In "googling" the word miracle, this is the definition I found. I agree with the given descriptor, but it is missing a disclaimer:
*Miracles do not always end the way we had hoped for...
Throughout my journey to become pregnant, I have prayed fervently and tirelessly for a miracle. On March 2, I was granted that miracle. On April 1, I lost it.
A positive pregnancy test was a miracle in itself for me. What happened between the dates of February 22 and April 1 were what I believe to be a true miracle. Unfortunately, my miracle wasn't permanent.
February 22: First HCG blood test after embryo transfer, positive result
February 24 (my birthday): Second HCG blood test, levels dropped, nurses informed us it was not a viable pregnancy, stopped all medication, began grieving process
March 2: follow up HCG blood test, HCG numbers inexplicably rose, nurses told me this was not a good phenomenon and to not get my hopes up, worried there was something seriously wrong with my body
March 4: follow up HCG blood test resulted in numbers appropriately doubled, gestational sac detected on the ultrasound, nurses and doctors shocked and in disbelief
*felt we were witnessing our miracle, Jer brought home flowers and a balloon, I tried to breathe through shock
March 5-March 14: numbers rise and gestational sac continues to grow, concerns over not enough growth regularly voiced by doctor and nurses, fear sets in, multiple appointments, countless hours of worry and prayer
On March 15th, Jeremiah and I walked into the doctor's office for another HCG blood test and ultrasound. We knew this was a pivotal day, that if the sac had not produced a yolk or fetal pole, the pregnancy was not going to continue. In the ultrasound room, Jeremiah had to hold me up as I was so nervous I fell while getting undressed for my exam. He held my hand while the doctor and nurse peered intently at the ultrasound machine. I watched their faces for any sign of hope. I knew by their furrowed brows and murmuring that they were not seeing what they were looking for.
My doctor walked away from the machine.
"It's empty. Shit," I heard him say.
You know your doctor is on your team when he swears at your undesirable results.
You know your doctor is on your team when he swears at your undesirable results.
My heart sunk, my blood froze, I went numb. I was in shock yet again. The weeks behind me had been filled with highs and lows, shock and disbelief, joy, hope, and fear. It was over. The D&C had to be scheduled.
In an effort to not ruin our upcoming vacation, we scheduled the procedure for the week after we came home. Because of this decision, I had to stay on my shots and medication so that I did not miscarry while away from my doctor's care. As I look back on it now, there was a part of me that still held onto hope that growth would occur while we were on our vacation and the miracle would continue. It was unrealistic, but my understanding is that is the magic of miracles.
On the day of my pre-operative blood work and ultrasound, I went by myself. I sat on the exam table and waited for what felt like hours to see the doctor. When he came in, he was done in two minutes. He saw my collapsed gestational sac right away. It was a flat blob. My beautiful little miracle, my hope, my baby, was a flat black blob inside of my belly. It hadn't grown. It wasn't safe inside of me, it wasn't the miracle I had wanted it to be.
Three days later, on April 1, I had my D&C. I cried from the minute we got to the hospital, until eight hours later when they brought me ginger ale and cookies. At one point, a nurse asked me if she should get a chaplain to pray with me, as I was in such a state. Nothing could have stopped the tears that day.
It is now several days past the D&C. I was able to stop taking the medication that was keeping me pregnant, making me feel pregnant. My butt is healing from where I was putting injections for 9 weeks. My breasts stopped aching, I'm no longer nauseous, I can keep my eyes open long enough to finish a TV show in the evening, and I don't feel short tempered and annoyed at everything I encounter, not excluding my sweet golden retriever.
When I think of a way to weave a thread of hope, an iota of strength, a lesson of faith through this experience, I can only come up with these words:
I still believe that miracles happen every day. I also still believe in happy endings. I know that even the smallest of miracles, in whatever shape or form they are given to us, are God's reminder that He is leading us to our happy ending.
Sometimes I think my heart can't take any more loss. In these last three years, I have lost more than I ever imagined I could endure. I've had my heart broken more than I thought possible. Sometimes, it is so broken that it physically aches in my chest. In spite of these losses and heartbreak, I refuse to lose myself.
The core of my being has always held onto faith, hope, and love. Having that make up in my soul means that I believe in miracles, I believe in happy endings. I believe in the power of prayer.
Maybe God is allowing for another element to be added to my core: bad ass.
Bad ass girls don't give up on miracles and happy endings. We keep praying.
*When I was praying for my pregnancy, I promised God that I would tell others about the miracle He gave us. I promised that I would use this experience to share hope. Lord...it is shared.
**Please pray for me, because the pain is excruciating, because I believe that God will hear your prayer, because I want to become a mom more than anything, because it is time for me to call in the troops...
Sometimes I think my heart can't take any more loss. In these last three years, I have lost more than I ever imagined I could endure. I've had my heart broken more than I thought possible. Sometimes, it is so broken that it physically aches in my chest. In spite of these losses and heartbreak, I refuse to lose myself.
The core of my being has always held onto faith, hope, and love. Having that make up in my soul means that I believe in miracles, I believe in happy endings. I believe in the power of prayer.
Maybe God is allowing for another element to be added to my core: bad ass.
Bad ass girls don't give up on miracles and happy endings. We keep praying.
*When I was praying for my pregnancy, I promised God that I would tell others about the miracle He gave us. I promised that I would use this experience to share hope. Lord...it is shared.
**Please pray for me, because the pain is excruciating, because I believe that God will hear your prayer, because I want to become a mom more than anything, because it is time for me to call in the troops...
