Sucky, sucky May

I've been dreading the blog for the last 2 months, because I knew I'd have to talk about May.  I mean, I don't have to talk about anything, it's my blog for pity's sake, but I simply can't gloss over it and pretend that May didn't happen.  First, because that's not who I am, I don't gloss over life because it isn't pretty.  And second, because not saying anything makes it feel like it never happened, and I don't want to feel like it never happened (well, sometimes I do) (but not really).  Pretending like it never happened might lead people to think that it wasn't a big deal and it didn't affect me much and I've moved on.  But it was a big deal.  It did affect me, a lot.  And I'm not sure exactly how to "move on."

So.  May.  The first half of May I was pregnant.  The second half, I was not.  Clark blogged a bit about my miscarriage and that horrendous week of doctors.  The week where all my hopes were dashed to pieces. 

You see, I had almost given up hope of having another baby.  There was a small sliver of a chance that we'd have another, but I felt strongly that I needed to just wait and see.  That I needed to trust God, and wait.  In my prayers, I told my Heavenly Father that I would need a big push, a HUGE push, before I'd even consider getting pregnant again.  But I also told Him that I wanted a baby so badly, that I was willing to be pregnant again.  My desire was so strong, I was sure I would confuse my desires for spiritual guidance, so I reiterated over and over again that it would have to be a HUGE push, and it would have to obviously be from Him.  So we waited.  And last fall, I felt that push.  After consulting with multiple doctors, I was given the all clear, the go ahead, permission to conceive.  It felt so incredibly right.  I prayed.  I went to the temple.  And it all felt right.  So we went forward.

Then January came, with my yearly echo.  The cardiologist maybe saw something new on the echo.  I needed a cardiac MRI.  Scheduling is a beast, so I finally got the MRI in March.  In April someone finally called me about it, to say maybe I shouldn't be trying to get pregnant.  But too late!  I was already pregnant!  And, again, it felt right.  I was scared what this could mean for my health, but it felt right.  So I thought of it more as a huge blessing that I got pregnant in that window when no one was worried about my health, and now God would see me through this.  I had faith (heaps of faith) that I would be fine, I would have my 3rd baby, and we would all look back at this as a faith promoting experience.  We could knowingly look at each other and point to our faith when the doctors were impressed with how well I did. 

But no.  In May, I had an ultrasound.  And there was no heartbeat.  I had asked Clark to come with me, just in case something like this happened.  But for some reason I can't understand, they didn't allow him to come back into the ultrasound room with me.  Something about needing to get measurements first, and then he could come back.  So I was left sitting there, alone, on the table, not sure what was going on, wishing my husband could just come back and hold my hand.  It was awful. 

They said maybe it was just too early, maybe the dates were wrong, so we need to do some blood work.  After waiting in agony for 2 days, the blood work came back with bad news.  I was miscarrying. 

I appreciated that the doctor was trying to be consoling, but I wanted to punch her face out when she said, "Do you believe in a higher power?  Maybe this is all for the best."  I wanted to yell, "YOU DON'T GET IT!"  I most definitely believe in a higher power.  I am a woman of faith, who follows promptings.  This pregnancy was my prompting!  I had been inspired.  I can't believe that I misread the Spirit.  I was absolutely sure this was the path I was supposed to take.  And now....well, now what?

The day after I got that lovely news I finally (finally) met with someone about my new heart condition.  And I was advised not to have any more children.  And during that appointment, I felt completely at peace.  I was sure I would be a wreck, tears everywhere, but I was not.  It felt clear that this was my new path, I should listen to this new doctor and go forward with only 2 kids.

But don't be mistaken, this still hurts.  A lot.  I felt at peace during that one appointment, but I don't feel at peace all the time when I think about this whole ordeal.  Or even most of the time.  I feel confused, and angry, and even betrayed.  Betrayed by God.  I don't want to feel this way, but I do.  I was finally letting go of any hope, and then suddenly I had not only hope, but a baby on the way!  It all seemed too good to be true!  But oh, nevermind, go back to letting go of all hope.  Why would someone do that?  Why wouldn't He just let me quietly close the door on that part of my life?  Why did we have to ramp up and go out with a bang?

Now that it's been 2 months, I'm finally starting to feel some healing.  I have felt the deep love my Heavenly Father has for me more times than I can count.  I know that He didn't do all this to hurt me.  I know He has a plan for my life, and I don't always get to see what that is while I'm living it.  I will get through all this and I will be fine.  Happy, even.  Time truly is the healer of all wounds. 

In a way, it's nice to have some sort of finality.  We have 2 kids, and we are done.  We can finally get rid of the crib and the baby clothes and the boxes and boxes of baby stuff in our garage.  Except now I don't know what to do with my life.  I'm going to have 2 kids in school this fall.  What on earth am I going to do with my life?  Go back to work?  Go back to school?  Volunteer?  I've done this mom of small children thing for so long now, I don't know what else I would even want to do.  I'm taking all suggestions into consideration, so if you've got one, please share. 

And if you see me, be gentle?  May was rough for me.