Wednesday, April 14, 2010

See my heart?

To try and give you a glimpse inside my mind over the last month or so (or the last year, for that matter) would only leave me short of describing the emotional roller coaster and mental battle I've had going on within me. Even though I've been told I wear my heart on my sleeve, (and tears and snot on some days) trying to explain my heart will prove to be impossible - mostly because I can't often pinpoint how I feel at most given moments. But I'll try...

Today, I walked out of the doctors office from my "nurses appointment" for the third time this year. I felt tired after listening to all the things I can and cannot do during pregnancy. My nurse was sweet. What is typically an hour long info session where the new mommy-to-be (me) gets to ask any question desired to the nurse (which was me, twice before this time), turned out to be a heart-to-heart with a woman who has watched me walk through one of the hardest years of my life. She has seen me enter a room with anticipation of a beating heart, only to walk out in tears, heartbroken from the lack of life inside me...twice. She has fielded hundreds (hundreds!) of phone calls from me, scheduling appointments, follow-up appointments, offering test results, and two tearful pre-op phone interviews, and she has offered her congratulations and her condolences.

"I was so happy to see your name on my list today, Katie. I can't wait for next week when we get to see your baby on screen again," she said as we walked out of the room.

I walked out her door and headed back down the long hall to my car, fighting back the tears from the love I just felt from a seemingly total stranger. As I was walking, with my bag of books and pamphlets and samples in hand, I saw another door that I've frequented this year - the door to the Surgi-Center where I had both of my post-miscarriage procedures done. I nearly lost my breath as I remembered the last time I walked in those doors, swollen, red eyes, exhausted from my sleepless night before. What finality those doors signified.

And I wondered if I would have to walk through them again soon...

I looked ahead, and kept walking. I felt such tremendous peace and knew I wanted to write about that moment. Why? Why do I share my heart so willingly, exposing my raw pain in detail?

Here's why...

One. I need to keep reminding myself. At some point in my painful journey, I've understood the truth of Christ and really believed in that hope. And at other times, I fail to understand truth, and avoid seeking Christ for help. So I write it down for me. When I'm doubting that truth, I can go back and read what I have known to be true at one point and remind myself that there is Someone else in this with me who can confidently take one foot and put it in front of the other because He's marked that path.

Two. So you (my three or four loyal readers) can see who is guiding my journey. If I wrote this story myself, I'd probably have spoiled the ending already. Thankfully, I'm not the author of my life. I see a new chapter unfold daily and because its such a mystery to me, I KNOW it must be from God. And I want you to see Him.

Three. Because I don't want to miss it. I heard this phrase used this year by a father who had just lost his son. His faith was so solid that he KNEW that something that made so little sense to him had to have a holy purpose, and he didn't want to miss seeing that purpose. And I don't want to miss it either. When I'm buried in diapers and dreadfully tired (Lord willing), I don't want to forget what it felt like to walk past those doors today. I don't want to forget what it feels like to be on my knees in thanksgiving because of a beating heart.

Four. For my babies. Maybe one day, they can read their mom's words and will know the extent of my love for them, and how it pales in comparison to their Heavenly Father's love for them.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

April 7th.

I've heard a lot of things that mom's appreciate while their kids are growing up - things that they are thankful for that they don't want to take for granted. Some as little as a certain type of pacifier or a special "miracle blanket." Some may say its that show that gives them the thirty minutes of peace and quiet. Others will breath the words, "I'm so thankful she wasn't hurt more," or "I'm so glad there's a treatment for that."

And one day, I pray I'll get to that point where I have those things to be thankful for.

But I'm thankful I'm here in this place, on the original due date of our second baby, with just one small thing to be thankful for.

A heartbeat...of our third baby.

And I will never take it for granted.