Trust. I've had a number of people tell me to just trust Jesus as I go through this difficult time of being pregnant after multiple losses. To trust Jesus and not be afraid.
Sometimes I wonder what it is I'm supposed to be trusting him for. Because I trust that he loves me. I trust that he has deep care for what happens to me. I trust that he works all things for the good of those who love him. But my fear - my fear is that my baby will die. And he hasn't promised me that they won't. He hasn't promised me that things will turn out exactly how I want them to. He's promised me eternity and that I will be reunited with my little ones there, but not that I will get to see them grow and learn here. He's promised comfort in grief, but not that I won't go through grief.
I do believe that somehow it is possible to be so secure in his love and goodness that we are unshaken by the ideas or reality of what this world can do to us, but I don't know how to get there from here. The scars of my losses run so deep that they are ingrained on my soul. And he's done a lot of healing there, but the edge of fear remains, waxing and waning with the events of each day.
Here's what I do know: perfect love casts out fear. There is no fear in my heart of punishment, recrimination, shame, or his disappointment in me. He knows my fear. He knows exactly how large or small it is. He knows the form of it, the shape, the intricacies of it. He knows me. He knows my failings, my weakness, my burden, and he doesn't frown on me, scold me, or grow frustrated. He sits with me. He loves me. Even when my fear is at its greatest, overwhelming me, striving to keep me from any semblance of peace, he holds me and refuses to let go. His grace is sufficient for me.
"As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust." Psalm 103:13-14
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Strength for Today and Bright Hope for Tomorrow
I wanted to be writing here regularly, but then something happened and it was the only thing on my mind and the only thing I could conceive of writing about, but not something I was ready to share.
The day after I wrote my last post, I found out I was pregnant. I was convinced that we were going to go through another loss. I was sure the home test wasn't dark enough to be a viable pregnancy, much like most of my previous pregnancies. But I called my RE to let her know, and she of course, told me to come in for blood work. I kept doing home tests and saw the line get darker, but I still wasn't convinced that it was dark enough to indicate something good.
Before going in for the blood test, I did some checking to see what were average hcg numbers for how far along I was. I found the range could be pretty much anywhere from 30 to 300. I knew that at 30 I would still be worried, it wouldn't feel safe enough. I sent a half formed thought to God, "If it's 80, I'll feel like maybe this is good, maybe this one is going somewhere."
After a few very anxious hours waiting for that phone call, we finally heard. "Congrats, you're pregnant!" Um, well I knew that. That's why I called you remember? I need numbers! "Oh, ok, I can get those for you." Yes, please! "81.6." God hears even my unofficially prayed prayers and cares about them.
We did the blood test two more times to make sure the numbers were rising as they should, and irregardless of my anxiety and fear-wracked body, they went up perfectly each time.
The next hurdle was waiting a week and half until we could do an ultrasound. It would be right at the six week mark, so we knew there was a decent chance that we would see the heartbeat, but it could be iffy still. That became my next prayer. When we got in there, I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen, I was so scared of what it would show, and I knew I wouldn't really be able to identify anything anyway. When the tech said, "See that flickering? That's the heartbeat," I'm sure my own heart gave a little jump. There was nothing but a tiny gray oval up in the corner, but sure enough it was flickering away. I cried for probably the zillionth time in this pregnancy, but for the first time they were happy tears.
Our little one was tucked away against the edge making it hard to get a measurement, but when she did, it was six weeks, one day. Perfect.
I'm not sure the second ultrasound was any less nerve-wracking, but again, there was the heartbeat, going at just the rate it should be. This time the tech was having an even harder time getting a good picture in order to measure, and eventually she gave up and just did the best she could. When we talked with the doctor afterward, she had that concerned look on her face as she told us the baby wasn't showing the growth it should. Instead of measuring another week ahead, the measurements were reflecting only a few days growth. Aaron explained how both techs had had a difficult time getting the measurements, and was calmly confident that was the only issue. I, of course, was not so calm. I knew there was a good chance of this, and that the strong heartbeat was a really good sign, but I struggled a lot that week worrying about how my baby was doing and if they weren't growing properly.
At this point, word had spread a little farther in our church than we had wanted it to, but it also meant that that many more people were praying for us. I was thrilled to be able to visit the weekly prayer group and tell them how our little one was measuring exactly right after our third ultrasound.
Our fourth ultrasound allowed us to see our baby give a full body wiggle, which prompted more happy tears.
Our fifth and last one was this past week. This one was hard. There was a lot of anxiety leading up to it. This one would be after our tenth week - the week in which we lost Sayuri, our only "late" loss. Sayuri left us knowing how easily a viable pregnancy could change. How quickly hope could end. The fear of going through another loss like that hung over us (and still does, to be honest). I went into this last scan so nervous that we would see that stillness again.
The night before, I realized how on edge I'd been through the past several weeks, not constantly crazy scared, but never really able to relax and enjoy this. I wasn't sure if I'd had any truly happy moments in this pregnancy. I poured out my tears to Jesus. I asked that when we saw our baby move around a few times in the next scan that this burden of fear I'd been carrying would be lifted.
Our beautiful little one wiggled. And wiggled. Arms and legs just going, they could hardly stay still. My tears were quiet as I tried to stay still to keep the whole screen from jumping, and I felt the happiest I had since that first positive test. I finally felt like celebrating.
I'm still nervous. The imprint of repeated losses hasn't left me, and there are a few things that keep bringing up occasional anxious moments. Our first scan also discovered that I have a sub-chorionic hemorrhage, a bleed created during implantation between the sac and the lining. It's a pretty common happening in pregnancy and often does nothing at all, or clears up completely, but it can cause bleeding and also raises the risk of miscarriage a little bit, since if it is large or in the wrong location it can interfere with the baby's blood supply. Mine has gotten smaller since first found, which is a good sign, but continues to hang around being annoying.
I'm hitting the stage where the exhaustion and disgusting nausea I've been feeling might start to subside, and while it would be nice not to feel so miserable, I know I will struggle with worrying that it means my pregnancy is ending.
God has been so good to me in this. He has answered my prayers again and again, has given me moments of peace, words of encouragement at just the right time, and many reminders of just how much he loves me. I trust that he will continue to do this, and that every week my fear will keep being overcome by his perfect love, bringing me in and surrounding me with his all encompassing grace.
Please pray with me for this little one, for freedom from fear, and celebrate with me, praising God for the miracle he has brought to us.
The day after I wrote my last post, I found out I was pregnant. I was convinced that we were going to go through another loss. I was sure the home test wasn't dark enough to be a viable pregnancy, much like most of my previous pregnancies. But I called my RE to let her know, and she of course, told me to come in for blood work. I kept doing home tests and saw the line get darker, but I still wasn't convinced that it was dark enough to indicate something good.
Before going in for the blood test, I did some checking to see what were average hcg numbers for how far along I was. I found the range could be pretty much anywhere from 30 to 300. I knew that at 30 I would still be worried, it wouldn't feel safe enough. I sent a half formed thought to God, "If it's 80, I'll feel like maybe this is good, maybe this one is going somewhere."
After a few very anxious hours waiting for that phone call, we finally heard. "Congrats, you're pregnant!" Um, well I knew that. That's why I called you remember? I need numbers! "Oh, ok, I can get those for you." Yes, please! "81.6." God hears even my unofficially prayed prayers and cares about them.
We did the blood test two more times to make sure the numbers were rising as they should, and irregardless of my anxiety and fear-wracked body, they went up perfectly each time.
The next hurdle was waiting a week and half until we could do an ultrasound. It would be right at the six week mark, so we knew there was a decent chance that we would see the heartbeat, but it could be iffy still. That became my next prayer. When we got in there, I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen, I was so scared of what it would show, and I knew I wouldn't really be able to identify anything anyway. When the tech said, "See that flickering? That's the heartbeat," I'm sure my own heart gave a little jump. There was nothing but a tiny gray oval up in the corner, but sure enough it was flickering away. I cried for probably the zillionth time in this pregnancy, but for the first time they were happy tears.
Our little one was tucked away against the edge making it hard to get a measurement, but when she did, it was six weeks, one day. Perfect.
I'm not sure the second ultrasound was any less nerve-wracking, but again, there was the heartbeat, going at just the rate it should be. This time the tech was having an even harder time getting a good picture in order to measure, and eventually she gave up and just did the best she could. When we talked with the doctor afterward, she had that concerned look on her face as she told us the baby wasn't showing the growth it should. Instead of measuring another week ahead, the measurements were reflecting only a few days growth. Aaron explained how both techs had had a difficult time getting the measurements, and was calmly confident that was the only issue. I, of course, was not so calm. I knew there was a good chance of this, and that the strong heartbeat was a really good sign, but I struggled a lot that week worrying about how my baby was doing and if they weren't growing properly.
At this point, word had spread a little farther in our church than we had wanted it to, but it also meant that that many more people were praying for us. I was thrilled to be able to visit the weekly prayer group and tell them how our little one was measuring exactly right after our third ultrasound.
Our fourth ultrasound allowed us to see our baby give a full body wiggle, which prompted more happy tears.
Our fifth and last one was this past week. This one was hard. There was a lot of anxiety leading up to it. This one would be after our tenth week - the week in which we lost Sayuri, our only "late" loss. Sayuri left us knowing how easily a viable pregnancy could change. How quickly hope could end. The fear of going through another loss like that hung over us (and still does, to be honest). I went into this last scan so nervous that we would see that stillness again.
The night before, I realized how on edge I'd been through the past several weeks, not constantly crazy scared, but never really able to relax and enjoy this. I wasn't sure if I'd had any truly happy moments in this pregnancy. I poured out my tears to Jesus. I asked that when we saw our baby move around a few times in the next scan that this burden of fear I'd been carrying would be lifted.
Our beautiful little one wiggled. And wiggled. Arms and legs just going, they could hardly stay still. My tears were quiet as I tried to stay still to keep the whole screen from jumping, and I felt the happiest I had since that first positive test. I finally felt like celebrating.
I'm still nervous. The imprint of repeated losses hasn't left me, and there are a few things that keep bringing up occasional anxious moments. Our first scan also discovered that I have a sub-chorionic hemorrhage, a bleed created during implantation between the sac and the lining. It's a pretty common happening in pregnancy and often does nothing at all, or clears up completely, but it can cause bleeding and also raises the risk of miscarriage a little bit, since if it is large or in the wrong location it can interfere with the baby's blood supply. Mine has gotten smaller since first found, which is a good sign, but continues to hang around being annoying.
I'm hitting the stage where the exhaustion and disgusting nausea I've been feeling might start to subside, and while it would be nice not to feel so miserable, I know I will struggle with worrying that it means my pregnancy is ending.
God has been so good to me in this. He has answered my prayers again and again, has given me moments of peace, words of encouragement at just the right time, and many reminders of just how much he loves me. I trust that he will continue to do this, and that every week my fear will keep being overcome by his perfect love, bringing me in and surrounding me with his all encompassing grace.
Please pray with me for this little one, for freedom from fear, and celebrate with me, praising God for the miracle he has brought to us.
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