Thursday, August 18, 2016

The Whole Story

Facebook doesn't tell the whole story. That being said, I wish I could’ve summed up our true feelings behind our pregnancy announcement in one honest, yet cheeky catchphrase. “We’re pregnant, but we’re not really that excited because we don’t know what’s going to happen so we’re just praying!” It doesn’t exactly scream for likes. Nor does it tell the whole story.

Less than a year ago, the Man and I went for a 12 week ultrasound with our second baby. I had been feeling pretty nauseous, irritable, and hormonal, so we had no reason to believe anything was wrong. The technician immediately found a fetus, but no blood flow and no heartbeat. Our little one had stopped growing and for whatever reason, my body wasn’t showing any signs of miscarriage. We were given three options: undergo an immediate D&C, take hormone pills to induce a miscarriage, or just wait for my body to respond. After a lot of discussion, prayer, and a second ultrasound, we decided I would take the pills so we could grieve on our own in the privacy of our home. It was devastating and horrible. 

A month later I went in for a follow up, which included several blood tests and more ultrasounds. We discovered that I have a congenital uterine anomaly, and my specific diagnosis poses a significantly higher risk of late-term miscarriage. We were given the option of exploratory surgery, but since the recovery time would only prolong our efforts to try again, we decided against it. Our doctor was optimistic at our chances because I was able to carry the Bear Cub full term, so we would try again and pray. And pray. And pray.

We found out we were pregnant again just after the New Year. At 7 weeks we confirmed a heartbeat and were even able to see our littlest Bear Cub. We waited. We prayed. We guarded our hearts. We spoke in “if’s” and “hopefully’s.” At 12 weeks we heard the heartbeat via Doppler and our doctor cried with us as we rejoiced in the milestone. Two more appointments - both times, a strong heartbeat. At 20 weeks, an ultrasound revealed a healthy and growing baby boy. More tears. More prayer.  

At 29 weeks, I started having regular contractions so we went to the ER (because heaven forbid issues arise during normal business hours, right?). The nurses confirmed that I had started progressing, so I was given two different medications to stop labor. They worked and we were able to go home. Repeat 5 days later. More gray hairs. More prayers than ever. 

Now we're here, just a week shy of full-term. I'm hesitant to say we "made it," but as far as we know, our littlest Bear Cub is strong, healthy, and still growing. And I am a whale. As it should be.

We don't know what is to come, but we are continuing to seek His will, in His timing, for His glory. Behind every post is a story. This is ours. A testament of God’s faithfulness and provision, regardless of the outcome. May it always be so. 

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