Letting Go and Letting God: Part 2

After making the decision to keep any buns out of my oven for now, we were hit with the news that I had lost my job.  Perfect.  That's not sarcasm.  Remember, I was miserable there and I completely and totally believe that God has a plan for me.  I turned my attention to getting into school.  I knew that's what I had always been led to do. So, with only a little trepidation, I decided to proceed with reenrolling to my alma mater for one class and applying to grad school for next year.

Talk about hoops to jump through!  I still needed to take the GRE (and do well), but the only way to do that was to drive 3 hours away and take it that week.  Done.  I needed to start shadowing work as part of the admission requirements. Done.  I needed to fill out the application, write an essay, and complete the interview process. Done.

And then we wait... tick tick tick. A whole week till I knew for sure if I got in?!  Painful.

I had found a job (not a great one, but a job) and I turned my focus to that.  But the stress and the nature of my new job got the better of me and I found myself nauseous and tired every day.  By 9 PM every day, I could barely keep my eyes open.  Mornings when I had to be at work at 6 AM made me sick to my stomach.  I got sick with a UTI and nothing sounded good to eat anymore.  I had to force myself to swallow cranberry pills in the morning because we couldn't afford a doctor's appointment for something I could treat at home.  I normally have no issue taking medicine, but I had a ridiculous gag reflex all of a sudden.  My exhaustion and diet caused me to crave things I didn't normally eat like jalepenos.  No one symptom was enough for me to be concerned, but they sure were annoying!

So, I began to overshare on Facebook.  I usually only post good things, but I started to share things like wanting spicy food when I never eat spicy food and getting terrible sleep.  I needed a release for the frustration I was feeling.  Then, came the comments.  Resoundingly, the response was "you're pregnant."  That set me over the edge.  Did no one listen when I told them I CAN'T have babies?!  My ovaries don't want to cooperate!  I'm broken without a reason!  I'm obviously not going to have a child without medical intervention!  Fine, if you're all so sure, I'll test just so I can post the negative result on Facebook!

Oh.

Um.

So, yeah...

I bought 5 tests at the Dollar Tree.  I wasn't going to spend a lot of money and I wanted to have definitive proof that I WASN'T pregnant. The cashier thought it was overkill, but I figured $5 was fine.  So, Sunday morning, I woke before my husband to test that first morning release - supposedly the highest concentration.  If I was pregnant, it would show up now more than ever.  Drop. Drop. Drop. Drop.  Wait for it... wait for it...

I froze. TWO lines?!  I'm... I'm... there is NO way.  This is the moment I had envisioned for years.  How I would tell me husband.  It would have to be brilliant, clever, unique.  It would have to be Pinterest worthy.  What did I do?  I crawled back into bed shaking from head to toe and just asked one question of my sleeping husband - "How do you feel about being a daddy?"  His eyes shot open with excitement or happiness or terror (I'm still not 100% sure) and he started kissing me.  It was the best moment I'd had in a long time.

But, what if the test was wrong.  My logical brain knows there are no false negatives.  You can have a  chemical pregnancy, but you were still sort of pregnant for a second.  Regardless of my knowledge of how these things work, I took 3 of the remaining 4 tests.  I then (because I'm a scientist at heart) made my husband take one.  Turns out, I'm pregnant.  He's not.  Later, we bought an EPT two pack.  I took one.  Definite plus sign.  Two days later, I took the second one.  Still very pregnant!

I scheduled a doctor's appointment and tried to calculate how far along I was, but my body is weird.  I could be 2 weeks pregnant or 2 months pregnant.  No telling.  She felt my tummy and said my uterus was already moving in front of my pelvic bone.  It moves?!  Blood work showed that I am between 7 and 12 weeks pregnant.  I was pregnant for at least two months and had no idea?!

In 3 hours, we will have baby pictures taken.  Sure he or she will be black and white and blurry, but it will be pictures of our baby.  Pictures we can frame and hold and show off.  Pictures of a gift that only God can give.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea of being a new mom and a grad student.  I'm still not 100% sure how we'll pull it off.  What I do know is that God would never put anything in my path that I couldn't handle.

Letting Go and Letting God: Part 1

¹¹ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ¹² Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. ¹³ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

Jeremiah 29:11 - 13

How insanely true that is.  Rather than bombard you with one lengthy post, I will break my story into bite-sized nuggets of Godly deliciousness, so bear with me.

Many years ago, I got the great news that I was a "woman."  I would experience being a "woman" every month for the majority of my life.  My body had other plans.  Occasionally, it would happen monthly, but more often than not, it would happen every few months or so with no regularity.  This was never a major concern to anyone.  I thought it was a blessing, and being irregular was regular in our family.

Eventually, I met my wonderful husband and we decided to get married and start a family.  Not long into the "trying" process, I started having a cycle every two weeks... for two months.  I became very ill - anemic from the blood loss and exhausted from the pain.  Once, I even passed out while making the bed because lifting the sheet to straighten it was too much of a strain on my overtaxed body.

It was time to see a doctor.  I researched and researched and researched.  I asked my Facebook friends to point me to a good, responsible, intelligent doctor who could help me.  I'll be honest; they were wrong.  The doctor I chose sent me in for blood work that they failed to check before having me drive an hour to their office for a follow up visit and offered me fertility drugs rather than anything resembling a natural solution.  Two ultrasounds and a complete blood workup and physical exam yielded nothing but frustration.  There was nothing wrong with me except I wasn't ovulating.  I could get a period without an egg?! News to me.  Second opinion time...

I reached out again to my friends and read online reviews of various doctors in the area.  All the "really good" ones were booked for months.  I settled for a "good" one and went in to see him.  One word: love!  He was thorough and believes, like me, that medicine has its place and it's not always required.  Much to my dismay, he said that we needed to "reboot" me.  Three months of birth control should do the trick.  And so, I took them.  Every pill.  On time.  Every day.  Hoping that this would fix me... that we would be able to have a baby.

But three months changes a lot.  I began to hate my job and, after searching and searching for a new career path, we decided to hold off on the baby so we could discuss me going back to school and figure our lives out a bit.  The doctor prescribed birth control for the next year and a said to call if we changed our minds.  We wouldn't, of course... God would.