Sometimes the Answer is No

I always said that I wanted my blog to journal our lives: the good, the not-so-good, the moments that I never wanted to forget. If you haven't noticed, it's been a while since I've written a post. Not really, I've written three or four, I've just never "published" them. Why? I don't know. I typically try to stick to blogging about the happy stuff in life. The everyday triumphs and failures (even though it's hard to write about them). But, for whatever reason, I've been holding back. Maybe I am waiting for a moment that's so joyful and happy, it's worth sharing to make up for the month or so that I've written nothing. Maybe I want something really grand to happen to take the past month or so away. I guess I've finally realized that my (our) life is what it is. And no matter what I hope to happen, what has happened has already taken place and there is no erasing it. Not that I would erase it if I could, but you tend to want to block out the bad and embellish the good in your life. We all do, mostly. In all aspects of life, we want to share the great things, the good news, the exciting moments. Who wants to talk about how stressed you are or how "bad" your life really is? Not me. But, I also can't hide it.

I wrote this on December 23, but never published it:

I believe in God. I believe in miracles. In fact, I believe in a lot of things. But, I didn't believe it would happen to me. Most of us think things that happen to others that aren't so ideal or perfect would never happen to us. You hope for the best, but the reality of life is that nothing is for certain. No matter how much planning, wishing, hoping, and praying you might do, whatever is going to happen in your life will still happen. That's a hard pill to swallow sometimes. In my dream life I have it planned out perfectly: we'll raise our four children in a quaint little town. They'll wear their matching monogrammed outfits on special occasions. Landon will be the star soccer player and Lily will be at the top of the stunt group as she cheers for our hometown football team. They'll graduate high school with the same kids they went to kindergarten with. You get the picture. I picture a life for myself and my family and though most of the time I can "make it happen", sometimes, you just can't.

That time is now. Today, actually. I woke up this morning afraid to get out of bed. I was scared that if I stood up, I would start spotting. Again. Like I had the night before. Let me explain. Last week, I went to pick up my second prescription of medicine for something I never ever dreamed I would need. I was picking up the only chance I had at getting pregnant. You see, I got pregnant with Lily on "accident"...we all know now that she was no accident. And Landon, he was conceived in the blink of any eye, as well. So, when we yearned for Baby #3 to come along (August-September), we certainly weren't expecting what we got: a negative pregnancy test. And another. And another. I had purchased ovulation kits that showed up blank. Nothing. I was convinced it was "user error"...but my blood tests later showed they were not wrong at all. I went to see my OB/GYN, knowing something was not right. Secretly, I wished that they would tell me everything was just fine and to go home. But, I just knew my body and I knew something was going on. After a laundry list of tests, we discovered that my progesterone levels (which should be around 10-20 for an ovulating woman) was less than 1. What? I didn't understand? How could that be? I have had two children in two years and now my body is not producing eggs? I'm 26 years old. I just didn't want to believe it.

I eventually came to grips with the idea that the only way we were going to ever have a chance at having another baby would be to take the medicine. So, I took one for the team (though my stubborn self wanted so badly to get pregnant on my own), and did it. When it was time, I took two pregnancy tests in two days and both were negative. Dissappointment. Again. My type-A, work-hard-at-what-you-want-in-life personality was not handling this well. And though Kevin was very good at being optimistic, even he was frustrated. I refused to by another test. I was just going to wait for my youknowwhat. Another week went by and I called the doctor to let them know that I would need another prescription because I would soon need to take it again, you know...after I start my youknowhat. But, that time would be Christmas and if I didn't get the medicine now, I wouldn't have it until the following month. So, I got it, but I also got a pregnancy test....because even though I swore I wouldn't buy another one, I needed to be darn sure before I took another round of medicine. You can imagine the shock on my face and the sound of my voice when I screached to Kevin that the test was positive. "Are you sure that's a +?" I asked him over and over to make sure he was seeing what I saw. That is definitely a plus sign, Susan. No mistaking that! I was beyond thrilled. And though I knew I was only 4 weeks pregnant, I was going to be busting at the seams for the next few weeks as I struggled to contain my excitement.

But, then came today. Last night rather. I started spotting and got extremely nervous. I was worried, but not too worried. Afterall, I thought I had had a full blown period before I found out I was pregnant with Lily. A little bit of spotting is okay. But, not a lot, which is what today brought. I immediately called the OB/GYN and was able to get in and have an ultrasound. Before the doctor came in, I cried my eyes out. I just prayed...begging God to hold my hand and to just help me. 'Cause I darn sure wasn't going to be able to help myself at this point. When the doctor came in, I immediately felt stronger. I remembered the questions I wanted to ask like they were written on a piece of paper in front of me. I didn't cry. I was all business, trying not to look like the emotional, hormonal wreck that I was. I'm sure God had something to do with that strength, but I'd like to take some credit. I needed to know what was happening. What was good, what was bad. Dr. Anderson showed me my ovaries and said they looked "great". He measured my uterine lining and reassured me that I was in fact pregnant and the lining was "thick and healthy". Those words were what I needed to hear. Something good. But, I still wasn't sold. I wanted to know what a miscarriage was. How would I know for sure? He didn't have the exact answer. Everyone is different. They drew my blood to check my hormone levels and would most likely be able to tell from the levels whether or not I was miscarrying or just "spotting". I knew in my heart what was already happening.

I raced to the car to tell Kevin what I had learned. Not much, but something. He casually said we would just have to wait until the results came back tomorrow. I was fine with that. Until later that morning when I had severe cramping. It was the "mini labor" Dr. A had mentioned my body might go through to "deliver" the sac, etc. I ignored the cramps, hoping that if I didn't pay attention to the severity of them, they would go away. But, they didn't. They only worsened. And so did everything else...

So, here I sit, the day before Christmas Eve. I was so excited to be pregnant for Christmas. It was what I had hoped for all along. I have gone through every emotion, as the day has gone in slow motion. I've been angry and sad; mad and thankful that God did what was best for me and the baby. And though I don't know what tomorrow holds, I do know who holds tomorrow (and that I am going to need some major cucumber treatments on my eyes! I've actually never done that, I was just thinking that's what they do in the movies, so that might work!). I need to be happy for my children, for my family. I need peace to help me enjoy this Christmas with my family and my two healthy children. I know God has a plan for our family. And although this wasn't the Christmas I had hoped for, it is the Christmas that is happening. And for everyone else's sake, I am going to enjoy every laugh, every surprised face, every "Oh my goodness!" and be thankful that I'm here with the ones I couldn't possibly love any more. I'm going to be thankful that I will never be given something I can't handle. I truly believe that God has a way of working in our lives, knowing what is best for us. Sometimes, it's just a hard pill to swallow.

So, back to today:
I think I would say I'm healed (as much as you can be after experiencing something like that). I've accepted it. I still keep thinking that I should be having another baby a month after Landon turns two. But, that's just not my reality. It seems everyone I know is either pregnant, just had a baby, or will have a baby soon. And although I am SO happy for them, a piece of me wants that to be me. It was me - a few weeks ago. I've tried very hard (and done well, I think!) to realize that everyone's situation, life circumstances, etc. are different. Mine are mine and not much will change them. When I'm honest with myself, I understand that I have been more than blessed with a husband who loves me (most of the time ;)) and two healthy children whom I adore and would not trade for anything in this world. I just always wanted a big family. I hope I get that some day. This is one of my favorite lyrics from a Brad Paisley song (titled "No") that I've never actually heard:

"Make no mistake; Every prayer you pray gets answered, even though, sometimes, the answer is no."

Braid Paisley is so right.