What hurts the most.

It’s a hard place when the things you know to be lies start to feel true.

I feel so…forgotten.

I feel other things, but that’s the one that hurts the most right now.

Chris read to me from Psalm 13 last night and it resonated with me…

1 How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
² How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

³ Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
⁴ and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

⁵ But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
⁶ I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

Bring me to that place Lord. Place songs of praise on my lips. I am so hurt and scared.

Even so, blessed am I.

7/26/2015 – unfinished

I last sat down to write just short of two months ago. I lot of life has happened in that amount of time. We’ve moved and settled into a new home, welcomed a baby nephew into our family, started visiting new churches, and put probably 10,000 miles on our vehicles with all of the to and fro traveling we’ve been doing. {Okay…maybe 10,000 is a bit of an exaggeration. Math estimation has never been my strong suit.}

So much is new, and yet…so much is the same.

Part of my hiatus from writing has been because of the busyness. That excuse worked through about July. Since then I have been bouncing around quite a bit, but there’s also been a lot of lazing around. So this second part of my hiatus has been because I feel…stuck. Like I’m not even sure what to say, and certainly not sure how to move forward.

We’ve moved everything we had from one town to another…except for a beautiful crib that had to stay in my in-laws spare closet. That was a ‘put on your big girl panties’ moment if I’ve ever had one.

We’ve started having to answer the question of “So do you guys have kids?”…and it makes me feel so anxious. While I know that ‘no’ is the socially appropriate answer, it feels weird to say that after all that we’ve been through. I have mothered little ones, in my own unique way…but there’s no short, easy answer for that.

We’ve been to an appointment with the fertility doctor to talk about IVF…and we still haven’t been able to get past the sticker-shock of knowing that we are going to need at least 15k to move forward with that route. {Why we would even be considering IVF is a different post in an of itself.} Add to that the credit card that is no longer paid off and it’s all quite overwhelming.

We’ve fallen in love, and watched my family fall in love, with just the most precious little guy. I thought I was prepared for him coming, but it turns out there are just aspects of it that couldn’t be prepared for. That’s what loving big does I think…it opens the heart up to all of the big feels, which unfortunately, includes some struggle. It’s not something I particularly care to write about I think, at least right now. All that matters is that I love that baby with all of my heart.

 

Beautiful Words.

I came across a shop on Etsy with beautiful typography & watercolor art by Franchesca Cox as I was searching for some sort of print I could purchase to frame with the pictures of our precious little ones. So many of her prints resonated with me…beautiful words that captured much of what my heart & mind haven’t quite been able to fully form as of late. Upon a bit more investigation, I found that many of her works are based off of the words of Angela Miller, an author who writes about life and the grief she experienced after the loss of her child.

Franchesca creates these lovely watercolor word collages…I’ve decided having one made for our little ones would be just what I’ve been looking for.

Here are a few of the quotes that encouraged & validated me…there are a few others I’ll share in upcoming posts.

~ A loss of life does not mean a loss of love.

~ A mother is not defined by the number of children you can see, but by the love she holds in her heart.

~ Mostly I am broken, but today I am thankful you were ever mine.

~ So breathe Momma, Keep breathing. Believe, Mama, Keep believing. Fight, Momma, Keep fighting for this truth to uproot the lies in your heart. You didn’t fail. Not even a little.

~ She wept, because life was so full. Of hurts. Of joys. Of the madness that danced between the two.

All so beautiful and true.

Blessed am I.

Back in the saddle…er, stirrups…again.

Our path back to our 2nd transfer was a bit of a wild one. I can’t even begin to remember all of it, not with all of the life that’s happened between then and now, but I thought it would be worth a bit of time to write about how I ended up back in the stirrups again. 😉

Our first transfer was the end of February; received our negative beta in early March. We took a few weeks to grieve & process, then began seriously discussing going back for our other two little ones. Sure, we were nervous…a little gun-shy…but our general thought was that a) they were already ours, b) we were ready to meet them & hopefully get pregnant & c) it was better to get on with it so that we would know one way or the other and could have the summer to make the necessary plans one way or the other.

The two main issues were coming up with the money for the second transfer and Chris’ job. He had been looking for a job for right at a year, knowing that his government contract job would be going away at some point in the near future. It turned out to be much sooner than we had planned, and at one point we had about 10 days notice of his job ending. He had a few interviews right around this time, but it was stressful, to say the least. Of course, in typical awesome timing, we were waiting to hear if he would have an extension on his job literally right as we were reaching our point of no-return with moving forward with the transfer. There were a lot of feelings…a lot of confusion & wanting to do what was right…but God answered some very specific questions with some very clear answers, so we forged ahead. Within days we had begun the shots and Chris had accepted a great new job. Oh yes, and we found out that the transfer would cost less than half of what it had the first time. {Don’t even ask me how…my only answer is God!}

My medicine regimen was much simpler the second time around…no lupron {the little stomach shots}, straight to estrogen shots every 3rd day, then progesterone once my lining was up to where it should be. We didn’t have any delays like last time, although my lining was barely at the 7 we needed it to be. {The architecture, however, looked beautiful…or so they told me. Weird, I know.} The shots weren’t terrible, I didn’t get as many knots as last time around.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, we weren’t as open with telling others about this transfer. We didn’t lie if people asked, but didn’t offer it up so freely either. I put in to take a couple of days off of work, and before we knew it the big day had arrived.

Since we knew what to expect, the transfer itself was a pretty calm event. I didn’t drink as much water as last time, so there was no need for a bedpan. 😉 We didn’t have to wait as long before the procedure; we knew the drill. We were relieved to learn that both little ones had survived the thaw, although they did caution us that one of them had gotten a bit frosty. At the time of transfer the doctor assured us that both had grown well in the short amount of time since they were thawed, so we left with hearts full of hope for both little ones.

We enjoyed a quiet evening at home, and I spent the next day laying around. I definitely struggled with feeling more anxious and emotional {there was an unexpected cry fest because I wanted to take Huxley for a ride in the car but couldn’t get him in myself…ridiculous, I know} and we both struggled with opening our hearts fully to the process. Chris started his new job, we began to consider the logistics of moving. Life stayed busy, as it usually is for us…with the little ones never far from our minds or prayers.

As for the rest…well I’ve written about that. Like the others, we lost them somewhere in those nine days of waiting. And then it was baby shower time and Mother’s day and time to take down my classroom & prepare for the end of school. Life goes on I guess.

That’s the saddest part I think. Just like that, our life goes on…but without them, and without a hope of holding them here. But for grace it would all seem quite hopeless.

But for grace. It can be found in the most unexpected of places. When your feet are awkwardly propped in those awful stirrups. When the pregnancy test only shows one line. When your heart is broken. Sweet, precious grace is there for me in all.

Blessed am I.

 

We’re going to be okay.

Well.

I want to write, but I don’t know what to say.

I could write about how under attack our marriage feels at times. Infertility & loss can feel so isolating, even between a husband and wife. Thank God those moments are the exception rather than the rule, but I understand how without a lot of prayer & diligence it could all start to feel very overwhelming. I keep quoting “Do not gloat over us enemy!” {from Micah 7} and singing this powerful song about standing in strength when the rain falls…even daring the rain to fall harder. {Except….let’s not let it rain harder right now. Okay then.}

Or I could write about how I swing between feeling numb or with emotions lurking just right under the surface. We took a kindergarten field trip today to Lowe’s for a building project and I had to fight to keep from crying while I watched the kids happily hammering away. I don’t even know why.

I’m so perplexed by God and how He could call us to do this knowing that this would be the outcome that I can’t even begin to know what else to say about that. I feel like I have a big fat question mark hanging over my head when I think about what in the world we are going to do moving forward, so obviously there’s nothing else to say there.

Or how, in spite of the pain & disappointment, how much joy & honor…pride & wonder I feel when I think about what God has done in our life over the last year and a half. It seems as though it all would be diametrically opposed, but somehow it’s not.

Maybe I could try to explain how what Chris really wanted/needed, which was to limit our openness with others about this second transfer, has turned out to be quite the opposite of what I needed when it was all said and done. He felt like he had to tell and retell others about the outcome of the first transfer, but I feel like the bulk of that really fell to me. {Well, I had to tell most of the people who we know and interact with regularly, he had to answer questions from a bunch of randoms that he randomly told.} So this time around, he has had less people to tell and I’ve basically had the same amount, only spread out over a longer period of time. And because they didn’t know the transfer was happening in the first place, it feels as though most are either less interested or afraid to give much of a response when I share the news. {Not to say I haven’t received beautiful shows of support from those closest to me…they have been wonderful and so caring.} I don’t know. It’s just lonely. I’m just not sure where I fit these days I guess, and it’s hard. People don’t know what to say to me, and I don’t know what to say to myself.

I’d rather not write about how I am really out of excuses and need to get serious about losing some weight. Between eating my feelings and some weight I’d like to blame on the fertility meds {even though I have no idea if they are to blame at all}, it’s not helping how I feel about myself.

So yes. Still sorting. Still processing. Still scratching my head and crying in the car and buying books about grief & pregnancy loss on my kindle because somehow this transfer loss feels more like a miscarriage than the first one did. I had little lives inside me and they died inside me, and that’s just really devastating to think about. 

But we’re going to be okay. And then one day we’ll be more than okay.

With God on my side, it can’t turn out any other way.

Blessed am I.

 

 

Momma’s Day.

Last Mother’s Day we had just entered matching & had received our first match opportunity. It was an exciting time of possibility and hope. A year later, we have not only been matched with and transferred our 4 little ones, but we’ve lost them as well.

It stings.

With both Mother’s Day & the baby shower for my bro & sister-in-law coming up, I didn’t want to take a risk of being caught of guard with a negative beta…so I took a few pregnancy tests this past week. All negative. I handled it pretty well {minus one convo with my mom that was a bit teary} and held out hope that the beta would be positive.

No thanks to a series of unfortunate events / timing after my blood test on Friday, Chris & I were not able to receive the news together…and it did not set us up for success in handling this grief together. Although the loss was seemingly similar to the last transfer, it hit us both differently this time. Chris was angry & wanted to internalize…refusing to even eat the brownies that a friend dropped off because they might have been baked with pity. I was hurting yet trying to be strong for the events to come, all while feeling increasingly isolated. We were much less open this time around, a bit more guarded, and I found myself lacking the support & encouragement from others that I didn’t even totally know I needed until I was in the middle of needing it.

Saturday started rough {seriously grouchy husband}, then got easier, then ended rough {seriously emotional wife}. Although there were a lot of emotions lurking right under the surface, the shower was really nice & baby Miles was honored and celebrated with our whole hearts. Staying focused on him helped me from thinking about what wasn’t to be for me…I can’t wait to meet & love on him.

But I guess one can only keep their feelings in check for so long…especially when frustration & confusion reigns and there’s hurt between a husband and wife. By the time we got home on Saturday night I felt unheard and alone in my grief…which resulted in a lot of tears and a panic attack. Or hyperventilating. Whatever it was I couldn’t catch my breath and it concluded with Chris rocking me on the floor of the laundry room praying with me until I could finally breath normally. The crying took longer to get under control. Chris and I were able to talk & get on the same page, I called my momma so she could tell me it would all be okay, and eventually it was okay enough that I could go to bed calmly.

Which brings us to today. Mother’s Day. I had planned on pushing through church because there were no less {but potentially more, I lost count} than 5 of my friends having babies dedicated. In the end, we decided to stay home & sleep in, then went to a local breakfast spot to drink endless cups of coffee and watch the rain. We wore scrubby clothes, barely brushed our hair, and I wore no make-up. It was actually really nice. In the hours since, Chris has not strayed from my side {a grand gesture for him, since his computer is in the other room} while I’ve eaten all sorts of junk, binge-watched Hart of Dixie, and online shopped for a new comforter for our bed. The couch probably has a permanent impression of my rear end, but it’s a small price to pay for a day of R & R.

I gotta be honest…it’s not how I pictured my first Mother’s Day to go. But it could be worse. Chris was so sweet to look me in the eyes and wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. And I’ve received several texts from my close friends with just the kindest words of encouragement and validation. {From my dear friend L: “Happy Mother’s Day to you too. You’ve prayed over, rejoiced over, worried over, praised over, wept over, sacrificed for, loved, and carried 4 sweet babies. You’ve already been through more real, gritty mom stuff than most. If that’s not being a mother, I don’t know what is.”}

And so that’s where I’m at. A momma who has both welcomed and lost 4 little lives inside of her. A momma with empty arms and a heart that’s bigger and more full than it was a year ago…albeit broken for the time being. A momma that doesn’t look like a momma to most and who has no idea where to go from here.

But even more than all that, I am a woman who was invited by God to become a momma so that I could help usher 4 little lives into His kingdom. He didn’t have to involve me in this plan…and when the pain is at it’s greatest I almost find myself wishing He hadn’t. But it has truly been an honor to have mothered our little ones in this way, and through them God has been at a great work inside of me. I can’t say I understand what He is doing at all, but I trust that He is good.

I read the following verses from Micah 7 today…I think I’m going to be meditating on them for a while. “7 – But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me. 8 – Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise. Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light.”

So yes, even today, blessed am I.

 

 

Our two ‘least of these.’

Yesterday we met these two littles…

🙂 Yes, we went back for our 2nd frozen embryo transfer. It’s been just over two months since the first transfer…and it’s been a pretty wild couple of months.

Once we definitely decided to move forward with this 2nd transfer, things fell into place quickly. I didn’t have to do the Lupron shots, my lining progressed well enough {barely} that there was no need to postpone the transfer like last time, and somehow the procedure ended up costing us less than half of the first one. {Giving God total credit for that one…it still doesn’t make sense to me!}

Besides all that, we’ve been much quieter about this transfer. That was Chris’ request really…he was so open & excited about the first transfer, and found it difficult to keep having to talk about it after we found out we weren’t pregnant. Our immediate families & close friends knew this one was happening, along with a few others who we knew would be committed to praying for us. {Plus we didn’t lie about it if it came up or someone asked.} Surprisingly, I actually struggled with not sharing as openly…I want God to get the glory & for our little ones to be known…but I felt a peace about us keeping it more quiet. Could be for a variety of reasons {my personal favorite is because these little ones are going to get to stick around and be known & loved by lots of people}, but for now it’s what’s best for our little family.

So meeting our little ones & the time since has been a pretty quiet event. Yesterday Chris went to work for a while, while I spent some quiet time preparing for the day. We drove in after lunch, I *waited* to drink any water until we got to the doctors office {lesson learned = no bedpan. Victory!}, and we were back in and ‘suiting up’ within minutes of our appointment time. The transfer itself was smooth, the doctor encouraging, and the two of us happy to meet our little ones.

These two are a true example of “the least of these.” They are the last in what was originally a set of 11 {if I remember correctly}, which means each transfer they’ve been passed up for others deemed to have a higher chance of success. Although we didn’t get an official grading from the doctor, I know it wouldn’t be stellar if we had. Actually, one of them was a little “frost bitten” initially {we’ve nicknamed that one Frosty, of course}…but they both continued to grow and improve even between the initial point of thaw and the transfer itself. Surprisingly all of this bothers me very little. God and I dealt with the whole issue of “odds” early on in this journey, and I know that no grade is going to determine the will of God.

They are beautiful & we love them…and we’re praying God will show up & show off with our “least of these.”

Snuggle in little ones!

Blessed are we.

leaning in.

It’s been just over a week since we found out that our little ones didn’t get to stay. I haven’t done tons of talking about everything…sometimes in this process things happen that cause me to lose my words for a while. My brain works at a million miles an hour in a million different directions and it just takes me a bit to work through that and find my words. That’s where I’ve been…and I’ve spent a few evenings staring at this computer screen wondering what I should type. During that time, God and I have been in an… interesting place.

I wasn’t angry with Him particularly…nor did I completely distrust Him or want to do anything so drastic as walk away from Him. Now to pull away a bit, distance myself as a means of ‘protection’ for my heart…yes, that temptation was there. I remember driving home from work on the day after we found out, and forcing myself to listen to songs that sang of His goodness, of His promise to bring beauty from broken things. I made myself sing, albeit through tears, to “It is Well”…all while my spirit was begging Him to make it well within me. Although I wanted to push back, I knew it was the opposite of what I needed…and so despite the pain, I began to lean in.

I felt that same need when we were at my parents and discussed whether or not we would go to church that Sunday. So many people there have been following our story and praying diligently for us, and we knew that we might have to talk about our loss with some of them. In the end, I felt like it was where I needed to be. The service was a good one…but again I had to make myself sing, make myself listen to the words of encouragement and truth spoken from the pulpit.

It may sound wrong to say it that way…or maybe I’m just not doing a good job of explaining it. But I don’t think God minded that I was “faking it until I could feel it” so to say. Although I didn’t feel like “it was well,” {and I’m still not there 100%} I knew & trusted that God could make it well, so I very intentionally declared that to Him. It was the same with church…pushing past my feelings and forcing my heart to open to Him took much more fight and trust than shutting down & shutting Him out.

At that point in time, I found it very overwhelming emotionally to be in His presence. He has been so near to me, to us, over these last few weeks…and it made me feel vulnerable in a way I found to be difficult once we found that His will was different from what we’d been praying for. I knew He was there…I knew His arms were open to me, His comfort readily available…but I wanted to keep some distance between us. Kind of a “we can be in the same room, but you sit on that couch and I’ll sit over here on this one” kind of thing.

I came across a beautifully written blog by a Christian woman who experienced a miscarriage at 6 weeks. She was farther along than I was obviously, but her words on the grief and pain she felt in experiencing an early pregnancy loss felt like some of the very same words I had been searching for. She said “For several months, I grieved and battled within myself. I remember telling the Lord that if I didn’t know Him so well, I would not have been so hurt and angry with Him. But I DID know Him, and I DID know without a doubt that He had given this life to my womb knowing all the while that I would be brought to the highest of high in my life, only to crash and be utterly broken within weeks. He gave me thins Samuel-baby, knowing that He would soon take this baby home to be with Him and that it would break our hearts.” {From Faith for the Journey} 

As this past week went on, it was as if the more I sang and prayed to Him, the more emotionally unstable I became. On Thursday night, one week after our beta test, I remember Chris lovingly telling me that I really needed to talk with God…to settle things with Him. I knew it was time, but I felt so hurt that it was hard to allow myself to be wrapped up in His arms. {The best way I know to describe it is this: Sometimes when Chris and I have gotten into an argument, I have felt so hurt by something he’s said or because I don’t feel understood by him. Afterwards he has always opened his arms to me & said “I love you, come here…” But in those moments, I feel torn. I know he is my husband, and that I love him and should go to him…but I’m still so hurt. When that’s happened, I usually take the needed steps toward him, but then stand there and cry while he holds me. After a few moments of that I’m able to hug him back, and from there we are able to make things right between us and move forward.}

All that being said…I’ve been in the “torn” stage. I’m taking tiny steps towards Him, but I’m not there quite yet. I actually made a lot of progress in connecting some of the dots a few nights ago while talking to a close friend of mine. What I figured out was this…

At the end of January, I felt God telling me that I needed to stop living in “and if not” and start living in the joyful hope & expectation of “and if so.” And I did. I allowed Him to settle peace & calmness into my days, I began to allow myself to really think about what our lives would look like with babies. I knew around when I would be due, thought about when I would need to have sub plans for, envisioned Christmas with our babies & our new nephew. During our time of waiting after the transfer I downloaded pregnancy apps, Chris talked to the babies every day…he even announced to someone that I was pregnant with twins. {Yikes!} It was a sweet time for us.

So when I found out that I wasn’t pregnant…that neither little one would be staying with us…I felt so overwhelmingly disappointed and confused. I knew that I would likely never understand all the reasons why, but I was so confused by Him. Why would He have made me leave that place of “and if not”…that place of guarding my heart and shielding my expectations. Had I stayed there, it certainly seems as if this all would have hurt less. Why would He give, just to take away?

What I feel like He helped me understand is this…had He not asked me to move out of that place, the time spent with our little ones likely would have looked much different. For a lot of people, the time leading up to / following the transfer is marked with anxiety and stress. Had we spent that time feeling on edge and counting down the minutes to our blood test, we would have wasted what little time we had with our little ones. Instead, it was a sweet time of peace and love. Chris and I were in a good place, emotionally I was in a good place, and so much love was showered on and prayed over our little ones. I will always be able to look back at their time with us and call it good. There is so much beauty & meaning in that. It doesn’t answer everything, but it gives me a glimpse at the reason He asked me to make myself vulnerable to Him, and to them. Love is worth everything it costs; I know that to be true now.

That seems like a good place to stop for today.

Blessed am I.

we’ll get there.

{This is one of those posts that is truly mostly just for me…just trying to journal & recount this process and all of the feelings. Not the most captivating or inspired post, but necessary for me to work my way through my thoughts & feelings.}

Friday 

Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning on Friday I woke up from a dream juuust enough to feel confused about what was real and what wasn’t…and then enough to remember that I wasn’t pregnant. I managed to fall back asleep, but when the alarm clock started sounding a couple of hours later it was right back at the forefront of my mind. I remember thinking “But God, I don’t want to live in a world that they aren’t in…” {Not as in I wanted to die, just that the thought of them really being gone was so sad to me.} We’ve known about these little ones since September, we’ve been praying for them specifically for almost a year before that. Once we decided on embryo adoption, we knew that likely our little ones already existed and probably had for years. {We later learned that they were created about 6 months after we were married.}

I pushed it until the last possible minute to get out of bed, and even then it was a struggle. I wanted nothing more than to call in and stay in bed for the day…but on a Kindergarten award assembly & field trip day, that’s just not an option.

I made it through getting ready solely because I prayed each step of the way that God would just get me through it and get me out the door, and was able to hold the few tears that did sneak out at bay. {My eyes were so puffy they hurt…} I had a harder time keeping it together on the drive…I typically listen to christian music but I didn’t dare that morning. Honestly it was all I could do to pray that God would help me hold it together…to enter into a space with Him beyond that would have made me more vulnerable than I could handle at that moment.

School, for a variety of reasons unrelated & outside of my control {plus my state of mind, of course}, was basically a terrible, no-good, very bad day. I made it through, and that’s about all I can say about that. I made it to my car afterwards and cried the entire way home. This time I did play music, and pretty much forced myself to offer parts of the songs as prayers. I’ve learned through this that feelings are fleeting {and they aren’t always true} but that God never changes & loves us beyond measure, even when we feel hurt by Him. So I sang to Him through my tears, both to acknowledge who I know Him to be and to remind myself that He is for me, not against me.

Once home, I texted our close friends to let them know the news, and asked my mom to call my extended family. I just couldn’t do it. Then I packed up all of the medicine & needles and put them away until we need them again. I never thought I would miss those things…but I did, and still do.

A bit later, Chris and I drove to my parents house. We hadn’t planned on going before, but Chris knew I would need them…so off we went. It was a good drive for us…we were able to talk about a lot of things and encourage one another. Before bed we talked & grieved with my parents & brother/sister-in-law. That was the last big crying bout I’ve had…

Saturday/Sunday

I slept extra late on Saturday, then we mostly spent the day lounging around the house together. I did send a few e-mails {to the agency, our genetic family, our prayer circle} to let them know.

On Sunday we went to my parents church. I did have to steal dad’s hankie…I held it together pretty much until the pastor came by to speak with us for a moment {he was a big prayer & adoption support for us} and then spoke words of strength & encouragement for those who were hurting from the pulpit. It was good that we went…I’ll write more about that later.

Before Chris & I left on Sunday we had a discussion with my parents about what all of this is going to look like moving forward. We do still have two embryos waiting on us, and we think it would be best to go back for them sooner rather than later. It was helpful to have them think through some of the logistics of that with us, and they continued to speak reassurance and encouragement over us, which was much needed.

It was late before we were back home & in bed, but my soul felt so much more settled after time with my family. I am so blessed to have them, and to have always had a home that was a safe place of rest and peace for me.

Monday & On

Back to work was hard…it’s those quiet mornings & drives that get me. But we’ve been making it through and we will continue to. We’ve had a lot of good family & friends loving on us…I’ll write more about that later. They’ve helped us tremendously, and they’ve made these days easier to handle.

So, we’re pushing on. Right now we are waiting on my period to start…it’s a necessity before we can move forward and will really bring more closure I think. I did take a pregnancy test yesterday…the no-period thing was freaking me out…but of course it was negative. There was no crying…it wasn’t new news.

We are trying to lean in to God and allow those around us to help & comfort us as they feel led. I’m looking forward to next week {spring break}…I’m hoping for some good time to really read back through our journey & pray…to search the Word. I’m still working some things out with God, and I know I need to really make myself fully vulnerable to Him before I can find healing and trust to move forward.

As Chris and I tell each other often, we’ll get there.

Blessed are we.

Thursday.

Thursday – Blood Test / Results

Despite feeling nervous about the weather and anticipating the big blood test, Chris and I slept well on Wednesday night. I woke up feeling at peace & well-rested, and spent a little quiet time to myself. When Chris woke up he checked the icy roads, and although he was nervous about us driving he agreed that we could go for the test. {If he had seriously tried to say no I can’t even imagine the fight he would have had on his hands!}

We took the trip slow, but it was basically non-eventful. Had the blood drawn no problem, made sure they knew to send it to our doctors office asap, and off we went.

Not longer after we got home Chris went to work, and I was left to nervously piddle around the house. I managed to do some school work…straighten up a bit…and eventually took advantage of a friend’s offer to run to Target for some dollar aisle browsing. All were decent distractions; I was more nervous and unsettled on Thursday than any other day of the wait.

I had asked our nurse to call and leave a message for us with the results so that Chris and I could listen together. She called before 2 {hence, the need for the Target trip} and Chris wasn’t expected home until sometime between 4 & 5. When he got home from work {and I from Target} we sat down on the couch together to listen. Chris was calm & confident…same as he’d been the entire wait. I felt like I could throw up. We reassured each other that no matter what, we would be fine and we trusted God.

And then we pressed play. 

It was over before it even started really. I could tell by her “Heyyy Heather…” that the news wasn’t good. We held it together through the message, which was a sympathetic “the test was negative, stop your meds immediately, call us after your period starts” kind of thing.

I can’t even say how long we sat there in shock afterwards. There weren’t even tears at first…and then there were. Lots. Silent, endless streams punctuated by sobs.

I definitely can’t even begin to recount all of the thoughts that were jumbled in my mind. I could hardly finish one before the next started, and they were all over the place.

The only thing I remember saying during that time of shock was “I miss them.” It is a terribly heart-wrenching thing to know that there was life in you, only for it to be gone. 

I moved pretty quickly into denial…and started freaking out about not doing our shots for the night. We were nearing our medicine time, and I just panicked. What if we tested too early? What if they were late implanters? What if they were really still there and we stopped the medicine? I e-mailed our nurse, but it took her a few to get back to me. By the time she did, I had talked myself down for the most part…we pay them a lot of money to know what’s going on, after all. Her e-mail confirmed that the hcg level was less than 1, so that was that. We stopped the medicines that night.

Chris called his parents and talked to them to break the news…I can still hear his sobs. I think I pretty much just sat there during that time, then I set about doing all {okay, not all} the things not-pregnant people can do…eating raw brownie batter, drinking sweet tea, taking a super hot bath, taking some Nyquil for my head cold…

We ate some dinner…walked the dog…I don’t even know what else.

A bit later I called my parents. They had been out to eat, so I waited until they were home. The news was a shock…they hadn’t had any idea that we’d even taken the blood test. It was so hard to choke the words out to them…to know how invested they were and how much they had hoped with us that these little ones would get to stay. We cried together, and despite neither them or I even knowing the words to say, it was enough. {Not in the ‘just barely enough’ way, but in the ‘exactly what was needed at that moment way.’} I have incredible parents…they both soothed and strengthened me, even in their own heartbreak.

From there we called our siblings…the brother and I cried together, and my sister-in-law {ever the cheerleader} had the wisdom to speak words of life over our little ones and promised me that they would not be forgotten. It was a good talk, between the three of us…I wish I could remember more of it, but again, it was enough. Throughout the calls my sweet pup jumped up on the couch with me {something he rarely does} and laid his head across my lap. He stayed there for almost 2 hours…unheard of for him, but he knew that I needed him I guess.

We were drained after that, and it was bedtime since we both had work in the morning. We decided telling extended family & friends could wait for another day. Blessedly sleep is rarely ever something that is a problem for me, so we snuggled in, even Huxley.

No doubt, it will be counted as one of the hardest days of my life. Our hearts were broken…twice over really, as we lost two little ones. God was with us though, I know that…and we didn’t grieve as those without hope. Our little ones received a beautiful life, in glory...and we will get to meet them there one day.

Blessed are we.