is the sixth month with her, who was called barren.

His perfect timing revealed a plan more beautiful than I could have ever imagined, and a child that only He can receive the glory, honor and praise for. 

I won't tell you that I wasn't paying any attention to my body, that I didn't even know my period was late, or that I just relaxed and it finally happened, because that would be a lie.

I've been very in tune with my body since we started trying to conceive six years ago and I can't help but notice the signs of ovulation.  In fact, I can even tell you without a doubt that this baby was conceived on Christmas, because after years of examining cervical mucous and paying attention to my body, I'm very much aware of my cycle. And even though my memory fails me in so many other ways, I somehow manage to always remember exactly when I ovulated, and exactly when my next period is due, without fail.

And until now, it's always come.  Right on time.  With spotting occuring about three days before.

 However, there was nothing done extra to help this along, either.  I am not at my healthiest weight-my resolution was to kick these extra ten pounds I've gained back since Scarlett started slowing down breastfeeding and finally stopped completely in October-and with school and work I haven't found the time to get back the fabulously toned yoga body I had before I was pregnant with her.  I didn't eat differently, take any vitamins, invest in acupuncture, order magic potions, or lie in bed with my legs up in the air for five minutes.  I never charted or took ovulation prediction tests, either.

Because those tests are just as expensive as pregnancy tests.

I'm telling you, this baby is all God.

We are humbled, excited, nervous, thrilled, and beyond grateful for this miracle.  It's still early, so we are waiting to share this news with everyone until we've seen a heartbeat on a fuzzy black screen.  And I probably won't publish this post until then, because there are some very dear friends reading my blog that I'd rather tell in person before this goes public.  But this sort of news is difficult to keep in side, so I'm not sure how much longer we can wait.

God heard our prayers and has answered them a second time.  He's granted the desires of our heart and given us what we were told was impossible. 

Because with Him, impossible doesn't exist.

² O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.¹¹ Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;¹² To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.

Psalms 30: 2,11-12 (KJV)

{Always}

I think it would have been one boy and one girl.

They day after we transferred our three amazing embryos that gave us our one Scarlett Grace, we received a phone call letting us know that out of the four embryos they were watching, two had made it to freeze.  And at that exact moment that our nurse spoke those precious words, that old school country Collin Raye song, One Boy, One Girl came onto the satellite radio, and I knew. 

It's not like I rely on signs or the supernatural, but this was just a little too obvious.

And in the years since, I've prayed for them.  Asked God to grant the desires of my heart if it's in His will to do so, and that He would at least prepare my heart to handle it if it wasn't.

But the pain was still enough to stop my heart for a moment anyway. 

While driving in the car on my way to make a deposit at the bank for work, the phone rang, and I recognized the area code.  It wasn't a long phone call, no more than a few seconds, lasting just long enough for the nurse to let me know that she'd received my lab work and she was sorry, but my beta was negative.

Somehow, through the numbness, I was able to whisper thankyousomuch before I hung up.

And then I cried.

In the moments that followed, I couldn't stop the flow of salty tears and painful thoughts. No, she's wrong.  They told me that Scarlett was a negative beta too, but they were wrong.  This has to be a mistake, this was supposed to work.  It took us forever to save up the money, the cycle went so smoothly, we flew into a hurricane, I've prayed so hard, everyone has prayed so hard.

I wanted these babies more than anything.

Why can't I just have my babies?

There was anger.  There was fear.  Hatred, bitterness, jealousy, rage, helplessness, claustrophobia, denial, and every other nasty and deceitful emotion I never knew I had in me.  Everything I thought I had moved passed came floating right back up to the surface with one quick phone call.

Maybe I thought I'd become invincible, that I'd beat infertility once and this would never happen again.  But the same feeling I had the first three times I'd experienced a negative cycle came fast, like a raw and open wound, and suddenly I was right back there. 

I am infertile, and they can't even tell me why.

The hatred and disappointment I felt for my unexplained, broken body was thick and furious.  The anger burned hot as I contemplated the unfairness of being someone who will never get to take a urine test after a missed period to determine pregnancy, I'll always have to have my blood drawn and receive my fate from a nurse on the other end of the phone.  Being with my husband like any other person won't produce a baby, mine have to be created in a petri dish after several rounds of hormones and injections are administered, leaving behind countless bruises, dark blood stains, and costly medical bills. 

It's just not fair.

But almost as quickly as it came, my heart cooled, and I could breathe.  Pulling into a parking spot at the back, I dried my eyes and sent out a massive text to anyone and everyone who knew about our cycle, and the healing process began as a lighter shade of sadness and grief replaced the much uglier previous emotions.

I recognized immediately that my feelings were from Satan.  All of those hateful, distorted, awful things that had passed through my head weren't from God, they were straight from the enemy himself.  The helplessness, the crippling fear, the hatred for my body's inability to hold onto a baby even after the doctor places it exactly where it should be were all thoughts that were far from the peace and trust and understanding that God would give.

So instead, I sat in my car with the door cracked open, and I chose-against every fiber in my being-to praise Him.  And as I rambled off the weak list in my head, thanking Him for safe travels, for protection from the storm, for a successful thaw of both embryos, for Scarlett and my husband and my family and everything good in my life, it felt almost fake. 

Forced.

But it was better than the alternative.

And as I continued to count my blessings-thought it felt as if I were grasping at straws-I was reminded that in midst of this dark moment, it was absolutely necessary to detach my feelings from my circumstances.  God is no less good because I just received the call that crushed my dreams, my plans, my way.  He is still the same exact God that gave me my Scarlett, even after a too low initial beta of eleven and then a second beta of zero.  He is still so full of love, grace, and mercy, even thought I wasn't given the answer I wanted to receive.

I prayed.  My family prayed.  So many of you prayed.  And because of that, I know this is right.  God doesn't make mistakes, and He heard every single one of our petitions, heard all of our cries, and listened intently to every plea.  And for reasons I may never know in this life, He said no.

I'm sad-naturally-but I don't think He minds. He understands grief.  He gets it and He's not mad.  

I'm not sure where to go from here.  I never allowed myself to think that far ahead, never planned on a negative beta.  I spent all of my time and energy thinking positive and taking baby steps, one foot in front of the other.  And now that I'm here, on the other side, it feel as if I'm standing in the middle of an open field out in the middle of nowhere, with no map, no directions, just a whole lot of grass and some pretty big mountains.

And I have no idea where to go, this was our last try.

These two frozen babies were all we had left.

Paul tells us in Philippians that he had learned to be content with whatsoever he was given in any situation; but in First Samuel we see that Hannah prayed so fervently for a child-pouring out her heart in the abundance of complaint and grief-that the priest thought she was drunk.

So which is it?

I don't know yet. 

Maybe it's both.  It has to be both. But it certainly gives me something to work on. 

God can still give us a baby naturally, I know He can.  I've seen it happen so many times to so many amazing ladies that have been where I am.  Or maybe He'll choose to open up our hearts to adoption, something that I think is wonderful but hasn't yet resounded with us. And It's even possible that Scarlett is the only child He wants us to have. 

But I really don't think that's it. 

We'll just have to pray for guidance and direction as to where He'd have us go next; and in the meantime I'll continue my list of praises and blessings, because there just isn't any other way to survive, to push down those ugly thoughts from the enemy that threaten to bubble back up.  And I'll rejoice that though He choose to say no this time, He said yes last time.

And let me tell you, those giant brown eyes she stole from her Daddy are the best pain relief ever. Every time I look into them, I can't help but think-even while mending a broken and battered heart-that He is so good.

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Always.

“God, who foresaw your tribulation, has specially formed you to go through it, not without pain but without stain.”

—C. S. Lewis

{New York}

They called it the perfect storm.

Had we chosen any other clinic in New York, we would have been affected, our cycle delayed, our dreams crushed.  But God chose to move my California Doctor to Syracuse, city up on a hill, just a few hours short of the worst part of the storm and completely unaffected by anything other than heavy rain and high winds. And though the second half of our trip was spent in Manhattan where the devastation was much closer, we didn't arrive until a few days later when the power was back up and all was safe.

God protected us.

This was a difficult post to write.

I've started and ended it several times, never satisfied with the final result.  I'm sitting with my heart torn in a million pieces as I'm dying with anticipation for the beta results that I'll receive in the next few hours, amazed that we traveled into New York just in time for a devastating hurricane, excited to possibly be pregnant, scared  I may not be, and full of sorrow for those affected by this awful storm. 

I'm in awe of God's power and the fact that He placed us safely in exactly the right place, so that instead of fearing for our lives on October 29th, we instead transferred two beautiful embryos back into my uterus where they belong inside a beautiful, peaceful, and calm fertility clinic.  While others closeby were in the midst of complete terror and chaos, my dreams were coming true, just an arms reach away from Sandy.

We arrived back home safely last night.  We spent our time in New York watching Scarlett Grace fall in love with the indoor water park at our resort near Syracuse, and then we celebrated her 18 month birthday walking around central park and the zoo.  The trip was perfect, the thaw and transfer went smooth, and I'll find out shortly if I've brought home more than just a few trinkets of souvenirs from our stay.  But I'm struggling to focus on the fact that I may or may not be pregnant, when there is so much else to pray for right now. 

So many others who have lost so much, while we enjoyed our vacation.

Right now, I'm thankful that we were kept safe, but my heart is breaking for those I know that fell victim to Sandy.

There are so many praying for us, so many who have kept us in their thoughts over these past several weeks.  I've received countless texts, emails and phone calls-both asking about our safety and extending their thoughts about our FET-and I feel so incredibly blessed.  But I also feel selfish, because through this experience, I've realized how much my prayer life for others is lacking.  With so many praying for me, have I been praying for them?  We all go through difficult situations, and have I been so wrapped up in my own selfish prayers that I have missed out on the blessing of praying for so many others?

So with each text that comes my way today, with each email that lands in my mailbox, and with each phone call that I receive, I'm challenging myself to pray for those sending prayers my way.  Baby or no baby, we have seen God's awesome power and we have been held safely in His hands, and it's time now to give this situation of our FET back to Him, prepare our hearts for either answer, and instead focus on the needs of others.  Because we know that God is good-our refuge and our salvation-and He is able to calm any storm.

Weather it's in the form of infertility, or named Sandy.

The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms

Deuteronomy 33:27 (KJV)

{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)

{Where I Am}

I'm no longer allowed to make promises of pictures, upcoming Etsy shops and more frequent posting, because I have serious issues with following through.

It's embarrassing, really.

I was speaking with a close friend yesterday, sharing how I wanted so badly to write an entry that would cover everything that's been going on lately, but I can't find the right pace to start. I'm really disappointed in myself for falling so far behind, failing miserably to update the friends that have been so faithful to offer prayer and support during the most crucial times of this journey. 

She simply told me to start with where I am, because that's the most important place. 

And that, I can do.

Today, I am in my third week of taking birth control pills.  I'll never get used to the fact that it's part of any treatment cycle to begin with these tiny-yet-powerful little hormone pills, especially since they are the arch-enemy of everything I've spent almost six years trying to make happen.  But I'm told they not only play a huge part in regulating the cycle, but that they also calm down all internal hormones so that once the medication is stopped, my body will be ready for some serious action; in the form of a tiny human or two in utero.

Plus they've done wonders for my skin, so I've been able to look past the slightly excessive hunger and occasional raging hormonal episodes.

And in less than a week, I have an appointment for a baseline ultrasound and some STAT blood tests that I just found out really can't actually be ran STAT because I live in a fairly large city that for some reason is incapable of running anything STAT.  So although I have strict and impossible instructions to somehow get the results from northern California to the clinic in New York in a four hour time period-because New York is three hours ahead of us and cuts into our already impossible STAT timeline-we'll just have to wait and see what happens. 

That's been our first bump in the road.  Well that, and the fact that I was misinformed of a few costs along the way and didn't figure any out of town-and out of pocket-monitoring into our already tight budget, but it's not the end of the world.

Had this been happening during our last IVF cycle, I would be loosing my mind right now.  I'd be overwhelmed and frustrated with the system, feeling lost and out of control while dealing with a clinic that is in a completely different time zone, seemingly worlds away.  And while I have to be honest and admit that I was most definitely flustered by these recent findings of added costs and lack of STAT testing available, none of it comes close to the life-altering desperation I felt over simple detours that were faced in previous cycles.

This time, it's different.

I haven't changed; I'm still very much OCD. But I committed to give these frozen babies and this cycle to God back when Scarlett was first born.  I acknowledged to Him that I really wanted to bring these babies home someday to join our family, but that I now understand that His timing is perfect, His way is prefect, and His will is perfect. That doesn't mean I haven't quickly picked the burden back up and carried it around for a while before handing it back to Him again, or that I won't experience sadness and disappointment if I don't achieve a pregnancy from this FET; it just means that this time around, I have a better understanding of how God works. 

I can't will this to work.  The doctors can't make this work.  No one here on earth has any control over any aspect of this cycle; not over the timing of STAT testing, not over the unexpected costs of monitoring, not over the ability of these two miracle embryos to thaw successfully, and not over the outcome.  I have no control, the doctor's have  no control, we have no control.

Realizing this-truly understanding my helplessness in this matter-actually soothes me. 

God knows what will happen, knows how everything will play out.  He alone is in control, and though it's a constant battle to remind myself of this truth as the enemy throws darts in our path, I refuse to fall hard.  All I can do is pray that God's will is done, that I am given the grace to sustain me through whatever happens, and that no matter the result, the honor and glory would be brought to God for everything He's done.

God is good.  If this cycle works, He is good.  If this cycle doesn't work, He is still good. 

I want these babies so bad; both of them.  My thoughts are already consumed with names, one for a boy, one for a girl.  And though I don't let myself wonder there to often, I have thought about the future if this doesn't work.  The possibility of having only one child instead of the four that I've always dreamed of.  The very real probability that the odds are more than against us in this matter, and that tiny voice in the back of my mind whispers that I shouldn't even get my hopes up. But when my thoughts wonder to that place too far in the future, out of reach and too dim to see, I pull them back. 

And that's where I am now. 

I'm humbled and so very grateful for the outreach I've already received during the short time that I've had our FET schedule posted on this blog.  Knowing that there are so many already praying for these babies, for our trip, our family, and our cycle is almost overwhelming.  I know that God is listening and He hears every single one of those prayers, and I'm convinced that they have the power to guide His decisions because He is merciful. 

I'm also thankful that I serve a God that once lived on this earth in human flesh so that He could understand the fear, lack of control and anxiousness that consumes me at times; though I know that He longs for me to fully trust what He is about to do. And of course I also know that no matter what happens, He's never far away; promising to always be ready and willing to meet me, anywhere, anytime.

Right where I am.

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.

 Isaiah 26:3 (KJV)