Let's back up my story a little, shall we?
When I was in the middle of taking the last round of Clomid, our lovely pastor at church died rather suddenly from a very aggressive form of cancer. He was there one minute, and 30 days later he was gone.
As I was standing in the church at his memorial service I just kept sobbing and sobbing (and, to be frank, sweating, Clomid can be hard on the old body). I could only think of how much I adored him - of him marrying David and I, of him baptising me and a tiny Baby Jack, how he paraded around the church with my precious tiny baby like he was his own pride and joy. And here I was, in the middle of trying so damn hard for so long to have another baby and he wouldn't be there to share that joy with us.
In the church parking lot that day a BIG feather blew right in front of the van. It felt a little like he was holding my hand, another feather from angel's wings, just like when my grandfather died and there were suddenly feathers all over our house.
It was partially because of his death that I decided to come out so early on the blog this time. I have to remember that the time to pray, and to ask for prayers, is BEFORE there is a disaster.
Yesterday, when the anxiety was really starting to mount about the current pregnancy situation, I happened to notice that feather in the hallway.
And for a brief shining moment I thought it would all be okay.
He would hold my hand this morning.
And all of you would hold my hand this morning, just as you have been doing for an entire year.
So this morning I went to the OB's office for that ultrasound.
And despite a trip to the ER last Thursday for some spotting, I saw joy.
The flicker of a tiny heart.
A tiny heart!
I have a baby in there. A genuine baby growing in there. I have a due date on my chart.
I've been lectured on not doing drugs and not smoking (ha!), and honestly? The first time EVER I didn't even care about what I usually think of as insane lectures.
Because they are important lectures.
BECAUSE THERE IS A BABY IN THERE!
I did have to go back to the hospital this afternoon because there is not one, but two gestational sacs in there. And while one looks fantastic, one does not. I am slightly nervous about what is to come with losing that second sac, at this point it is impossible for me to be rational if and when I see blood, but I will deal with that day when it comes.
The woman doing my hospital ultrasound recognized us from last time. (I guess it's easy to remember the woman who has as many pregnancies as a Duggar but only one child?)
She admitted to David while I was using the bathroom that she is in the midst of primary infertility and my heart just aches for her. I have no idea how she can have that job - looking at babies all day, and be in that position.
It has been nearly impossible for me to even *look* at a baby for almost a year now.
And I know that there is no perfectly right thing to say to her.
But what I did say is that when you find yourself in the middle of this shit storm you just might surprise yourself with how deep you are able to dig.
And then she hugged me and we wished each other much luck on this journey.
Oh, What a journey this is.
Another piece of David and I.
And I am *Sure* that Pastor Jim is smiling down on me today. I wish I could thank him, could tell him that even after he is gone he is helping me to grow, to find my faith, to find my feet, to make my way in the world, to be a mother again.
A mama again.
P.S. Let's hope that's the end of the shit storm for awhile, 'kay?