October is a celebration month for me.
For the past 5 years I've started my tradition of listening to Christmas music, October 1st because it gives me a good solid 3 months to get it all in.
October is also the 5 year mark for my baby sister to be cancer free! Not actually a baby anymore, this girl is the most beautiful miracle of my life. Her life is proof to me that God's will is way more perfect than my own.
And I've needed that reminder this October.
This October marked one year of trying for Baby Mo #1.
Month after month of negative tests or that dreaded monthly mess, the tears and sobbing have become uncontrollable. My heart has never been so broken before. To me, it's different than the heart break after a relationship break-up because it happens every 33 days, as if on an ungodly timer.
Every 33 days my broken heart gets smashed just one more time.
Every 33 days my hope builds just high enough to feel like I get thrown from the Eiffel Tower.
Every 33 days I lay on the bathroom floor, grasping my stomach, begging God to let this one stick. Just. This. One.
In May, I went to the Dr. to make sure everything was ok, expecting her to say something like, "Everything looks good, just keep trying sweetie." But instead I got, "Your hormone levels are out of balance and it looks like you may be having chemical miscarriages." [Definition: An egg that fertilizes but never attaches to the wall of your uterus.] At first, I was confused, not really understanding what she was telling me, and then I wished I could turn back time and run out of that office before those words could ever spring from her mouth. The rest of the appointment all I heard was, "Try til October...do some tests...see a specialist...anything else I can do for you?"
No. There's nothing else thank you.
I never thought I'd be the same. I thought my body would never recover, that my heart had long left my chest, and my mind would never function on normal again.
To be continued.
