the tears behind the bump..... ectopic pregnancy, heartache and trust.

A photo speaks a thousand words they say, but sometimes the "words" come from the mind of the reader and those words or perceptions aren't really embracing the reality of the photo or should I say, the reality behind the photo.

We were so excited recently to share the news of our pregnancy with our friends and family. The encouragement, excitement and hugs have been so precious. There is something about the news of a new life that just makes people want to celebrate. The joy of a new beginning, the amazement of a tiny human growing beneath my heart, I'm baffled by the overwhelming reality every day as I sit in amazement that there is a baby in my belly. The truth is that the heartache that can accompany pregnancy or the lack thereof is not lost on me. Im an adoptee, that means that the very heartache that can surround an unwanted/unplanned pregnancy and the pain and hurt that surrounds the very real issue of bareness and the struggles that are a companion to infertility have always been very close to my heart, they are a part of my life, a part of my very begining. Ive always been very aware of the HUGE "blessing" that pregnancy is and at the same time I hesitate to say blessing because what does that mean for the many precious women I know who find that blessing in different ways or who don't get to enjoy that "blessing" at all. Its so hard to embrace the very sweetness that can cause so much heartache and joy all mingled together in one little bundle of sweet baby squishiness without thinking of the many women who meet another persons joyful announcement with the sting of hurt. Its messy and its often full of confusion and questions and I cant pretend to know the answers, only that I see the hurt and I know a tiny bit of the pain as its so close to home for me and it makes my heart ache. Ive been so thankful to experience two pregnancies previously, but the road to this pregnancy was filled with bumps and heartache of my own. Two years ago today, I found myself standing as a patient in the chemo office (ironically during the same period in which I was helping to take care of my sister and taking her to all of her chemo appointments). Three weeks prior to that day I had a positive pregnancy test. Normally pregnancy tests are exciting but I was bleeding some on the very day I took the test. Looking back, I cant remember what prompted me to take that test, thankfully I did. I called my Dr. and he had me begin what would be a grueling few weeks of blood testing every other day to monitor my levels. The levels showed that I was clearly pregnant, the third day the levels rose but they didn't double. My Dr. was very honest that it looked like the symptoms of an ectopic pregnancy. I had absolutely no idea what that was or why it would be happening but I tried to prepare myself for the loss, all the while holding on to the tiny bit of hope that the pink lines of that pregnancy test meant there was life inside of me, capable of surviving. Every other day I sat in a waiting room full of people with my bruised arms hoping that the numbers would do the right thing, that this baby would thrive and each time my precious Dr. called me and tried his best to be very direct with me about the reality and danger of the situation. Joey and I went in for an ultrasound and the only thing they could see was a small area near my left tube. This, along with my symptoms and the numbers from my blood work confirmed that I was indeed experiencing an ectopic pregnancy. The room felt like a blur. My options were a shot of MTX or to have the tube (and the baby) removed. It was overwhelming to visibly confirm and then let go of a pregnancy all within an hour. Desperate, confused and woing if there were any other options I asked if there were any way to move the baby, any way the baby could survive. My Dr. consoled me and talked me through the reality that my numbers were trying to rise because this baby was trying to survive but it was impossible because of where the baby was located. There was no way to move the baby and the baby would not survive either way that I looked at the situation. My Dr. shared the bleak reality that if I didn't choose the shot or the surgery, this pregnancy could kill me too. An eruption of my tube and internal bleeding were very real possibilities. As my Dr. gently asked which I would like to do, I could only cry and tell him that all of the options were awful. I didn't want ANY of these options, come to think of it I didn't like anything in this whole situation. I can typically find the good in any situation, its a quality and a fault at times but at that moment there was nothing good, nothing redeeming about this situation and I just couldn't make sense of any of the why's running through my mind. Ultimately we decided that since I needed to be at an MRI in Atlanta with my sister the following Monday, the MTX shot was the best option, with the best recovery time and best chance at salvaging my tube. I went in for the shot on Friday, it was my birthday and this was not the birthday celebration I had hoped for. I sat in that cold waiting room and I remember feeling like I was here choosing to take the life of my baby and unstoppable tears streamed down my face. The nurse came in to confirm my information and I spoke through tears confirming the reality and trying to smile. Why I felt guilt for crying and the need to try to smile and be pleasant is beyond me. While I waited for the Dr, tears still streaming, I noticed a scripture in a small frame. Honestly, I don't even remember what verse it was but I remember that it gave me peace and reminded me that I have a Savior who knew this baby, who was not surprised at this situation, but would use it somehow for His glory and that He loved me even when it felt to me like He must certainly be making some mistakes. The shot was painful and it burned but it was quick. I think I went home and cried all weekend but it really is a blur because Monday morning,I was up early with a smile plastered on my face to take my sister into her MRI. My body hurt with every step that I took on those concrete floors but I would gladly do it all again knowing how little time I had left with my sweet sister. This photo below, its that day at the MRI. You'd never know from my Facebook post that I'd just lost an ectopic pregnancy two days before, but thats the limited "truth" allowed by the photo.

A few months later my Dr recommended a dye test (I think it was called an HSG) to see if my tubes were cleared. Let me just be honest here, this test was so painful. Ive read on "Dr. google" that it isn't this painful for some women, but it seemed that my left tube was blocked and the dye couldn't get through so the pressure of the dye trying to push through my tube hurt in a pain almost equivocal to a root canal. I think I nearly squeezed poor Joeys hand right off but I was so thankful he was there with me for that. The Dr. explained that my left tube was still blocked. So blocked that the dye could not get through at all and that because of that I should either have the tube removed or remain on some sort of birth control to avoid another ectopic pregnancy. I had none of the prior issues that would have led to an ectopic pregnancy other than two previous c sections, which meant I walked into this test confident that everything was going to be fine and I just sat confused as the Dr. gave me all of this news. My Dr. reminded us that these things just happen sometimes and that we did have a 50% chance of a pregnancy from my healthy tube without having the blocked tube removed but there was the life threatening risk of an ectopic to consider as well. It was all overwhelming again. Joey and I prayed through all of our options. Ultimately, a year later, we decided that having the tube removed would be the safest option. So in October of 2017 I had my left tube removed. The surgery wasn't painful but the recovery and the three tiny incisions that I could barely see were pretty painful and I remember being so worried that they might accidentally take both tubes. I healed from that surgery and we prayed some more about which direction to go as far as adding to ur family was concerned. We knew that at this point an ectopic was technically still a slight risk just because Id had one before, but that we had hopefully eliminated that issue with the tube removal. When it got down to it we decided that three kids and a dog was probably plenty and we should move forward enjoying life. Now, outwardly I was completely on board with this plan, it was a joint decision. I was on board with our family being complete. Until one day, it hit me that these years would be over. Let me be very clear.. I recently read , "Girl wash your face". I LOVE that book but when I got to the chapter about chasing your dreams, creating goals and making money to buy a house in Hawaii, I just couldn't relate. Yes a house in Hawaii would be nice I suppose, but not nice enough to make me want to loose time with my kiddos. I have a college degree in a field that I am sincerely passionate about, Ive run my own photography business. It was successful, I loved it but ultimately it was never my goal, it was a means to an end for me, a way to provide and make sure my children needs were met. My passion, the very heart of everything I want in life is rooted in being a mom. I admire women who are driven and have these goals of business and success, I think that is so wonderful for them but for me, it sincerely all lies in loving these kiddos. Sure, I think Ill get back to my passion with social work again one day when these kids are older but for now this, this being in carlines, going on all the field trips, making snacks and cooking dinner, it is my dream come true. It is not for every body, but it makes my heart soar, it is where its at for me, there is no greater joy in my life than taking care of people, and being able to be home has been such a blessing for our family. SO thats what hit me like a ton of bricks one day... the reality of those years being gone, all done, no more babies. This phase of life was nearing an end as these babies get older and I think I cried on and off and wrestled with God for three days. I tore into my Bible and I begged him to change my heart, to give me a peace, to make me content with the children we have, to let me know that this was His plan and that I was done, to help me to embrace it and move forward. It was a struggle, but my heart finally caught up with truth and the reality that Im not really in control of this whole pregnancy thing after all.I had a peace and was ready to move forward enjoying our family just the way it was. This past May Joey and I sat on the beach watching our kids play and had a talk about trusting Gods plan for our life, having peace in our reality and God's will.... we talked around in circles a bit but ultimately decided that the best thing to do would be to "let go and let God"... just see what happened and know that we would have peace either way. In the middle of June I took a pregnancy test. This is typical for me because I often take a class C medication and I like to check before I take those meds. The test didn't turn right away so I threw it in the trash. The next day, I took the second test just for the heck of it and it turned positive. I sat in shock while Joey was getting dressed in the other room. I pulled the test from the day before out of the trash and guess what? It had turned too. I left the test on the counter for Joey to find. He saw it and he was so confused too. Y'all, it was like we were two teenagers in shock and how that test got pink, why was it pink?? We hugged and cried and in the back of my mind I held back because of fear. Every day, I waited for the bleeding, for the loss and the hurt and day after day it didn't come. Instead the nausea came along and I spent weeks.. I am not even kidding you weeks just laying in bed or laying on the couch nearly in tears trying to make myself eat oyster crackers, saltines and trying each different medication that my Dr. prescribed to no avail. Finally, 8 weeks in we saw the sweet baby in my belly, in the right place and we cried at the sound of a sweet little heartbeat. Because I was so sick, we had to go ahead and tell the children because my little nurses were worried about me... well, minus the one that caught sight of my pregnancy app, he may have had a clue. The last few years have been a whirlwind of pain and heartache that has drawn us closer together but thats the story of the reality behind this sweet baby bump. Its not all rosy, but its all stitched together and easier to survive with the common thread of Christ bringing me back to truth through all of the fearful wanderings in my heart. And finally, at 13 nauseated weeks (still) I can let myself get excited about the miracle of life. Also not pictured, me... on the couch for 8 weeks trying to keep down these cheese its and making laps between here and the toilet.. cause that is reality y'all.