So yeah, the ultrasound was Thursday. It was just fine. Totally viable. Good heartbeat. I just made the 8 week mark today. My next ultrasound isn't until Aug. 11 though, which is the 13 week mark. I feel like it's just too long though, so I may ask for an interim ultrasound like when I'm 10 weeks. Last year, I miscarried at 12 weeks but it turned out the fetus stopped growing at 9.5 weeks. It feels like an awfully long time and every day seems to pass so slowly.
It's true that my husband and I are both taking this one day at a time, but I seem to be unable to reconcile the duality between my surrendered faith and the dark tunnel of my past experience.
This past Monday, I woke up with a dreadful feeling that this one isn't going to make it and I can't say why. Maybe it was the turn of a dream or a gut feeling. Maybe it's being off my meds. But even though God really did deliver me from fear in a powerful way in April, I'm terrified. I want to believe that the best will happen, but I don't know that. I don't know anything - except maybe that God is still with me. But that doesn't stop me from having this emotional turmoil. It's like I can't exhale until the 12 week marker, and until then I can only ask God to let me down easy if this isn't going to work out.
Meanwhile I'm finding it hard not to react with resentment when I see other couples popping out their second kids, or a young couple expecting a baby who just bought their first (beautiful) house. I am forcing myself to be thankful for what I have every day though. Wisdom is no easy teacher.