It happened again. I got too comfortable. I allowed myself to relax, take in life, and live life as if I was the one calling the shots. Truth is I am not. You would think that having gone through an entire three years of infertility before my daughter was born would have made me more prone to relying on God alone, but my human desires and where I was at in life made me all too comfortable.
Matthew and I decided it was time to have another. Lydia was 18 months old, we were all sleeping through the night on a regular basis, my body felt slightly back to normal, it seemed right. So we followed the doctor's protocol and happily found out we were expecting baby number two. It was all too easy and a lot less stress on my body the second time around. My pregnancy was easy at first and smooth sailing, but then the nausea kicked in. I was fairly miserable and, at times, hated life. Although, since it was my second time around I knew that it would end...eventually. I knew that it would probably last 14-16 weeks, since I was pretty sick while I was pregnant with Lydia and knew what to expect. Except that it didn't.
Around 10 weeks pregnant my nausea and most other symptoms kinda just went away. At first, it didn't really concern me because everyone says,"every pregnancy is different" and I was basically through the first trimester. I was, however, concerned when I noticed some spotting. The doctor's office said it was best that we come in for an ultrasound to check everything out.
"There's no heartbeat", the Dr. said.
"What?" I asked in disbelief.
"There's no heartbeat." the Dr. stated again in the most monotone voice.
This short, brief conversation will be forever implanted in my memories. It was by far the most painful and excruciating event that I have ever faced in my thirty-two years on this earth. It was the first time in my life that I truly experienced death that hit so close to my heart. There were no words and are no words to explain my grief. It sucks.
So not only are Matthew and I journeying the infertility path, but we have also understood the despair and heartache many parents have faced in mourning the loss of their angel baby. It's quite common and I was actually shocked to learn that so many people in my life had experienced a miscarriage. It's not shameful, but not easy to talk about (though it's freeing to talk about it). This path and this loss can easily spiral one into a world of depression, anger, anxiety, and a "woe is me" type attitude. That isn't who I want to be. I have chosen hope instead of despair, joy instead of anger, and peace over my circumstances instead of anxiety. I do struggle and I do fall, but I always try to pick myself up again because I know that God's plans will be done and continue to be better than I can plan. I have learned once again that I have no control over when a baby will come into Matt and I's life. It's a difficult fact of life and lesson to learn, but I do know that once again I am a lot stronger than I was before.
As for now, Matthew and I wait because "Thy Will be Done."
