Friends, if I’ve been completely MIA all summer long, it’s for a very good and very tiny reason. I am officially 11 weeks pregnant in what I can only describe as a total and utter miracle of God. Yesterday we sat in the OB’s office after having been released from our fertility doctor for our first graduate visit. And there our tiny baby was on the ultrasound, literally bouncing around with a happy little heartbeat. We have never been so in awe. And so now after weeks of nailbiting and worrying, I’m finally feeling at peace to spill the beans.
It was Memorial Day when we drove home from Carlton Landing, exhausted from moving and getting settled. I had a cold and had been taking tons of medicine. My dad was in the hospital for heart issues, and I was feeling emotionally and physically icky. And then I started thinking about when my last period was. That evening, on a whim, I took a pregnancy test. Shockingly it came up positive immediately with a super dark line like I’ve never seen before. I promptly threw the test down and sat in the bathroom in stunned silence. We weren’t even trying. We weren’t even doing fertility treatments. And then I burst into tears. Fear bubbled up into my throat because I have walked this pregnancy road five times before, with only one good outcome. How could this possibly go well, I wondered? I prepared myself for the worst.
Later in the week, I went in for the first of three rounds of bloodwork. I knew how this would go – the levels would be low, abysmal, just like they always had. I started crying in the car and I pulled over and started writing down a prayer – all the hopes and fears I had. I also wrote an entire list of how I visualized an amazing pregnancy happening. Joy before fear. Happy ultrasounds. Unanxious doctor visits. Good news. LOTS of nausea (because it is, after all, a good sign). And I poured my heart out onto that page and then tucked those hopes and dreams into a folder of my planner.
A little later, the nurse called with my first round of bloodwork. “Your levels are AWESOME,” she said. The next round was even better. And then at six weeks, the doctor, had us start on progesterone injections just to be on the safe side (administered nightly by Nurse Simon, right in the ol’ booty – if you need someone to give you a shot, he’s amazingly proficient). Every single visit was positive and amazing, despite my superstitious nature from previous failures.
And now here we are at 11 weeks, and my gratitude is unending. This is a total miracle, plain and simple. LIFE is a miracle. God has created something amazing – beauty from our ashes. Joy from our pain.
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