Living with the fear

This pregnancy has been a fairly easy one.  I've never experienced fatigue quite like this, and I'm incredibly nauseous despite taking the strongest dose of meds I can, but these symptoms are ultimately blessings because they calm my anxious mind.  On days when I feel better, when I don't want to curl up in bed, I start to worry.  So, I'll take these symptoms.  At least for a little bit longer, until I feel kicks.  Then there's really no point to them anymore, and they can surely be gone!  And, I've only had 1 emergency appointment so far.  All things considered, this is good for me.  By this point with Reagan, I had experienced miscarriage of her twin.  By this point with the boys, I had been hospitalized for a week, told I was having a miscarriage, then told my water broke, then sent home to miscarry in my own timing.  And by this point with Hannah, I was having such terrible anxiety I could hardly function.  

But I received some unsettling news at my appointment this week.  I've spent the last several days playing it over and over in my mind.  I have another subchorionic hemorrhage (SCH).  Now, I haven't taken the time to google this, though I believe it is fairly common.  I think the doctor said 5-10%?  Not entirely sure, I completely quit listening when she said those words.  Why?  Because, that is what started the problems with Warren and Dean.  I had a massive SCH.  Now, this one is not nearly as large, at least at this point, but immediately I started having flashbacks to those early days with the twins.  I think I'm too weak to handle something like that again.  When I closed my eyes there, all I could see was the blood.  Everywhere.  Maybe that's too graphic for a public blog, but there it is.  I've never seen anything like that before.  So now it seems I get to sit and wait around for the clot to come out, for the bleeding to resume, for something to happen.  Doc used the word when, not if.  And we have a long drive to get to an office that can visualize what is going on.  I have this image of me being out with the kids, hemorrhaging at the park and arguing with them to get them to the car and buckled in their carseats so we can get to the hospital.  It sounds extreme as I type it, but it's a very real possibility.  I just hate that THAT is my first thought as I plan an outing.  My escape.  How I can, as quickly as possible, get everyone to the car and get out of there without drawing too much attention to ourselves.  

As the doctor is rattling on about my increased risk of miscarriage and how there's nothing they can do about it, I'm having a near panic attack as I relive that moment of 4 years ago.  As I imagine my kids living that moment alongside of me.  And do you know what this tells me?  My faith is so weak.  I know in my head that God is in control, that He has this little one in his hand, that this child was planned and his days are counted.  And I know in my head that God loves me, loves my child.  But, here's the difficulty, I don't trust these truths with my heart.  Because Reagan is dead, and how can I wrap my head around that??  Because my pregnancy with Warren and Dean was so horrific, they were so early.  Even though I know God worked a miracle in their lives, that they - according to every doctor I was seeing - shouldn't have survived that first trimester or those nights in labor, I still question why He chose for those to be their statistics in the first place.  I mean, what is wrong with me?  That I could see God's hand so clearly at work, so clearly loving our family, and still find a way to question his goodness and mercy.  "Oh, the depth of Your riches".  How I pray I might more fully grasp the truth of this verse, as I so quickly listen to the other voices.  

All this to say, please be praying for this precious little one.  For God to protect this life, for a full term pregnancy, and for completely healing from the SCH.  But also for my heart - for me to trust that God is love and mercy, even when I don't feel it.  For me to spiral down into self pity and despair, waiting for something awful to happen.  For me to find joy while pregnant, delighting in this little life God has entrusted with me.