Living in Tension

So we went on vacation this week. Opting for a reasonably priced, somewhat local option (we were thinking about Hawaii earlier this year, but it's just silly since I'm pregnant), we spent a week chilling out at my aunt & uncle's vacation home in the Utah mountains. I wouldn't say we did a lot - we did some stuff every day, but mostly relaxed which was the whole objective.

They say it takes three days for a person to actually relax on vacation. What would that look like? I use sleep as a gauge. In which case, relaxing apparently took a while - in fact, having arrived on Friday night it wasn't until the following Thursday night that I got a good night's sleep. The night before we headed home. Pretty sad, huh? But part of the reason is, that three-floor house in the forest surrounded by the black of night instead of the sounds of the city is downright creepy when it's just me and DH there. Otherwise we love it to pieces.

But anyway, on to the subject of the day: living in tension. I've said that I have decided to embrace hope, and that is true. As evidence I point to my generally non-stressed demeanor and acceptance of this pregnancy. I'm not freaking out about things anymore, though I kind of avoid learning much about raising a baby just yet. It's trickling in. Too overwhelming right now.

We finally decided to let the larger world in on our growing secret this week. Yeah, it took this long (I'm 17 weeks now). Letting the cat out of the bag feels like I'm enabling it to run away. Is that a weird analogy? And.. I still haven't told anyone at my work (save for the few who know me on more than a water cooler basis). And I still don't want to. Though they're probably about to start taking bets so I should.

I think there's something publicly embarrassing or just very awkward about people knowing about such an intense and private loss. Not like when a family member dies, but something.. I don't know what it is. Shame isn't the right word, I know.

Maybe it's because our society has no idea how to grieve publicly. We're taught to lick our wounds in our caves on evenings and weekends so we can be sparkly and productive on weekdays. But real life isn't like that. It kicks and screams and demands to be dealt with when it's inconvenient and messy and ugly. It relentlessly hounds us until we have nervous breakdowns or failed relationships, or until we pursue counseling or medications - or sometimes all of the above.

If this pregnancy doesn't work out, I don't know how I would return to work. I don't know that I would be mentally capable for some time. But why do such thoughts even cross my mind? Why am I still waiting for the other shoe to drop? Everything in my body is 100% clinically proven to be normal. Normal! The scans and the chromosomal blood tests prove it. So what the hell is my problem?

Oh wait... it's been a couple weeks since I cracked open that Battlefield of the Mind book. Guess it's time to do some more reading.

Sigh... God's work in my heart is never done.

Milestones and Memories

Nine and a half weeks.

Not the ridiculous movie that came out in the 80s, but the mile marker on my journey. So why should I care?

In May of last year, I had my first miscarriage at 12 weeks. Ultrasound measurements at the emergency room confirmed that the fetus had stopped growing at 9.5 weeks. So I was walking around clueless for 2.5 weeks (so was the rest of my body, apparently, as I had no symptoms otherwise).

A quick check of the calendar confirms that I now have three weeks between me and that magical 12.5 week ultrasound. It feels like a long, dark tunnel of time. I want to forget - to numb out, fix myself a really big drink, distract myself, do whatever it takes to not obsess over this particular time period. But what can I do? I'm reminded every time I switch from my tight daytime bra to my goofy-but-effective nighttime bra. Every time I stick a cracker in my mouth to abate or prevent nausea. Every time I... well, breathe.

So, this week I'm going to a conference hosted by my church. Thursday night, Friday night, heck - maybe even the Saturday workshop. Something about living for a cause. I went last year and really got a lot out of it - that is, until we did this public outreach thing. That was not a good experience for me (I'll not bother going into details). So I'm really afraid of that part. Otherwise I'm looking forward to guest lectures and really awesome worship music and prayer.

Where are you, Sam? Is your heart still beating? Are you still growing? I wish I could know. My soul groans to know.

Duality

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.

Faith and Doubt are Hand in Hand

Yesterday I went in for my annual lady checkup. The last time I was in that office was when I had my second miscarriage, and the same person (the nurse practitioner) saw me then and now. She was wonderfully engaging and helpful, and wanted to know what all I'd been through since she'd last seen me. I gave her the lowdown – therapy, yoga, small group, this blog, and anti-depressants – and she was very empathetic. She remarked basically on how so much statistically and medically is against me according to the results of the fertility lab work. It sank my heart just a little, and I didn't ask for more details. All I remembered was "egg quality issue" and that was all I needed (wanted) to know.  I talked about how critical the support of our church family and others has been, and added "I don't know where you fall on this spectrum, but I'm going to tell you anyway: If it hadn't been for Jesus reaching straight into my heart, I would have DIED."

I left the doctor's office and headed home where I would put in another hour of work. I tuned into K-LOVE as I usually do, and praised God for preserving me and loving me. As I turned off the freeway, a song came on written by a man who's young daughter had died. I've heard it before, but this time I was bawling before it ended, my own pain fresh once again. It acknowledges the confusion and pain of grief and loss, even as it looks for the hope and promise of spending eternity with our loved ones. And that's how I feel pretty much. I told my small group last night about my house dream and about this day, and said that I feel like I'm riding on two tracks: faith and doubt. Why can't I just let go? Trust implicitly? Truthfully, I don't think that is something I can actually do. I believe that this is a supernatural thing that only God can do in me.

Heaven is the Face of a Little Girl

Steven Curtis Chapman

Heaven is the face of a little girl

With dark brown eyes

That disappear when she smiles.

Heaven is the place

Where she calls my name

Says, “Daddy please come play with me for awhile.”

Chorus:

God, I know, it's all of this and so much more,

But God, You know, that this is what I'm aching for.

God, you know, I just can't see beyond the door.

So right now...

Heaven is the sound of her breathing deep,

Lying on my chest, falling fast asleep while I sing.

And Heaven is the weight of her in my arms,

Being there to keep her safe from harm while she dreams

And God, I know, it's all of this and so much more,

But God, You know, that this is what I'm longing for

God, you know, I just can't see beyond the door.

Bridge:

But in my mind's eye I can see a place

Where Your glory fills every empty space.

All the cancer is gone,

Every mouth is fed,

And there's no one left in the orphans' bed.

Every lonely heart finds their one true love,

And there's no more goodbye,

And no more not enough,

And there's no more enemy.

Heaven is a sweet, maple syrup kiss

And a thousand other little things I miss with her gone.

Heaven is the place where she takes my hand

And leads me to You,

And we both run into Your arms.

Oh God, I know, it's so much more than I can dream.

It's far beyond anything I can conceive.

So God, You know, I'm trusting You until I see

Heaven in the face of my little girl,

Heaven in the face of my little girl.

Oh Jesus, make my dreams come true.

Freaking out.. just a skosh

The realization of the impending one-year mark of my first miscarriage is already beginning to make its mark on me. Today I had a meeting with a colleague who's had three miscarriages followed by a (so far very) successful pregnancy. She let me know that another colleague is now 12 weeks along and will likely make a public announcement soon. In empathy she just wanted to... warn me? I guess. I thanked her, of course, for such sensitivity. We share an interesting bond for otherwise knowing very little about each other.


This afternoon, on the shuttle bus to the parking lot where I park for work, I caught a lump in my throat. I swallowed before it could affect my eyes. 


I am remembering Easter Sunday. It was early morning, and I pulled out my Bible from my nightstand to read while my husband was sleeping. Randomly decided to read a section in John. Chapter 15. Started from the beginning - the vine and the branches. Read through verse 7:  If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.


I stopped. Ran over the words again and again. I started praying. And weeping - just as I did when the wounds of my miscarriages were first rent. I haven't cried a drop in a couple months, not since I started taking anti depressants (which have been good for me, you should know). 


I feel like the shine is wearing off. 


Or maybe I'm just projecting the pain of the recent past into the possibilities of the future.


I need another glass of wine. cheers....

To herb or not to herb?

Since there is no western medicine treatment for my condition (egg quality), I embarked on a mission a few months ago to see if there were any natural treatments I could do. If you've read past posts, you know I've tried acupuncture - it was nice and all, but didn't seem to be a good fit for me and my wallet. I have looked through several volumes of supplement books to see what they recommend, and have been dismayed to find that they are almost all completely different.

What does this mean? That all of them are true? Or none? Or... it depends?

Hell if I know. I read and look for patterns or similarities. I think and pray and do research. Is this enough? I'm not sure what to do, how long to do it, how to take it or for how long...

I found one supplement, Female Reproductive Factors from Michael's Naturopathics, that contains many of the herbs that support the female system. So I started taking those a week ago. I know, it takes months for herbs to be effective. So far my body has responded by making me super bloated and giving me hormonal facial acne - you know, the stubborn things that leave scars - so I'm not sure I should be taking these.

It's so frustrating. I want to be proactive and do good things for my body in the hopes that maybe we can try again, but I'm never sure that I'm doing the right thing. I feel so lost sometimes.

Why is it so Hard to be Honest with Myself?

There I was, being normal (as opposed to weepy, depressed, obsessive, blah blah) on a Sunday morning as I was getting ready for church. In the back of my mind, however, a little storm was brewing. Something had set me off and I'd been ignoring it.

In my quest for a successful natural pregnancy, I had re-started acupuncture sessions with a new practitioner that is closer to home. In my first visit last Saturday, we went through the health questionnaire, the examining of my tongue, the explanation of my diagnosis and my goals. She told me about a couple of patients that she had helped who went on to conceive, and seemed reasonably confident that she could help me.

So there I was, laying on the table with a dozen or so needles all over my body, trying to pray or meditate or listen to the background music or just keep my eyes closed and breathe. Somewhere in the middle of it all I suddenly thought "this doesn't feel right." I ignored this sentence and tried to focus on other things.

The rest of the day, though, that sentence kept popping back into my head with clarity and solidity. How could acupuncture be not right? It's good for me, it's healing, I can afford it for once... why shouldn't I?

The next morning I started listing what was going on in my head, trying to suss out where that thought came from. Trying to listen and stop rationalizing. I realized that, for me - as long as I'm going after acupuncture and other professional treatments, I'm really not seeking first the Kingdom of God. If I'm really, truly, brutally honest with myself, I had to admit that this was kind of getting in the way of that. For now anyway.

Lest anyone think that I'm somehow opposed to seeking treatment, let me be the first to say that this is the farthest from the truth. I would never deny myself the chance to get help when help is readily available. It's just that, in this case, I sense the Holy Spirit is calling me to a deeper level of faith, perhaps a deeper level of healing, and it scares the crap out of me.

Back to Sunday morning: I found myself caught in a whirlwind of questions, feeling utterly lost in everything with no answers and no direction. What should I do? How long do I have to wait? Should I adopt instead? I started talking to my husband, saying that I felt like I was all alone in this decision and desperately needed to feel like we were on this quest together. It's simply not enough for me to find the answers. And then I admitted the truth - that I thought I should quit doing acupuncture, that maybe I should take a break from all of this for a few months, that I need peace more than anything else right now. And then the storm broke, the tears came, and instead of going to church I spent that time crying at the kitchen table, accepting the rawness of myself and just being honest.

I want to have an answer. A path. A solution. Something to move toward. It's easy to panic, thinking that I'm running out of time. But right now, my task is to wait.. seek peace.. stop chasing after answers.. and just rest. For now.

For now.