I wish you could see the drafts in my blog admin site.

I wish you could read the hope that was there.  I’ve even thought about publishing it.  maybe….someday.

Some will think poorly of me for this post, and I really don’t care.  It is my blog after all.

I first will share that I lied to all of you in an earlier post.  The one about 6 months ago we were pregnant. That part was true, however……….

yesterday we were also pregnant.

I learned this the weekend before Memorial Weekend.

Joe greeted this news with “Man, we are fertile people” and a huge smile.  We were excited and hopeful.

However, the next day was the day we learned of the pending cancer test and held our breath.  We told only our parents and a few very close family/friends.

Upon passing the test we let our internal excitement grow.

We attended Molly’s baptism with thoughts spoken between Joe’s Mom & Us about the fact that in January we too would be holding a baptism of our own.

This baby was even due on Joe’s dad’s birthday.  We thought it might be fate.

Fast forward a bit.

I’m really sick this time.  So sick, that I wonder to Joe quite often if it’s twins, and how fun that might be.  We giggle, toss names around, and hope that the ultrasound I had to follow up on the cancer thoughts will show that all is well with the baby too.

Now, it’s June 18th.  We are almost 8 weeks along.  We go to the clinic for the ultrasound and pray.

The tech says “I see a gestational sac”…. I’m not yet happy though, because we’ve seen that once before.

Then she says “I see a yolk sac and a heartbeat.”

You could audibly hear the breath leave my body.  I was ELATED. We were elated.

10 min later, we were back to the fearful place.  The tech was having a hard time getting the heartbeat to register.

Here is where I sit in my head, and ask God for things like “let it just be because I’m too fat.  Let it be because the tech is an intern…. let it just be a technical mistake….let it be anything but what I’m thinking it is….”

A second tech enters (she’s being doing this for years) and they try to hide from me the fact that the baby’s heart rate is only 73 beats per minute.

“That’s Low” I say

“Yes, it is. But every heart needs to start somewhere” she says. (startled a little that I caught on)

that’s.reassuring.

We wait the weekend after a call asking an OB nurse for more answers.  She says it’s really no big deal at this point.  The baby looks good in all other aspects and my Doctor will call.  I get a message at 9:30 p.m. on Monday from my doctor.  She says that the “heart rate was normal at times and at times low.  We will need to re-check in 2 weeks time to ensure that it goes up.”

Ok, so captain positive comes out. (that’s Joe in tough times) He reassures me that it will be fine despite what we find in google searches.

We carry on.

Sad that we cannot announce our news at my nephew’s birthday party,  but hopeful that it will be ok.

We wait, we deal with Luke’s ordeal, we pray more.  I comment here and there how I’m not feeling as sick and yet still sick at times.  I also comment that I am having some cramping beginning on the second night of Luke’s hospital stay.

BUT, (TMI folks, sorry) when I use the restroom, there are no “other” indications.  So, I dismiss it as maybe stress.

The cramps continue through out the week here and there.  Again, not worried but curious.

Until last night.  It never even dawned on me till I looked down.  I had been checking and getting no indication and then I just looked and there it was.  The brightness of the red hits you like a hammer to the chest and you just freeze.

I called Joe into the bathroom and we just held each other.

Ironically, Luke entered just then and said, “I see you, see you Momma.”

Here was my smallest son, at my side, healthy again, seeing me.  There is no time to cry now.  Joe scoops him up for a kiss and I excuse myself to the basement.  I know what’s coming…. yet I had hoped it would not happen.

I sit, and all at once, I fall apart. Silent as I can be at first, and as Joe descends the stairs I know the kids are headed for dream land.

Once the kids were in bed the ugly cry came out.  We called my dad and I could barely speak.  I wasn’t surprised that had miscarried, but I was still so very devastated.  That part surprised me.  Why?  I have no clue.  I thought we had been through this before and I would be tougher this time.

Wrong.

Try again Amy.

This news is probably no one’s business, and I don’t need to justify myself; but I do want to say this.

I posted this info out here for me.  Joe’s private and he will deal with this in his own, quiet, stoic way.  He supports my need to be open and I support his need to hold it in.

I’m one to share.  I need to say that I’m hurting.  I need to put it out there and help myself move on.

I don’t know how I, or we, for that matter, feel about the future.  I know we want more kids but I don’t know if we want to go through this again.

For now, I will curl up in Joe’s arms and feel safe there.  Knowing that all we have been through this year has only made us stronger.  Knowing that He has a plan for us and while I don’t fully get it right now and am growing impatient with all we have expeirenced, He loves us.  He is our guide and I pray that He walks beside us till we see the window He left open.

A friend shared this with me today and I feel like it fits.

“Sometimes there isn’t a reason for why things happen as much as we wish there were.  Sometimes God lays out plans for us and He doesn’t always get His way.  So, He lays beside us and hurts for us as well.”

I’m sorry Amy, I know it’s not exactly what you said but the general idea is there.

Lastly,  Joe called me up Monday and said “have you heard the song, ‘I run to you’?”  I said that I hadn’t and looked it up.  Here it is…. so fitting for us in this moment in time.

Thank you for reading.  Thank you for your love in the past.  Thank you for not making it awkward, should I see you in the future.