So that's what it was.....

I finally have a name for this strange pain I've experienced in my abdomen just a few times in the last couple of weeks... Braxton-Hicks contractions!

I first had one maybe a couple weeks ago, but thought it was just some really strong indigestion or acid build up in my stomach. It was sharp pain that radiated all over my abdomen. Sometimes I'd have to stop whatever I was doing just to brace myself until it went away. It only lasted several seconds, and if I changed positions, it would tend to dissipate.

Well, tonight, it was particularly strong, and lasted longer. It was the first time I put two and two together and ran to my pregnancy book to read more. That's when I discovered I've likely been experiencing BH contractions. Again, they are infrequent, there is no telling when they'll come, and I've only had maybe 3 in the last 3 weeks.

I wasn't aware BH contractions could happen this early, but, according to the book, it can happen as early as 20 weeks. I think my first was probably around 23 weeks. (I'm 26 on Monday).

I don't know why I think this is so cool, but this is one of the coolest parts of the pregnancy (for me), so far! I think it's because when I've always dreamed of being pregnant, I've never romanticized or really thought about the 9 months preceding the labor. (Except for getting a positive pregnancy test -- I've always wanted that). But when I've always thought about pregnancy, my mind has always jumped right to the labor and delivery. THAT, to me, is the most exciting part. It's the culmination of everything. It's getting to see what has been inside you for so long. To me, labor and delivery is the crescendo of the miracle.

SO, the fact that my body is "practicing" for the finale is just beyond cool to me!

Thank you, Jesus, for this gift.

20 Minutes Ago

20 minutes ago, this was going to be a very different post.

20 minutes ago, I was going to write what it is like to be pregnant for the first time (minus our early term miscarriage), with a second child. How, when you already have a child and are experiencing pregnancy for the first time, you are "robbed" of some of the pleasures of pregnancy.

You see, with a 2-year-old boy, I don't have time to sit on my couch, rub my belly, and dream what life will be like for our daughter. I don't have the luxury of coming home from work, and because I'm so fatigued, just going to bed. I don't have the pleasure of NOT getting up at 6:30 am on a Saturday because I'm so nauseated. It's no longer just me and my husband. We have a toddler to take care of -- together. (insert right here, mega gratitude for our son).

But, that was 20 minutes ago. Now, I feel silly (and selfish) for even thinking this way. 20 minutes ago, I learned a precious girl whose infertility journey I have followed since before we even got pregnant, lost her twins at 8 weeks. Yesterday, I learned another dear friend lost her child at 8 weeks.

God has catapulted me off my duff and right smack into: thankfulness. And I am. I know at any time up until now, and any time from here on out, He could allow Sienna to be taken from us. He could allow Brae to be taken from us. My husband, my mom, my sister, my everything. In a moment, I could be Job(ette).

And yet, God would still be the same. He'd still be loving, faithful, kind, good, amazing. And I would still be His cherished daughter whom He loves so much; for whom He sacrified His own son. (I can't say that I love anyone enough to sacrifice my son for death).

He would still be FOR ME. He would still know what is best. He would still cradle my life in the palm of His hands.

Yes, infertility has robbed me of a lot. But, in spite of it, God has given me so much more. He's given me a persepctive that, above all else, He is all I need.

He alone sustains me.

24 weeks.

We had our 24 week appointment today. I've gained a total of 8 lbs. A little on the low side, but the dr. didn't seem too concerned. However, even if I gain a pound a week from here on out, I still won't reach that "magic" 25 lb mark.

I just don't have a big appetite. And my stomach is still pretty uneasy, especially in the morning and at night. This morning, I even threw up for the first time since 19 weeks (minus the stomach flu episode). It caught me off guard. I thought I'd gotten past that.

I'm measuring right around 23-24 weeks. My uterus is now well above my belly button mark.
Sienna was kicking away, and beating around 150 bpm.

I have a new symptom: heartburn. I've never had heartburn before. I didn't even recognize it at first. I thought I'd swallowed something that was stuck in my throat. After a few days (yes, it took me that long), I thought, hmm, maybe this is what heartburn feels like? The burning in the chest, throat, etc. Yup, I think so.

I made my appointments for the rest of the term -- about 12 of them! We also start "birthing" class in April.

Tygh and I went out for Valentine's dinner last night and had a blessedly honest conversation. He said he just cannot be in the room with me when I start delivery. He'll be there up until I start pushing, and then he'll excuse himself until Sienna comes out and is "cleaned up." My husband has a very queasy stomach when it comes to this kind of stuff. When Brae was born, he was hovering in the corner most of the time, in a chair, head down. I was the one who cut the cord.

Sure, it's not how I pictured delivery -- I wanted my husband there, cheering me on, cutting the cord, etc. But, that is just not going to happen. And it's okay. Really. I'm honoring his wishes. So, instead, my mom and my sister will be there, each holding a hand, and urging Sienna into this world.

I praise and thank God for this amazing gift of pregnancy and getting a chance to just experience it. I finally feel at a place of peace and rest and settlement. I feel content. I'm looking forward to her being here, and enjoying something new -- a lack of wanting. A lack of wanting to be pregnant. A lack of yearning to move beyond infertility. I haven't experienced that since January 2007. I want that "me" back. I will take with me the post-January 2007 me, especially the closeness and intimacy I have with Christ that I didn't have before. I will take with me new gifts of empathy. A testimony. A surrender. But, I want (and my husband wants) to return to a more carefree lifestyle. One where growing our family does not consume our lives. I'm excited to move to the next season of life.

Brae update: Our son is a phenom. I kid you not. That boy has some SKILLS when it comes to basketball. We had a friend over the other night and he was in shock at how a 2-year-old can jump and shoot a basket (a high one) with one hand. He said we need to get a video and put it on youtube.

Potty training is another story. The boy is just.not.interested. He doesn't care if he craps his pants or has a wet diaper. I know boys take longer, so I'm not stressing. Maybe when he sees his "baby Sienna" (as he calls her) get her diaper changed, he'll realize diapers are for babies.

His Spanish is really picking up. The "experts" say that if a child learns 2 languages before age 2.5, their primary language lags behind a little bit at first, and then they catch up. Then, if you try to introduce a second language after the child starts reading, all hope is lost that they will ever truly be bilingual as second nature.

It's hard to say whether Brae's English is lagging behind. I know most boys are slower to speak and form sentences than girls. But, according to where the books say Brae is supposed to be at right now, he's surpassing it. He can recognize just about every letter in the alphabet by name(in English). He speaks (short) sentences. And he understands if you give him direction in English or Spanish.

I love that boy.

Hospitalized.

On Thursday evening, about 10 p.m., an upset stomach awoke me. I puked. I thought, maybe I shouldn't have eaten that bowl of ice cream. A half an hour later, I didn't feel better. I felt worse. I puked again. I thought, hmm, maybe this is pregnancy related? A half an hour later, I puked again, and out of, umm, other orifices, if you get my drift. At the same time. I thought, okay, I'm really sick.
Rinse and repeat for the next 7 hours. I couldn't even keep water down. I felt at death's doorstep. Sienna, for herself, was kicking up a storm.
Finally, at 5 am (my stubbornness held out for 7 hours), I called the on-call doctor. She said if I couldn't keep Sprite down, to go into the hospital for some IV fluid replacement.
I couldn't keep Sprite down.
My husband woke at 6:30 and I filled him in. He'd been clued in that something was wrong by all of the toilet flushings. I told him I felt I should go to the hospital, but that I wanted to get Brae up and off to school first.
Finally, at 8 am, we got to the hospital. I could barely walk, I was so weak. I was concerned about Sienna, and praying. They admitted me in the maternity ward (apparently, when you're sick and pregnant, you go to the maternity ward). I was hooked up to IV fluids, anti-nausea, and had blood work. My potassium levels were low, so then they started potassium supplements.
The doctor opined I had the 24-hour stomach bug (which I knew had been going around at Brae's school, and yet Brae wasn't sick (yet)). She said when you are pregnant, you are just even more vulnerable. And, with how sensitive my stomach has been during this pregnancy and hormones, I probably was an especially susceptible victim.
They hooked up the fetal heart monitor, and I got to hear Sienna beating away --at about 150 bpm. A blessed sound. Thank you, Lord.
The doctor said as long as I remained hydrated, Sienna should be fine. At this gestational age (22 weeks), they are very resiliant.
I stayed in the hospital for 8 hours, on bedrest, hooked up to fluids and anti-nausea. I only threw up once during that time -- after trying to eat some peaches. They asked if I wanted to stay the night. I said no. I wanted to go home.
A half an hour after I left the hospital, I puked again, after trying to eat some jell-o and toast. Clearly, the anti-nausea medicine, the same one I'd been on earlier in my pregnancy and had successfully kept me from throwing up, was not working. I was THAT sick.
I remained on death's doorstep until, truly, about 10 p.m. last night -- a full 24 hours after it started. And it left me almost as quickly as it had come.
Today, I'm still recovering. Can't eat a whole lot and very tired. But so thankful that the worse has passed.
And, I'm a little grateful. I feel like Sienna and I went to war together. And I feel more bonded to her.

22 weeks. And a toddler.

We are 22 weeks tomorrow. According to my pregnancy book, this is the last week of my 5th month. And I think I'm finally out of the woods with the nausea and vomiting. I still have a pretty sensitive stomach, especially at night, so my appetite is pretty sparse. I eat a lot of cereal and Eggos. And, I've become a vegetarian during this pregnancy.

I feel Sienna move every day -- usually when I'm lying down or after I've eaten. Although I still don't "love" the movements, I'm soooo very grateful for them. They are a reminder that she is here. And for that, I greatly appreciate them.

I'm slowly starting to turn Brae's nursery into Sienna's nursery. What was yellow and blue decor will now be yellow and pink decor. I've started buying some girly clothes -- and -- um -- I LOVE that!

Brae is starting to say Sienna's name, and say "sister", although I'm confident he still has no idea what is going on, or what is about to rock his world in about 4.5 months.

Can I just say that I love God's timing? I am SO looking forward to having a summertime maternity leave! Brae will still be in school, and I just cannot wait for warm, balmy nights sitting out on our patio, going on vacations, and, well, just SUN! With Brae being born on Halloween, I was cooped up for most of my maternity leave, often snowed in. So I am relishing the beauty of God's timing with this one.

Brae has learned his primary colors, and is speaking in short sentences. Very short. Like, "It's dark outside." and "Mommy, it's nigh-night time." and "Daddy, sit down."

He remains obsessed with basketball. He went to his first "live" basketball game the other night, and was completely mesmerized. He's also very mechanical. Loves puzzles and blocks and Legos. He's also gotten very good at the harmonica -- playing it naked, with his diaper on, and his boots on the wrong feet.

And, he loves to push my buttons. At the moment, he's supposed to have quiet time in his room before I turn off his night light. And, yet, I can hear him taking every. single. book. off. his. shelf. and throwing them on the floor. There must be over a hundred.

But, he remains the happiest boy you will ever meet. He is extremely outgoing and friendly and never ceases to put a smile on people's faces.

If it's true that they say 90% of who we are today is a product of our environment, then I'm grateful for the opportunity God has given us to be his parents. And I cannot wait for Sienna to meet him.

Sienna (100th post!)

Some of you know the story of Sienna. Some of you may not.

A year ago, we were on vacation in San Diego. I went on a hike by myself. I got to the top of a tall mountain (well, a large hill actually). I pulled off my headphones. I leaned my head back to the sky. It was a cloudy day. I closed my eyes. I asked, out loud, "God, will we EVER get pregnant and carry a child to term and get to experience labor and delivery?"

Then, the clouds parted and the sun came out. A soft breeze just brushed across my face and I heard, almost audibly, "YES."

I smiled.

At that moment, I didn't believe God was saying we'd get pregnant on our own, or we should do any more fertility treatments. Instead, I felt God leading us to pursue embryo adoption. We had done some initial research, and this was my confirmation to keep pursuing it.

I got back to our room and told my husband. That was December 2009.

The following spring, there was a few day period when I was bombarded with the name "Sienna". It kind of came out of nowhere. And I just felt a strong impression that we were going to have a girl one day, and I was to call her "Sienna".

One night, I told the women in my Bible study group that. One of the girls asked if I knew the meaning of the name. I said I didn't. She suggested I look it up. I agreed.

The following week, the same girl asked me if I had looked up the name. I said I had forgotten. She said she had looked it up. It means, "promise of God."

I got chills.

Yesterday was our 20-week ultrasound. We asked the technician to find out the gender, write it on a card, and seal it in an envelope.

Later that night, with all of our family either present or on Skype or on cell phones, I opened that envelope.

We are having a girl. And we shall call her Sienna.

The progression of a baby bump.

So, here it is: My 1-pound-baby bump.
Seems so silly I've been in maternity pants since 9 weeks.

The first pic is at 4 weeks -- the day we found out. The second is at 6.5 weeks. The third is at 9 weeks. The fourth is at 12.5 weeks. The fourth is today, at 15 weeks, 2 days.

On a side note, I've felt MUCH better today. And my appetite has returned. I've been craving poached eggs on toast all day. In fact, I've eaten a total of 5 eggs and 3 pieces of toast today. Love to see what my cholesterol is right now.

But the real question is, what does it mean that I'm craving eggs?

15th week ultrasound!

We had our 15 week ultrasound today. I'm not sure that most doctors even DO a 15 week ultrasound, but nonetheless, we had one. The baby looks great -- good measurements, good heartbeat. We were "hoping" the doctor would be able to tell the gender, but our blessing was covering his/her genitalia. Modest soul. The doctor also remarked at its position. Its head was bowed down, and it was curled up. The doctor said, "Well, I don't see this often. But it looks like your baby is praying!"
Now, I'm not sure if our doctor is a Christian or not, but it was a blessing indeed to see that, and have the doctor make that remark.
We also got to see the baby move a little bit, and breathe in and out. But mostly, it looked like it was sleeping.
We got the results back from the genetic screening. The Downs test came back 1:500 chance. For an embryo created from a 31-year-old woman (the donor, and coincidentally, me), the odds are more like 1:460. So these odds are excellent. Thank you, Jesus! The other genetic tests all came back with stellar odds.
The one small bump, pun intended, is that I've only gained 1 pound. 1 pound in 15 weeks. The vomiting and nausea has not helped in this department. The average is between 3-5 pounds. So I have some catching up to do. Coincidentally, or not, this evening I've actually felt kind of normal. I don't take too much stock in that, however, because every time I've started to feel good, I take 2 steps back the next day.
No more ultrasounds or appointments until the big 20 week appointment, set for January 18.
I have to say. I'm hoping for a girl.
I hope to post some baby bump pictures in the next couple days. If I have gained 1 pound, it is all in my stomach.

Viability scan.

SO, we had the all-important viability scan yesterday .... and it went great! Baby's heartbeat is 175 (wow!), and the dr. said he/she is VERY active. We saw it moving its arm all around, trying to put its foot in its mouth, and even kicking me (although I couldn't feel it). Two arms, two legs, and the Downs scan looked excellent. (Yes, we ended up getting it -- even though I still didn't want to, Tygh insisted it was for his peace of mind, so I honored that). I guess they want to see something less than 3 mm in the neck fold, and the measurement the dr chose was something like 1.9, so very good.

They also ran some blood tests, and those will come back in the next week or so.

SO, all in all, looks like we have an acrobat on our hands, and I must say, with that heartbeat, I think it may be a girl....

And, today, I turn 31 -- the same age our female donor was when this embryo was created -- 9 years ago!

Can you even wrap your head around that? Wow.

Shots and Downs.

I got the much-anticipated news this morning that I am done done done (!) with the shots! (Well, at least until next week when my levels get checked again). I've been off estrogen for about a week, and this morning, my bum thanked me for not poking it today.

This means (I'm told), that my placenta is now producing the hormones on its own in sufficient quantities that I don't need supplementation. Can I get an Amen! to that?

We are 12 weeks, 1 day today. By some calculators, that is the end of the first trimester. However, I also keep getting told that 13 weeks is now the "magic marker."

I'm still very nauseous and vomiting at various times of the day. Even with the meds. I try really hard not to take the meds unless I feel absolutely brutal, which means I'm taking one about every other day. I think I may be able to handle the nausea if I didn't have a 2-year-old to run after. But that, on top of work, just makes it very difficult to get through the day feeling like this. Again, the burden that comes with the blessing, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Friday we go in for our "first trimester screening". This is where they can do a bunch of measurements, blood work, etc. to gauge the "viability" of the fetus. They can also look for Downs Syndrome.

If you recall from my last post, I didn't want to do this screening. I still don't want to do this screening. Three reasons primarily: 1) the results won't change our plans -- we intend to continue with the pregnancy; 2) it can result in false positives; and 3) how much of a leg up will I really have knowing if the child has Downs? This child will still need to be loved, fed, changed, bathed, etc. The physical needs (as I understand it) of a Downs infant are the same for a non-Downs infant. I just want the ultrasound to say hi to the gummy bear again.

But my husband disagrees. He thinks it would be important to know and prepare, if necessary.

We've agreed to disagree and separately pray about it. For me, I still feel convicted we should not do the test. However, I also want to submit to my husband's decision. (You ever heard the great quote -- if wives knew what it REALLY meant to "submit to their husbands" -- they would never not do it? Because, submitting to their husbands means that wives get to duck while God knocks the husbands to their rear).

So, it will probably be a game-time decision.

My first (ever!) ob appointment

Today, I walked into the familiar as a very unfamiliar person. I stepped foot into my ob/gyn's office for the first time as a pregnant person. My husband, sitting next to me, remarked what I'd always cringed at, "Wow. There are a lot of pregnant women here." No wonder I was depressed every time I had to get a pap smear, or worse, a blood test to confirm that I was, in fact, not pregnant.

Strangely, I didn't feel that different. I still looked at the big bellies and thought, hmmm... maybe one day. I didn't think, oh, I'm one of them now.

The doctor visit itself was great. I love our ob. First things first, he did an ultrasound. Much less fancy than the fertility clinic I'd been going to. The baby popped up and did a big kick. The doctor remarked, "Wow, that was a big kick. I bet you it's a boy." (I was just so thankful to see a baby still in there). And then we saw the heartbeat. We didn't get to hear it or measure it, but the dr. thought it was around 150-160. I'm still measuring a day behind -- so 10 weeks, 6 days. I'm 11 weeks, 0 days today.

We told the doctor all about NEDC and our embryo adoption. He was just so cool about it all. After working with him for just about 3 years now, he was just so happy to see us pregnant. He even remarked, "We've done just about everything with you, haven't we?" as he scanned through my chart. Tygh and I just groaned and nodded. What a long and weary road it has been to get to this harvest ground.

Funny tidbit: I can no longer button my pants. I'm relegated completely to stretchy pants. People have noticed. I no longer count being fashionable as one of my traits. So, as you can imagine, I turned around when they weighed me. I didn't want to see that dreaded number. And then, the nurse said, "Well, I won't tell you what your number is, but I'll tell you it's the exact same number as it was when you were here last (like 6 months ago)."

Hmm... not really sure how to take that one...

We have another ultrasound after Thanksgiving, and then a 15 week ultrasound, followed by the big 20 week ultrasound. The next ultrasound is where they can measure a bunch of things on the baby to see if it may have downs syndrome. Tygh and I have talked briefly about it, and we don't think we're going to ask for that measurement. First, it won't matter what they say -- it doesn't change our plans about having this baby. And second, our donors had the same test performed on their twins. For their daughter, the doctors thought she had downs syndrome because of the measurement. So, the entire pregnancy, they were preparing for a downs baby. She came out perfectly healthy. I don't want to go through that agony if the only way to really know is when the baby comes out. (Please don't read this to think I think having a downs baby would be agony --- it's preparing and planning for something when it turns out you didn't have to --- that's the agony).

I'm a grateful mess. Grateful because of the obvious. A mess for other reasons. I just escaped a bladder infection (took a bunch of meds before it got bad); have been on anti-nausea meds, which makes me "infrequently void;" eating a ton of fiber to counteract that issue; had a minor freak out because I learned I'm not supposed to eat lunchmeat (3 turkey sandwiches too late); I walk funny because of all the bruising on my bum; and I frequently have to go to my car at work just to get some rest. All this while being so grateful for this God-given gift, and yet trying to function in life.

I have been able to wean off the estrogen pills, but am still two shots a day with the progesterone. I have another blood test tomorrow to see if my body is starting to produce it on its own (oh, please, Lord!). I catalogue the awful thoughts that we'll be on PIO shots until Christmas, or, gulp, for the whole 9 months. (You see how scary my mind is?)

But the biggest thing is that I've learned this pregnancy doesn't satisfy. It's not fulfilling. For as long and as much as I've wanted this -- it is NOTHING compared to what Christ has done to fill voids in my life. It was actually surprising and caught me a little off guard to realize this, and then when I did, I can't believe I ever thought otherwise. I can't believe how many times I tried to trump God by putting pregnancy on a pedestal.

Please don't misunderstand - I want this pregnancy, and I already love this baby inside of me. But nothing, no baby, no pregnancy, nothing, can ever complete me the way my relationship and salvation with God does. It has taken this blessing for me to realize that the true gift is in just Christ Himself. That's it.

I'm going to be a "professional" blogger!

God has asked, and I've said yes.

I just got a call from NEDC and they have asked me (along with a couple others) to be a blogger on their website, chronicling my journey through this experience.

Mind you, they have asked me, at different times, and by different people, on 4 different occassions now. I'd never really responded before, thinking, do I really want to be that vulnerable to THAT many people?

However, when I got the phone call today, I just felt God saying, "I want you to do this." I was convicted. It was confirmation that He wanted me to be vulnerable, and to trust what He is up to.

I believe He's called us to adopt, and this is one of our platform issues. NEDC said this blog site is sponsored through a grant, and the most popular portion of the site are the expectant moms. If I can in any way be a voice in the fog to those who are thinking about doing embryo adoption, it is an extreme honor and privilege, and I will do it, gladly.

And, bonus, I get paid! (It's not a lot, and I certainly would do it for free, but it makes me a "professional" blogger!)

A boy turns 2 and an embryo becomes a fetus

We celebrated our son's 2nd birthday this weekend with a Halloween costume party. Brae was Charlie Brown. Saturday, a bunch of toddlers and youngsters gathered at a warehouse full of inflatable jumping toys and had a ball! We were so blessed in that my sister and sister-in-law (and nephew!) each drove 3 hours to join the festivities, only to turn right around to drive back home (thank you girls!). And Brae was surrounded by lots of family and friends who love him.

Then Sunday, his actual birthday, we spent the day lounging around and I put together all of his toys (why are they so difficult to assemble?). It is such a blessing to have him in our lives. He's now counting to ten (in Spanish and English), and he can sing his ABC's with you. We've started working on identifying letters. He is OBSESSED with "b-ball", aka basketball. Seriously, you've never seen a boy more taken with an orange ball and a basket. This obsession is now about 2 months old, and I don't see it waning.

He is now sleeping in his big boy bed (until he falls out of it, which so far, has just happened once). And he is still using a binky (I know, bad mommy). I figure he'll get rid of it one day -- I mean, he's not going to be in kindergarten with a binky.... is he? It hasn't slowed down his chatter, and it seems to provide him some comfort, so what the heck. And yes, he may end up sucking his thumb, and if he does, he'll be just like his mommy. (if it sounds like I'm trying to justify using the binky when I know I shouldn't, you are exactly right).

And then shifting to Brae's sibling. Today was our 9 week ultrasound. This is when the embryo officially becomes a fetus. The ultrasound was the best so far (thank you Jesus!). The dr. said the baby was "giganormous," even though he/she is measuring 8 weeks, 6 days (plus or minus 1 day), which is just right. We got to hear the heartbeat and it was 174 (another miracle). We even got to see him/her kick a leg! All in all, a miracle in the making. And none of it has anything to do with me.

I'm generally in line with the camp of ladies who have the all-day sickness. (Please don't think I'm complaining -- I see each and every symptom as a reminder of a miracle, for which I am deeply grateful). I've thrown up once, and dry heave most every morning. Steadily, as the day wears on, I get a little less nauseous, as long as I'm eating small meals. Then, in the evening, the nausea creeps up again. It feels like really bad car sickness. That's my strongest symptom right now. The fatigue doesn't bother me as much as my stomach does. I get up about 5 times each night to go to the bathroom, and am not sleeping well because of the nausea. My boob.ies are sore and have this highway of blueish veins circulating around under the skin (sorry if TMI, but this is just fascinating to me). I've had to start unbuttoning some of my jeans, mostly because of the bloating. Next up is a visit with my "regular" Ob/gyn next Thursday.

Thank you so much to each of you who has steadily walked this journey with me. Your love, support, and prayers mean more than you can possibly know.

xoxo

Britney

A visit with the birthmother.

Yesterday was a very special day. We got to see Brae's birthmom for the first time since his birth nearly 2 years ago. Up until this time, she has not been ready to see him. Brae also got to see his biological grandmother and grandfather. But perhaps the most special treat was getting to meet his half sister for the first time, who is just 3 years older than him.

We met at a park in our BM's hometown. Tygh and Brae and I were down playing with some ducks when we saw her come down. I must say, I was relieved. I was a little afraid she may not show up.

We embraced and I told her how good it was to see her. She admitted to having a little bit of a panic attack in the car, and had changed her mind a few times as to whether or not she would come. I'm so grateful she did.

Brae was uncharacteristically shy at first, that is until his half-sister just bounded up to him and they started playing "tag." It was adorable. They are the spitting image of one another (as you can tell). And same personality, same giggle, even same facial expressions. It was priceless.

We made small talk, but mostly just watched the newly united siblings play. It was a surreal moment.

It was a brief visit -- only 45 minutes -- unlike the hours long visits with Brae's birthfather's side of the family. But I think it was exactly what our BM needed. She knew she had selected the meeting location -- a park -- that has absolutely no kid-friendly objects. No swings. No playground. Nothing. A bare, but beautiful, adult park. So the second the conversation waned just a little, I could tell she was ready to go.

As we walked back to our car, I told her I hoped we could do this every year. She looked at me and smiled, with tears in her eyes. I told her I wanted Brae to know who she was, and to know who his half-sister was.

She nodded in agreement. She wanted that too.

We embraced again. This time, it was long, and it was hard. She wouldn't let go. She hugged me with everything in her and we both said, "I love you."

I told her to not be a stranger.

And as we departed, Brae's half-sister waved and said, "Bye, brother."

I am blessed.

Two years ago tomorrow.

Two years ago tomorrow, I was in a strange place. We had just done IVF, and it had failed. We had been chosen by a birthmom to parent the child she carried, and she was due any day now. Yet, we hadn't heard anything from her for a while, and we didn't know if she was going to change her mind.

So, there I sat, just completely surrendered to whatever God was doing. I had a range of emotions going through me. I sat at my computer, and here are excerpts from what I wrote:

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"Today is October 23, 2008. For the last year and half, my amazing husband and I have been trying to conceive a child. It's been a long and weary road. There are so many things I want to share about this journey, so many incredible lows and unbelievable highs, and the glimpses of God's character I've witnessed, and yet, the journey is not over. About a month ago, we were chosen by a birthmom to adopt her unborn child. As of today, we are still waiting for that call telling us she is in labor and we can go meet our child. When this journey was over and I had a baby in my arms, then I wanted to give my testimony. I needed to know it would have a happy ending. And yet, as I sit here, I feel compelled to share my testimony now, before I know the outcome (will she change her mind?). And that scares me.

I believe God wants me to write this testimony now, no matter what the outcome is, because He will be the same. His character will be the same. It is so easy to be joyful and have faith when God is answering your prayers with a "yes," and pouring out blessings. It is much harder to be joyful when His face is hidden. And yet, He is the same through it all.

As a girl, you take life for granted and just presume God will allow you to get pregnant. Isn't that what He says in the Bible? Be fruitful and multiply. Aren't those with their quivers full of arrows supposed to be blessed? (Come to find out children are A gift from God; they are not THE gift).

During this very lonely time of miscarrying and then having IVF fail, I came across this great quote: "It is a glorious thing to know our Father in Heaven makes no mistake in directing or permitting that which crosses the path of our life. It is the glory of God to conceal a matter. It is our glory to trust Him, no matter what."

While on the adoption wait list, we had 9 failed leads. I felt lost. I felt abandoned. I felt like God had given up on me. I was being punished. I knew the only comfort I could find would be in God's Word, and yet I was so angry with Him. He'd taken away my hopes, my dreams, and I was forgotten. My prayers went unheard, unanswered, lost in the gap between here and heaven. Every door I knocked on was shut in my face. I was running into one brick wall after the other. And God just let me. Didn't God know I was going to give Him the glory if He gave me a baby? And didn't He want to be glorified?

I know now that God is not a Magic 8 ball. The heart of prayer is communication, and not just receiving what we ask.

I wish I could say there was one single turning point that just caused me to trust God. There was not. It was a progression. And it wasn't sequential. I'd have great strides in my faith, and then I would fall back into hopelessness and refuse to talk to God. At some point, though, I knew I was not walking by sight. I was walking by faith alone. I simply had to trust and believe my pain was not in vain. I was living out a purpose.

God's favor and His person are not synonymous. If my trust is in manifestations of God's blessing and favor on me rather than in God Himself, I will crumble and fail when He calls me to walk a distance of my journey entirely by faith, and not by sight.

I knew I was not waiting on man, I was waiting on God. I learned that when we sow in tears with the seed (God's Word), we will reap a harvest of joy. Don't give up. The harvest will come. That's just God's way.

My circumstances have not changed much in these last 18 months. I didn't have a baby then, and I don't today. But in my suffering, the circumstances of my heart are changed through a keen sense of God's presence and a lively perception of His activity.

And then I came across another quote: "God knows when something glorious in the future necessitates something difficult in the present. Because God knows the glory that is in store, He will risk being misunderstood. Yes, God wants us to have fulfilling, glorious, joyful lives. But He also wants us to have crowns to cast. Character to build. Rewards to receive. Testimonies to tell. Compassion to give. In the midst of those difficult times, God makes BOLD promises."

As I sit here and write this, on October 23, 2008, I don't know the end to this testimony. Will this be a testimony about answered prayer? Will this be a testimony about trusting God even in the midst of hopelessness? I believe it's both, but mostly, I believe it's a testimony about perserverence. It's a testimony about allowing God to prune you so you can be more fruitful. It's about knowing He is God despite my fluctuating circumstances. It's about knowing that my God is FOR me, not against me. He wants only the very best for me. He has a perfect plan for me. He's the God of perfect timing. I need to allow Him to give me that perfect gift, at the perfect time."

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Six days after I wrote that, we got a call from our agency saying our birthmom was going to be induced in 2 days, and that tomorrow, we should start driving down to her hometown.

Eight days after I wrote that, our son was born. We were there, and I cut the cord.

Nine days after I wrote that, we brought our son home.

Six months after I wrote that, our baby boy was declared by the courts to be legally ours.

Now, nearly two years to the day that I wrote that, God has placed a sibling for our son in my womb through the miracle of embryo adoption.

What a journey.

What is really the best part.

The best part of this whole journey was not the positive pregnancy test. It was not seeing the doubling of the numbers. It was not seeing the heartbeat. It was not hearing the heartbeat. It was not even seeing the stronger heartbeat after the slower heartbeat.

The best part of this journey is not waiting for a baby bump, waiting for the baby shower, waiting to deliver, waiting to hold this child.

The best part of this journey is none of those.

The best part of this journey is the intimacy with my God that I've experienced. The best part of any wilderness season is the closeness and dependence you feel on your Savior. The best part of this trial is falling on my face each day (sometimes multiple times), thanking God in the midst of my circumstances, and relying on Him each day to provide for me.

That is, by far, the very best part of my life.

Thank you, Thank you.

Thank you for all of your prayers and thoughts. They mean so much to me!

The awesomely wonderful news is that our little diamond ring (that's what it look like on the screen) has a heart rate now of 121 bpm! And has grown from 2.8mm to 6.8mm in just 4 days!

Thank you, Jesus!

Next freak out will be at the 9 week appointment.... Just kidding! I'm trying really really hard to stress less, trust more! Thanks for bearing with me, ladies!

xoxo

Heartbeat.

I hesitated posting anything about this, but in the spirit of transparency and seeking support and prayer on this journey, I'm going to share.

As you know, we had our ultrasound on Monday. I was "six weeks, zero days," as the doctor kept reminding me. The heartbeat was 90 bpm. She said that was fine, considering I was, again, "six weeks, zero days."

However, I had my phone consult today with NEDC and my dr. there was slightly concerned that the heart rate was on the slower side. He suggested I get an ultrasound in the next few days. Being me, that has to be tomorrow. He'd like to see a heartbeat around/over 100 by tomorrow.

I'm writing to ask for your prayers. Please pray that this little being is growing strong and healthy and that we see a strong heartbeat tomorrow.

I'm clinging to a verse sent to me today by a dear friend:

"blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished!" Luke 1:45

I know that this baby never was, nor will ever be mine. It is God's gift to me, but this child is ultimately His. I know and trust that He is in control and He was not surprised that we've encountered this bump. I continue to cling to the belief that we will deliver this child.

That's all I have and all I can do.

God spoke.

We had our 6 week ultrasound today.... and saw (and heard!) one heartbeat!

It was funny because the doctor at my outside monitoring facility walked in and said, "You are 6 weeks, zero days today. I do not expect to see a hearbeat. WE (our facility) does not schedule ultrasounds until at least 7.5 weeks. "

I didn't know how to respond to this, so I just clenched my husband's hand tighter, kept my arm over my face, and just prayed.

Sure enough, there was that blessed flicker. A hearbeat. I squeezed my husband's hand even tighter.

Then she said, "You know, you normally can't hear a heartbeat, but you're so thin, we might be able to." And sure enough, "chug... chug... chug...chug". 90 beats per minute, which she said was good for again, repeating very sternly to me "Just 6 weeks, Zero days."

Now to the title of this post. God is amazing (duh). But I'd been praying earnestly and trying to seek His voice. I was starting to get confused between His voice, and my own voice of fear. Every once in a while, I'd get some clarity, but then my Fear Voice would just trample all over it.

But in the midst of the chaos, God has been telling me for a while that He took one baby home, but that we'd see a heartbeat today.

And that's just what He did.

Just some honesty.

I'm told we're pregnant. I believe we're pregnant. Yet, some days, I don't "feel" pregnant. And that worries me. I start getting all anxious and in a tizzy, and it's just a mess.

In those moments, I fall flat on my face, confess it, and just pray that God continues to grow this baby(ies) inside of me.

I confess I compare my beta number with others (I'm sorry --I crinkle my nose to even say that out loud). I try not to get wrapped up in symptoms (or lack thereof), but I do.

And it's in these times when I'm flat on my face, just crying out, that God just comforts me. He tells me to rely on Him, not symptoms. To trust Him, not a number. That it's in these times when I don't "feel" preggo, that I need to remind myself of what I believe He's told us from the beginning -- this will be a sustained pregnancy that will result in a healthy delivery. But it's between now and this point where I'm going to have to trust Him, repeatedly.

Someone who struggled with infertility once told me that she thought the worrying stopped with a positive pregnancy tset. Then she thought it would stop with an ultrasound. Then she thought it would stop with a heartbeat. Then she thought it would stop with the second trimester. Then she thought it would stop when she got to the hospital to deliver. Then she thought it would stop when that baby was in her arms. And now, as a mom to a living, breathing child, she realized you never stop worrying for your child.

To be a mom means that you agree to forever have your heart live outside of your body.

I agree with that.

Lord -- I hold this baby (or babies) with lose and open hands. They were never mine to begin with, and even when (not if!) I deliver it/them, I will only continue to be the steward of this gift on earth.