Vulnerability

“I define vulnerability as uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure. With that definition in mind, let’s think about love. Waking up every day and loving someone who may or may not love us back, whose safety we can’t ensure, who may stay in our lives or may leave without a moment’s notice, who may be loyal to the day they die or betray us tomorrow — that’s vulnerability.” - Brene Brown

Do you know Brene Brown? If you don't, stop reading this instant and go watch this video instead.  I am in a scary, vulnerable place right now. I want to open my heart up to these little beings inside me that could become babies, I want to love them, even though they may not stay, and yet I can't seem to let myself.  I am anxious and scared and stressed. I know there is no way to protect myself from the pain if I miscarry again. As Brene Brown says, I can't beat vulnerability to the punch by not getting excited. But. I don't want to miscarry again. I don't want o to bleed. I don't want to feel that sadness, that emptiness, that physical sensation. I am terrified. Here I am though- I chose to pursue these fertility treatments knowing there are no guarantees, knowing that choosing this path was to choose the possibility of another loss. I would like to experience more joy in my current pregnancy. It seems I am in need of release, something to loosen this knot in my chest, my belly. I feel like I am curling in a ball to protect myself, but maybe what I really need is to get a little more vulnerable, let go, cry. All I can really do though is try to be here, try to hang with all these scary emotions each step of the way.

Just got my second beta results back. 689.1 All is well.

Lucky Number 7?

I am pregnant. It's four in the morning, rain pouring down, and my third pee test shows a dark second line. It's just me in the dark with a speck of baby, maybe two? growing inside me. Holy Shit. Yesterday was my first positive test, a faint line, and then one of those digital tests that says clearly "Pregnant." Pounding heart, jittery grin. I left it on the kitchen counter so I could keep looking at it, but then the elation began to fade. Really, am I really pregnant? And worse, does it mean anything? This is my seventh pregnancy, even though I have just one little guy sleeping soundly in his bed. Is it ridiculous to think that I can have another one? Another soft downy head asleep on my chest? Screaming at two am, making funny grunts and coos nursing, learning to smile and laugh and walk and talk. I have been reminded that science is behind me- these embryos inside me are genetically tested, they are chromosomally normal, even though most of the embryos we made through our IVF process were not. It is possible, that this will happen. I hear that in Judaism, seven is sacred, and signifies completion. Maybe this seventh pregnancy is the one that will complete our family. I hope. I can hope.