Now I feel the stirrings in my heart that it is soon time. I refuse to let my mind settle and stay on being afraid of having another miscarriage. Again, I am back to simply trusting. Trusting that whatever happens, God is going to be there with me. Trusting and praying that THIS time it will work. That THIS time we will hold a live, breathing, warm and wiggly baby in our arms.
What if? The question that echoes in my heart and mind so much lately. How do I turn over all to Him? I try to stand strong, to resist fear. I try to be the "good, solid christian" who does not allow fear in. I feel it's icy fingers more often lately. Loss brings fear, fear of the unknown, fear of that gut wrenching pain. I don't ever want to feel the pain of loss again...but what if...
Pregnancy and infant loss doesn't politely ask to become part of your life. It shows up uninvited, and robs you of the very thing you thought was sacred and untouchable.
I never thought it would happen to me personally, and I hear that same statement over and over from women around me experiencing loss.
Life is full of what ifs. If I am completely open and honest, some of them scare me. A lot.
A baby born alive after pregnancy or infant loss is called a rainbow baby. A rainbow is a symbol of hope and promise. Though our hearts desire a rainbow baby, the thought that remains in the back of our minds is, "What if we try and the pregnancy ends with a loss again?" Could we handle facing that pain again? Are we willing to take the risk? Can we be brave enough to try again? If we choose not to, can we swallow that empty spot that we felt was supposed to be filled? Even though the rainbow is a sign of promise, it may still have rain that accompanies it.
The weight of fear can become so great, I cannot carry it on my own. When I feel overwhelmed by it, I realize, it is not mine to carry. The yoke of it was removed from me long ago, if I would/could only give it over to Him. That seems easier said than done. It is a constant decision, you have to be able to catch fear at the earliest sign of it, and give it God. In the Bible it says that God has not given me a spirit of fear, but somehow I forget this in my humanity.
Next step, believing. Do I believe? Yes, I do. If I close my eyes, I can see our family. Our family has four, sometimes more, children running around us, but can it become a reality?
My head tells me I can't take any more grief, but at the same time, my heart holds so much joy and so much love, I can't imagine not trying again. Many people refer to this journey as a dance between grief and joy, and it truly is that. There, amidst the most ugly, scary, horribly awful times, there is joy. There is peace. There is a sacredness because a child existed. A child was loved. So if my journey holds more grief, then I still continue this dance, after all, I am already here. My Dance Partner loves me and comforts me like no other. I know that despite my two left feet, He will guide me gracefully through and make my dance into a thing of beauty.