Perhaps it's time

It's been a year since I've written anything. Ok, more like 2 years, but it feels like so short a time that if I look at all the things that have happened, I kind of can't believe it. It's so hard to start writing on the blog again. It's hard to decide what to write about. Should I write about things that have happened or just start fresh? I suppose it doesn't matter, but that makes deciding that much harder. 

I've said before that I think we all have moments in time that are frozen in our memories. Moments where time suddenly stalls and things become clear, and strikingly beautiful.  These moments are stored in my brain in HD and most of them I can imagine as clearly as if they happened yesterday.  I've taken to calling them "frozen moments" and I've mentioned them before a few times.

For me, most of these moments tend to be brief, joyful realizations of the beauty around me. It's almost as though God has set a looking glass down before my eyes, allowing me to feel as well as see his love in my life. It's humbling.

I mention this because most of these past 2 years, is cataloged into moments in my memory.
Frozen moments. So many, it's best I just write about a few.

Maybe just the ones that took me by surprise.

----- 

(MYMEMORY)

I lean back onto the examination chair; that little leaf being pulled out at the foot so my feet won't have to dangle off the end. The paper liner crinkles underneath me as I watched the doctor pull the ultrasound machine into the room. I'm excited to finally be in that room, to have made it that long, to have survived the first 12 weeks of pregnancy. The nausea is debilitating, I can feel the reflux in my throat and I suppress the desire to vomit, again.

Lift shirt, cold gel, ultrasound wand, stare at image on the screen... Wait.

Silence.

Deep breath, notice the change in my doctors demeanor... Hold that breath.

Silence.

Cold fear spreads slowly over me.

Silence

I stare desperately at the image on the little screen.

Silence

My doctor turns, looks me straight in the eyes and softly says, "I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat."

Disbelief overwhelms me. My mind spins wildly as it tries to piece together what was happening.
 My doctor starts to talk again but I can barely hear him over the pounding of my heart.
My own heart. It mocks me with its vitality.
I feel Ryan's gentle touch on my shoulder; his way of telling me he's there.

And then I see.(through that looking glass)
I see.
 
The moisture in the eyes of the doctor's assistant.
The slump in the doctors shoulders as he tries to help.
The slight tremor in Ryan's voice, only I can detect.

My heartbreak is undeniable and so overwhelming  in that moment.

And then it passes and we move forward.

I carried my grief with me for a little while. At the time, I would never have thought I'd actually be able to write about it or share my experience with others. It just hurt. But time has given me a new perspective and It's clear my sadness, though very real and oppressing for me, was small in comparison to the sadness this world can make us feel. I am so blessed. God helps me see that and has continued to buoy me up during times of heart ache. This happened 2 years ago, and then again last year.  The heartache during this time had left me feeling pitifully hollow, but the love from my family and the desire I have to understand gods will has filled those hollows with enough hope to journey onward... with thanks and gratitude filling in the rest of the gaps.

He gives, I take. He gives, I take. And sometimes I manage to see what I've been given. He lets me feel it.

Extreme anxiety and stress have been my constant companions these last 9 months. It seems that no matter how fervent my prayers are, I can't manage to unsheathe myself of doubt and worry. It's something I've been working on, and I've prayed constantly for strength and peace.  I expect that striving to understand God's will over my own will, will be a life long journey.

With every week that passes, I send my gratitude heavenward. What a blessing and a privilege to carry this baby with me. I may not be able to shake the worry from my mind but her constant presence has already filled my heart with so much love.


~Jessica