I sat with nervous hands on my chest while the technician squirted warm gel on my belly and turned the monitor screen toward me. It was at that moment that I bit my lip to choke back tears.
For a minute I pretended that I was pregnant.
I thought about what it would be like to sit there looking at my baby on the screen. To hear the swish swish of her heart beat and catch a glimpse of her teeny tiny fingers.
I thought about what it would be like to have the most fantastic secret. To see Ben's eyes get wide with excitement and then fill with tears.
I thought about how fun it would be to announce our pregnancy over Christmas festivities - how surprised everyone would be to hear that the girl who couldn't get pregnant, did.
In order to make it through the ultrasound, I, quickly, returned to reality and hammered the technician with questions regarding fibroids, the retroverted uterus that I didn't know I had, and how far technology has come in regards to hysterectomies....After all, that was why I was there.
I hate writing these posts because they shed negative light on the miraculous arrivals of my sons and make me sound ungrateful toward God's goodness...but I have to write these nagging pieces of my story that quiet for a time, but always resurface.
I went in for my annual a few weeks ago and told my doctor about some irregularities that I am experiencing. It only has me concerned because my mom had similar symptoms and had a hysterectomy at 31. I turned 31, this year. The doctor agreed that further testing was needed and sent me in for ultrasounds, today.
I have been operating under a heavy cloud for a couple of weeks thinking about it. Even though I don't think God will open my womb down the road (he has us on a greater mission!), the thought of closing the door to all possibility fills me with sadness.
My heart nearly tore out of my chest, today, watching the ultrasound monitor. I had many pelvic ultrasounds when we were going through fertility treatments, but this was the first time I had one, topically. As fun as it was to dream for a few minutes, it was devastating to come back to the real world.
It's something I can't talk about....not even with Ben.
It's just this secret place in my heart that I don't venture to very often. A place where I can long to be normal and wish that babies didn't have to come at such sacrifice.
I let my dark cloud dampen my heart for the rest of the day, until LJ snuggled up into my arms and fell asleep on my chest. That boy longs for affection and comes for it when he needs it most. I held him tight and thanked God for the family that he's building...so rich and colorful and full of life.
I know he understands my sadness and desire for more children. He hugs me close, whispers I love yous, and assures me that his plan is still unfolding...
What great peace I find in that promise.