It’ll be alright. Whatever happens, I know that it really doesn’t matter what the blood test result is because God is in control of my circumstances. Nothing can take me out of his hands; nothing can stop him from loving me; nothing can take away my faith in a living, creating God. I certainly don’t understand him all the time, but I still love him even when it hurts.
If you somehow missed the news last week, we’re pregnant – for now, anyway. My hcg levels last week started out great and then didn’t do what we were expecting on Friday. Based on the bleeding and cramping over the weekend, I do not expect good news today, but I’m not willing to say it’s over until we get the results of the blood work. I didn’t let myself think about it much over the weekend except to tell God that I really want to keep this baby, but, more than that, all I need is to follow him. The world would call that prayer foolish, but I know it’s true. I have heaven to look forward to, and I have an eternity to spend with the babies we’ve lost.
I don’t wish this baby to be among the losses, but I can’t look past the next test. Last week, I looked from Monday to Wednesday to Friday. It’s impossible for me to see past each of the tests that mark the time until the ultrasound. It’s not that I don’t want to imagine holding our little one in nine months, but I can’t. One day last week, I went to a giant baby store and wandered around, indulging the desire to dream of decorating a nursery and pick out toys and clothes as if I were any first-time expectant mom. It was great to visit, but I can’t live there – not until we have a baby with a heartbeat.
It sounds horrible to admit, but Friday after I got the news of our hcg level, I didn’t let myself cry or think that it was over; I made plans for a few running events in case it turns out that I can actually do them. That’s the only bit of dwelling on the negative I’ve allowed. It may seem morbid to plan a running program “just in case,” but it’s actually pretty simple psychology. If we lose this baby, I need something to focus on that I can look froward to and that will make me feel proud of myself when I accomplish it. I suppose that always choosing some sort of physical fitness feat like a triathlon or half-marathon is probably simple psychology, too: if my body won’t do what I want when I’m pregnant, then at least I can make it do something I want it to do in the athletic arena.
All weekend I’ve blundered my way through congratulations and people asking if we’re excited. For the record, I stink at these conversations. I say something that will make the other person stop talking – something that they want to hear, like “Thanks, we’re very excited,” or “I can’t wait!” It’s insincere at best and usually it’s a lie. I’ll be excited when we have good news; until then I’ll be guarded and optimistic. The people who know better – our friends – have just been sweet and honest by saying, “We’re praying for you, and other than that, I have no idea what to say yet.” That is priceless and that keeps me positive when I’m tempted to start the hand-wringing. Those are the friends that know what I know: come Monday, I’ll either still be pregnant or I’ll be preparing to run a race, but either way, I’m running the race God set in front of me. You are the friends that support me: running with me (literally, Melissa, and I love you even more for it!!), supporting me when I’m weak, dragging me to the first aid station when I fall, and cheering no matter what. Know that I am blessed to have you in my life and that come Monday, I’ll need you more than ever, whatever the lab results may be.