On Monday, I went to my 12 week appointment. It was the first time I was able to hear my baby's heartbeat. I'd seen it flickering on the ultrasound monitor, but Monday was the first time I heard that blessed noise. In truth, the fear of miscarriage has always been something I struggled with, but with this pregnancy, I truly believe everything will be okay. With the amount of Divine Providence I've seen at work, I have faith that He has every intention of seeing this child in my arms.
I tremble at the thought sometimes, because I can't help but feel I'm not worthy of such a gift. But again, gifts are not given because one deserves them. Gifts are given because the giver (in this case, THE Giver) wills that they be given. So I am trying my best to accept every aspect of this gift (nausea and back-pain included).
However, there is always that moment as the doctor presses the doppler to my tummy that all the universe seems to hold its breath with me. I try so hard to block out the buzz of florescent lights, the thunder of my bated heart, and the frigid gel that causes a shock of goosebumps to scream along my arms and neck. I try to block out those sensations because I vainly want to hear the whir of life within me. As she presses the doppler further into my abdomen, fear inevitably tries to smother my anticipatory joy.
There will be no heartbeat. God realized His mistake and took this one to Heaven, too.
Shut up, fear. Shut up.
She's pressing further because she can't hear anything. There is nothing to hear. You'll have to tell everyone what a terrible mistake you made in sharing the news. You've failed again.
Shut up, fear! SHUT UP!
She's moving the doppler side to side. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. You --
*Heartbeat - glorious heartbeat*
And the fear flees as fear always does in the face of Truth.
My abdomen pulsed as I tried not to cry out my emotion. My doctor kindly pretended not to notice, as I'm sure she does every time a new mother reclaims her breath.
That 15 seconds was the first of many, many more. There will always be fear. Vince is 5 years old, and not a day goes by where I don't struggle against the fear that I'm not doing enough, educating him enough, BEING enough for him. I have no doubt that will extend forever and always until - together - we all enjoy Heaven.
Myla is the only one I do not fear for as I know she has beaten us there.
And that's okay. As a parent, it's part of the deal. :)