Back in October 2020 I told you we’re not out of the woods yet, but at least we were in them. It was my way of saying I know people don’t often announce pregnancy this early because the risk of it not lasting is high. Well…We’re back in the woods!! We are 7 weeks pregnant today and so grateful to be seeing those 2 pink lines. Here’s what it’s like in this particular forest: It’s familiar but still very unique, we have had 2 pink lines before but they vanished so that’s the part of the woods we recognize. There are many things about this cycle that are unlike our previous trips to the woods. Most notable is that this embryo is the highest grade possible, which is AA, and was genetically tested to be “normal.” This is the only time I will allow the word normal to be used as a compliment towards our offspring. We statistically have a 60% chance of having a viable pregnancy. The pregnancy hormone is not rising as rapidly as the textbook example suggests it should but it is rising. I do not suspect that a child of Joshua’s will be rushed into anything, they will want to take their time and that’s just what our embryo is doing. Even the heartbeat has been difficult to detect, which is not entirely uncommon this early.

Weekly therapy is a godsend, here’s some things I’ve been working on with my magical therapist. My fear is that I can’t do this, that I’m somehow not equipped to carry a baby to full term. I know this isn’t true. Doctors have told me I can certainly be pregnant and give birth, and underneath all the fear I know I can do it. My therapist asked me to put this belief in a vessel and I closed my eyes searching my imagination for where that might be. The word vessel brings up biblical pottery for some reason but I dismissed that as too fragile for my precious glowing belief in myself. I found a root cellar in my mind, safely underground, without any spiders, and immediately I knew I could line the walls of that basement with Mason jars of my own 2021 vintage of “I was made for this ” & “I have everything I need.” If you’ve seen Fantastic Mr Fox visualize Franklin Bean’s cider room guarded by the rat. Bright and endless rows of cider line his cellar. Every time I begin to freak out I pop open a jar of my belief in myself and sit down to relax and enjoy.

I called my IVF Dr. to ask if I should worry about X, Y & Z and without skipping a breath he said “oh sure, you can always worry.” There are pages of research that suggest we might not make it out of the woods with a baby. Am I eating, sleeping, and taking my meds? Yes, I am. I’m also meditating and receiving acupuncture and not reading those pages of research. Consequently doing all I can to ensure this is the 1st of many adventures with our kid. So if I feel like worrying I can, but it won’t help. I’ve been imagining that I toss my worry into the compost, like an eggshell or a banana peel (Ya’ll, bananas are so gross how can you eat them!), and I take it out to the bin each night. Pour myself something delicious from my root cellar of hope and try to let go. I hope you will light your candles and sit in vigil with us for this time of unknowing. It may very well be bad news, we are fully aware of that. If our little one is not detected on the ultrasound this week we will find ourselves in a very dark woods and we do not want to be alone out there. I don’t know how to pray anymore, but if you do we hope you will do so on our behalf. Circumstances like ours have a way of shredding your faith into barely recognizable pieces of the document they once were. We believe in love, and we are thankful for your ability to hope with us and readiness to grieve with us if necessary, that is very much the picture of love.