My biggest fear in this season is losing our little baby we’ve fallen head over heels in love with and having to put all the broken pieces back together again.
We are just shy of nine weeks today, and it is both terrifying and so very exciting.
I feel, with each week, I get bolder and bolder and I find myself wanting to share this precious news with more and more people.
My best friend is partially surprised that I haven’t shouted it from the rooftops, because I am the girl that cannot keep a secret especially if it’s a heart happy one
I couldn’t tell her the reason for a long time because I couldn’t even get the words out, afraid that a sobbing dam would be released and I wouldn’t be able to take it all back.
I can’t tell my Amie I’m pregnant with the child we prepared for because I am so afraid she will get so excited and we might lose this child and I would break some more her already broken heart.
It’s so stupid, I tell Arch. And I tell her I know it’s stupid and an irrational fear and that Amie would be sadder she didn’t know than if she did.
But I can’t.
It’s the same reason I can’t tell my fairy godmother. Because I know she will cry, and I know she will be so so happy for us, and I know she will be overjoyed and I am scared to death that we might miscarry and I will break her heart all over again.
I’m also so afraid to tell my friends that are in this season of waiting. There are too many of them that have struggled and wrestled and want so desperately to be where we are and I feel guilty and strangely so overprotective of their hurt.
Because I know that in our season of waiting, as we debated and waited on God and our hearts and our brains to somehow agree that we would start trying, that even though I knew I wasn’t ready for children, it would still break my heart even though I was so excited for the person announcing their pregnancy because I so desperately wanted to be ready.
I know they will be so happy for us, but I also know that it will break their hearts with the should have beens and I struggle with that guilt.
And so we wait.
First to hear a heartbeat because once you do, then statistically, the risks for a miscarriage drops to 5%.
Or maybe for the first trimester to be over because then we are a little bit more in the clear and can start preparing.
But in the back of my head and my heart, I know that life doesn’t work that way.
That we can have all the statistics and percentages but there are no guarantees on which way the pendulum can swing.
There are a billion kazillion what ifs that can and will keep you up so very late at night.
I know, because they have kept me up so so many nights even before we decided to have a baby as I wrestled with God and begged to learn to submit to His will for our children and to make peace with whatever happens.
Today, they welcomed the bodies of some of MH17 home.
A plane just shot out of the sky and lives violently cut short in the middle of their story.
And tonight, a friend shared that they lost their twins in-utero in their second “safe” trimester.
This friend was mostly just an FB friend. A friend from afar but when we first heard our little poppy seed’s heartbeat at our appointment the other day, I thought about that friend and how it’s been so fun to read his status updates on his growing twins, that awe and wonder and joy that is so hard to describe.
An invisible kinship with someone you barely know but gets it.
How do you prepare for tragedy and how do you prepare for the worst when the worst might just be far more unspeakable than you ever imagined?
And as a tide of love surrounds my friend and comment after comment, notification after notification floods his timeline, his friends and his kampung stood up and showed up and held his little family today.
My biggest fear is losing our baby and today, my friend lost both his babies.
It’s horrifying to type that out and we are grieving for their so big shattered dreams.
Oh my heart.
I wish I could, for just a second, give them the peace and comfort they need, but I know that this is a long and lonely hard journey ahead for them of the what ifs and the could have beens and the should have beens and I can only offer all my not even remotely close to being enoughs.
And in the midst of such heartache, what I learned tonight is that I’m going to need my Amie and my fairy godmother, my Archanananana and my mama, my Koren and my Mervin and our people if we lose our tiny little already so loved baby.
We’re going to completely fall apart for a while and hurt so so much in the dark and in places we don’t even know exist yet, we’re going to need our kampung to just stand in for us a while, to remind us to breathe and to remind us of God’s purpose and plan in our ashes.
So tonight as J lays his hands on my growing belly to pray for our little one and for these cramps to please please stop, I whisper a prayer for courage and strength.
I know that there is no other way we will get through the rest of 31 weeks and a lifetime ahead without submitting to Him and so I pray that we always find peace in His will.
Tomorrow, it’s a little step, but a big step, and I know that tomorrow, I will be closer to feeling prepared to share our so so big news no matter how much it scares me to say it out loud.
It’s the what ifs.
The what ifs will kill you.
But God’s could be’s is what lets me breathe again.
“Sometimes it’s not about a 9-page love letter. Sometimes, it’s just about how she wrote the whole thing in your favorite color.”
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