Today I got up feeling pretty good. Which totally has to be a bad sign. I woke up an hour after I went to sleep last night and had to pee so bad I thought I was going to die. I laid there in bed wondering what to do ... should I just try to coax it back down in order to save the progesterone supplement I'd inserted an hour before? After a few minutes debate, my body protested and won. I got up and went to the bathroom in the dark. And although I didn't have my glasses on and didn't have the heart to check anyway, I'm pretty sure I flushed my entire suppository down the drain.
The last few days, Tuesday and Wednesday especially, have been rough. Those two days I felt horrible (more horrible than usual). I had to call John about an hour after taking my second suppository and beg him to come home because my daughter woke up and I felt like I'd been hit by a truck and was teetering on the edge of vomiting. I didn't end up throwing up but I went right back to bed when he got home. As weird as it is to say all of it was a little encouraging. But today? I feel ok. And in my mind this has to be bad. I feel like i"m fighting a losing battle. I fully expect bad news at the doctor next week. He was kind enough to offer us another ultrasound next Wednesday so that we have "peace of mind." I am glad we won't have to wait until the end of the month to find out what's going on.
I am so thankful that there has been an option available to help this pregnancy. Modern medicine is truly awesome. BUT. It seems like at every step of the way there has been some obstacle to remind me that I have no control over anything that happens or doesn't happen. I faithfully take my suppositories three times a day and lie down for a lot more than ten minutes when I take the daytime ones. They have helped me mentally feel like I can at least do something, but in the end I know in my heart of hearts that if this pregnancy is doomed to fail then it will. No progesterone supplement can fix that. And that really sucks. I want control. I want results. I want to know that what I'm doing is working. That there is some guarantee. But no one can give it to me. I hate it.
My family comes into town next Thursday. My sister is running the LA Marathon. We had originally planned to do it together but I backed out and fessed up to her that we hoped I would be pregnant by then. I wonder if I will? I have grappled hard with whether or not to tell my mom and sister about any of this. With the last miscarriage my mom basically told me she'd rather not know because she has never had a miscarriage and can't empathize. I'm not worried about protecting her ... if you can guess she's a rather tough old bird. It's more me. My family doesn't know how to deal with these losses, how to talk to me about it, what to do. It ends up being awkward and painful for me and I don't want to deal with it. I usually end up comforting THEM, rather than them comforting me. It's screwed up. But if I still have harsh symptoms and have to take my pills and lie down after, I'm not sure what I'll say. They will catch on ... we have a small house and it will be very crowded (my sister is bringing her boyfriend and another friend to cheer her on).
I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens next week. Monday: blood draw. Tuesday: blood test results. Wednesday: ultrasound.
A passage from the Bible written by Paul has really been speaking to me this week. It touches on how God can meet us in our brokenness. I really need that badly right now. I feel like a broken, disabled person a lot lately. Which is probably true. The good news is that this baby does have hope. It's just not in my hands.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10
"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore
I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake,
I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
This certainly doesn't mean that I didn't wish I knew what was around the corner, what the end result will be. It doesn't mean that I'm not desperate to know what my progesterone count is every second of the day. But I guess it does mean that it's ok for me to be broken. That God is greater than all of this. He loves me and he loves Rocky more than I ever could. I am searching for comfort in this. It is not to be found anywhere else.
Off to eat bread and cheese and lounge in my bed until the girl gets up from her nap. Thanks for your support and kindness to us. It really does mean the world to me.
