No. I promise. I won't blog every other day during this interesting time in my life. If I do wind up really being pregnant, wouldn't that be something to the tune of about 140 blog posts and I'm pretty sure that 1) I don't have the desire to type that much, or 2) I think I would start seeing squirrels when I tried typing that much, or 3) someone in this house would risk being neglected....namely, my husband. :)
So, temp was 98.9 again today. Felt nauseous. Had some cramping. Decided to have an internal panic attack when said cramps started because I was at Wegmans and the thought of hemorrhaging at Wegmans isn't exactly on my top 10 things to do before I leave New York....
Let me explain my paranoia. I'll call it what it is. Anxiety induced paranoia. I'm no doctor, but I did, I swear to you, stay at a Holiday Inn Express once.
During the course of my awesome hubs and I trying for baby #6 (who is actually #10-four are in Heaven). We experienced an extremely painful period of our lives. Our first miscarriage had occurred after our 3rd little peanut turned 1. John Matthew. That was difficult. We had actually seen him at 6 weeks with a heart beat and moving around, just an amazing view of such a tiny little peanut of life. Three weeks later, I went in and had another ultrasound, and he had no heartbeat and wasn't much bigger than he was 3 weeks prior, indicating he didn't live much longer after we saw him. It was hard, but we managed.
After our 5th was born, we relocated to New York and the urge to try again was overwhelming. During the next three years, I would experience 3 more miscarriages. It was horrible. The last miscarriage was probably the biggest nightmare I could ever dream of happening. I had begun to miscarry at home, wound up hemorrhaging at home and passing out on the toilet the next morning. My husband rushed me to the hospital where they determined I still had part of the pregnancy still attached to the lining still producing quite a bit of blood. (I said earlier I was an anomaly). We decided to do an emergency D&C. It was once again, the most traumatic experience of my life. I didn't know what was worse, panicking every time a blood clot passed, wondering if I had "saved" my baby to bury, or lying on that bed anticipating the pregnancy truly being over after that surgery. I was a hot mess for many months.
A year later, we were blessed with our little Kiki. It was amazing. But during the pregnancy, it never failed that every single time I went to the bathroom, I anticipated blood. I couldn't stop myself. Literally. I would hold my breathe, wipe, and release my breathe.
Well, guess what I do now?
I immediately expect blood. Perhaps it's a survival mechanism that prevents me from just waiting and enjoying the time without my period (I've tried to convince my hubs this COULD be menopause). But panic sets in and breathe is held and then when no blood appears, breathe is exhaled.
A lack of faith? I suppose you could say that. I don't ever feel I completely trust my Father. It's something I struggle with daily. But I know my Father is only interested in the fact that I am trying. He knows how hard it is to be in this situation. I have no doubt, He cried tears with me during that difficult time. He loves life. He would never purposely snuff the life out of me. He is not a puppet master either. Yes, I do believe He can make miracles, but He also uses those things we can not explain, to help us grow deeper in our faith. I do believe I grew in my faith during that ordeal. I am more aware than ever just how fragile life is.
Anyway- see how I saw a squirrel? I was at Wegmans and the cramps were actually very mild, and I'm positive that some cramps when pregnant for the 11th time (that just sounds unreal) brings a bit of cramping to a uterus that has been "slightly' used. I'm trying to find the joy in everything. I'm trying to see the joy, that once again, God has blessed us with a potential life. A week from today I will know for certain. No I will not take a pregnancy test, I will just rely on my trusty thermometer and if my temp stays elevated, I can probably with certainty say I am and I will call the OB and see what they say. I am definitely in that, "geriatric" pregnancy age. You know the one. People gasp because at 40, 1 in 100 births are born with Down Syndrome, and age 45 1 in 30. Not to mention, the fact that most doctors will read you a plethora of other deformities, abnormalities, and maternal issues that will "likely" occur because I am so old.
Fortunately, my doctor is an NFP doctor. He might try to reassure me, and chuckle at my paranoia, but he knows how rock solid we believe all life is, and won't even offer a suggestion of what "could be" so we can "take care of" our little peanut.
So today, and this weekend, and until next Thursday, I am going to focus on finding the joy... in everything. The good and the bad.
Finding the joy.....