I'm moving on

Last weekend, I was a hot mess. There are no other words to describe it. Friday night was nice and relaxing. Then, on Saturday, the tears started around lunch time and didn't stop for a few days. My hormones were equaling out (Those pesky things are so dangerous) and I had the dread of Monday's appointment. The day we found out we miscarried, they scheduled another appointment a week later to be sure of the loss. The next week, another ultrasound and appointment (of which, I won't lie, a glimmer of hope still existed) confirmed that not only had I miscarried, but a D & C was necessary since my body didn't seem to be doing its job. I had a checkup two weeks after the D & C to talk and make a game plan for the future. All weekend, all I could think was that I was about to go to a third appointment to confirm that our baby had died. At this point, the knowledge of the loss had gone on for nearly a month and I was ready to move on. After sobbing, nearly nonstop for 48 hours (I somehow pulled it together for church), it was appointment time. My hcg levels had returned to 0, and like that, a peace washed over me.No more ultrasounds, appointments,  or dread.  It was over. As much as I wanted to hold on to a hope that the ultrasound would miraculously find a heartbeat or the doctor would give me a sentence of bed rest, he didn't. We could finally wake up from our nightmare and begin to dream again.

Due to the D & C, our doctor has asked us to wait several months before trying again, to reduce the risk of another miscarriage. While, ready (I couldn't say "happy") to oblige, we knew we needed a new goal to focus on to get us through until (prayerfully) we have another healthy baby ready to join our crazy family. So, our craziness has settled in our favorite (well, Lee's favorite. Some days, it is debatable if it's my favorite) activity: running.

(When we ran the Knoxville half-marathon, we were separated by corrals by our projected finish time. Lee was a 1:45 projection and mine was a 2:15 projection. Our feelings towards this sport could best be defined by the shirts in our corrals. Lee's was full of shirts saying things like "I love running" and multiple marathon shirts. My corral was full of "I hate running" and tutus. It was a beautiful indication of our level of competition per corral.)

We have chosen to run the Myrtle Beach half-marathon on Valentine's weekend. I find although half-marathons are harder on my body and take a lot more time to train, it is much easier on my mind than 5k's. I HATE 5k races. Mostly, because I am NOT fast and even though running is a sport where you're not competing against anyone but yourself, I basically spend 30 minutes degrading myself about my speed and how if I hadn't cut last week's run 10 minutes short, I could have knocked minutes off of my time (Totally not true.) (Except for cutting my run short. That part is normally always true). Melissa is going to run it too, making it her first half. I learned from her the value of goal setting, in the form of physical activity as a reprieve from grief. I have learned that one of the best ways to fulfill a goal is to be as public as possible with it. So, here it is. February 15, here we come. (We're trying to talk several other people to go with us to the race. You still have PLENTY of time to train and my goodness, rooms at the beach are CHEAP!)

The day we found out we had lost the baby, I was in the waiting room waiting to talk to the doctor and I saw one of my favorite scriptures on the wall, directly behind Lee's head: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

Today, I am clinging to Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Do it, Lord. fill me to overflowing.