The following is an excerpt from my Journal, April 1st, 2008:
I’m waiting for mittleschmertz. That’s the word used to describe the pain experienced when a woman feels the follicle rupture and release an egg once a month. It’s not everyone that can feel this, and frankly, I have no idea if I have ever felt it before. But this month is different. I know what side it will happen on and approximately when.
This past week, I’ve been to my OBGYN twice. There I had pictures of my uterus and ovaries taken. One ovary looked like a round piece of Swiss cheese, and the other a bit like a donut. The lab technician at my physical pointed out my right ovary, noting the large “hole” and telling me that this was the follicle that will produce an egg this month. I looked on with fascination, pride and a bit of excitement... this could be it.
I never thought I would be one to get crazy about baby-making; I’ve generally adopted more of a laid back attitude to most life events. But when I got pregnant months ago, I realized that this was the fulfilling of a dream. It all felt natural, almost instinctual.
I’ve been studying health, and it all made sense. I’ve studied nutrition and I took a keen interest in pregnancy. I had the fascination and the determination to understand what was best for my body and be able to do it. I had read all the books, studied the charts, and prayed daily for God’s blessings on my child and my abilities. But I couldn’t do anything to prevent the pain and questioning that followed after learning that I had miscarried.
I read in Lorilee Craker’s book, “When the belly Button Pops, the Baby’s Done,” some awesome words. “Don’t let the fear of what might happen dampen the joy and the love... don’t hold back your love in an effort to protect your own heart.” And I immediately saw the beautiful and scary truth in that. So I loved, and I prayed for God’s protection on my heart and body, all the while trusting in my Father of heavenly lights. I know that every good and perfect gift is from above. (James 1:17)
Grieving is a process that seems never ending. But the sun shone down and I felt God’s blessings again that day at the doctor’s office. Laying there in a cotton skirt held closed by Velcro, my body revealed, I looked up to see my reproductive organs on the big screen. “Everything looks fine; you should expect to ovulate in 2-3 days.” The doctor’s words were music to my ears; as are the words in Ecclesiastes 3, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven...” And this is my season to get back up and try again.