With Heaping Portions of Hope and Nausea

If there's anything this year has taught me, it's that I am not in control.

And while this is a difficult lesson for anyone to learn, it has not been without some resolve. It has been a source of relief and comfort. And it has meant the renewal of hope and thanksgiving in my heart.

So. . . it is with open hands and excitement and uncertainty and fear and heaping portions of hope and nausea, that I get to say: we are expecting another baby!

I know the risks of making announcements at this time, this time of "not being in the clear" or "out of the woods," but as those who have mourned with me, I know I can also trust you to rejoice with me! And I know that if we go down that road of loss again, that I would have all kinds of arms around me and all manner of friends in my midst.

So! I am just shy of nine weeks; I am due on June 27; and yesterday I got to see a fast little patter of a heartbeat on the ultrasound. I shed a few tears after the doctor left the room. It was such a relief, such a happy moment.

Going over the medical history of my last two years, I see the doctor typing on my chart. I know what "SAB" stands for on the line of my third pregnancy. Those words that us faint of heart mothers wouldn't like to hear, those of us who ached to see our pregnancies through to the end, sudden abortion. Miscarriage has less connotations. It's easier on the soul. Yet, as I've said before, the term still sits inadequate with me.

But I try to focus on the two lines above, the lines with names. And birth dates. And I watch her type in the fourth pregnancy, with all manner of hope, type the expected due date, type 8 wks 4 days. I listen to her say that there's no reason to believe this pregnancy won't be healthy. I listen to her say that it's a great sign that I feel so sick.

So today, I'm thankful for that misnomer of morning sickness, that it keeps me aware that things are happening. I'm thankful that I've had more healthy births than not. I'm thankful that I see a doctor who listens and cares. I'm thankful that I get to be pregnant with some of my favorite people (so many!). I'm thankful that joy still seeps in underneath all that unbelief and worry, and that eventually it bewitches us.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

                --Emily Dickinson