past the ceiling

Well, If I am honest, I have spent the majority of the last few days in bed. Kind of just "one of those days." Well, x 2. Let me rewind to Friday...

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It started off good. Thanks to my amazing friend C, who got me a gift certificate at place called "Stork Snapshots" I was able to go in and have a 3D/4D ultrasound done. It was so awesome to see my sweet little girl, so completely alive. The footage and still images are ones I will forever cherish, no matter what happens in the end. But, though it was undeniably awesome, it was also unexpectedly hard.
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Part of the hardness was just the mental/emotional side of it. Watching April move and make faces, and seeing her so alive, left me wondering if I would ever see her that way, outside of my belly - in real life, not just on a screen. I remember during her first ultrasound, before anything was ever deemed "wrong," a million thoughts about the future flooded me. I am sure that is natural. You think, "Oh I think she has my lips" ... or ... "I wonder if she will have my color hair," and so on. When you get that glimpse inside, you wonder so much about the future. That part of it made the whole experience the other day rather bitter-sweet. I loved seeing her, I absolutely loved it, but I don't want that to be the last time I see her kicking or waving, or smiling (yes, she smiled, and yes, it was amazing!)

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Another hard part was the medical side of it. While the sonographer was doing her thing, she mentioned to us several times that there was not much movement, etc.. To us, April was moving all around, but to her it was limited, and since she does ultrasounds day in and day out, I will take her word on the fact that it was a noticeable difference that her quote normal scans. We (D and I; D = April's father, supporter, friend) explained to her April's conditions and for the most part the comments stopped. But before we left, she did recommend that we contact our Dr. just to make sure everything was okay. She seemed pretty convinced things were not (even after being informed about her conditions). I was upset, but was determined not to let her assumptions ruin such a great experience.

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Later that evening, we did have the Dr. paged and I did talk with him. He wasn't as alarmed as the woman before him was, and we set up an appointment for yesterday morning. Honestly, I really wasn't that alarmed either. Well, not until late that night, but once the nerves hit, that was it. I literally did not sleep a minute. I tossed and turned, watched old "Office" episodes, and infomercials for "Malibu Pilates" and the "Tobi Iron Steamer." I am sure you get the picture... Restless. Completely.
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I finally gave in about 7:00 a.m. and just got up and ready for the appointment, and a few hours later we met with the Dr. and it was confirmed; April's heart rate is low. Too low. She has had dips in her rate the last few weeks, but it has just been dips, and then back to a safe range. yesterday her heart rate was just a tad over 100, consistently, and once that fact was determined, my mood went from a bit crabby and a lot tired, to just completely re-broken.
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D and I waited and waited in that Office, while our Dr. spoke with another Dr. and then called, I believe yet another. In the end, he came back in and spoke with us about inducing. Now that isn't a surprise, it has actually been a frequent topic with our Dr. and is something he has always pushed, but this time his reasons were more substantiated than the whole "This will be easier" ... "She most likely won't live anyways" routine.

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The Dr.'s believe that April is under stress in the womb right now, and that coupled with her low heart rate just isn't good. He started talking to us about setting up a time to induce, as in, the next few days...

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Pause.

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The next few days? ... Oh, a million thoughts rushed over me, spanning from, "I am not ready," to "I don't want to," to "It is too early, I don't think she is strong enough yet," back to "I am not ready," and so on.

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The Dr.'s bottom line speech, went a little something like... If I induce now I may have a better chance of meeting her alive... He believes at this rate, with her heart, she will die soon inutero if we wait and do nothing. He also doesn't seem to think I have much time to make the decision. His belief being that with the combination of her stress and already low heart rate, if it gets any lower, she will likely not make it through the birth process alive, because it will just be too much for her tiny body.

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Deep breath.

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How do you listen to that? How do you weigh those kinds of options? How do you know what is best? How do you make that decision? I am pretty sure that I would rather decide anything else...

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I fear regret in every corner. Like, if we induce in an attempt to meet her alive, and she dies in the process, I would regret that we induced. If we don't induce and she passes inside me, I will regret that we didn't induce, and so the cycle goes. The only option that doesn't take me through that hideous cycle is the hope for a miracle.
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Sigh.

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I got home yesterday and just layed down in bed, feeling April move inside of me, poking her, and feeling her poke or push or gesture back at me. I just sobbed. Some days I am okay. Actually most days I am. Of course, okay doesn't mean I am smiling ear to ear or laughing uncontrollably, but for the most part, I am alright. I have had an on and off peace about things, and I also try to just fill my time up with other things, to distract myself from thinking through the realities that are my life right now. But currently, walking the line between the practical and miracle mentalities are so very hard on my heart...

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I never want to limit what God can do, but I don't want to be unrealistic. I don't want to prepare myself for April beating the odds, and then have her not beat them at all. I also don't want this time to be so full of grief and questions and sadness, especially if this really is it.

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I fell asleep last night praying. Well, I think it was a combination of crying and praying myself to sleep. There are decisions to be made in the very immediate future, and everything is just surreal, like my days are just fogs, in so many ways. But I do believe what God says; “You will seek me and find me when you seek with all your heart." I know that truth, in my mind, but I don’t believe I have ever sought with my entire heart before now. It hasn't been necessary. Now it is.

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This morning I got out of bed and went to Church. I will admit here that I really, really did not want to go. The irony is that today's whole service was about thanksgiving and praising God in the storms. Ironic, huh? ... Nah, just God.

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The service was a much needed reminder, both in the spoken word, as well as the stirrings in my heart during the worship. I don't know how many of you are like me, but I sing praise and worship songs all the time. Actually, the last several weeks, it has been quite intentional that I am constantly playing Christian music, so that when I am angry, or laying down or cleaning, or grieving, the words on my lips are the words I do believe, despite the circumstances surrounding me. But I guess when you have mastered the lyrics to Jeremy Camp and Mercy Me and Chris Tomlin, and are just singing the words, you do it without much thought behind it, at least most of the time.

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This morning a simple song got me. "God is so good." - As that line that came up on the big screen this morning, and I stood there looking up at it, I got choked up and my lips stopped moving for a few moments. Inside my head, as everyone around me was singing, I thought, "Really, is He?" ... "Is he so good?" ... "If He was so good, why this?" ... "So good? Come on. Do all these people even believe that?" ... Yeah, I have thoughts like that, and much worse. But for the second verse I forced myself to sing words that were just plainly not my heart (in that moment). Not "forced" as in I "had" to, or that I don't believe the words, but more so, like, right now I am unsure how to sing words such as "God is so good," or "He loves me so" or others similar. I know, head and heart, that God does love me and is so good, but wow is it hard to sing and say those words when I am simultaneously broken and grieving in the way I am.

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I imagine I will be "forcibly" singing songs like I did this morning, for awhile. Maybe it is good though... Maybe it is okay to feel this way and to speak or sing these kinds of words in these times, however "forced." Maybe they can serve more so as a reminder of what I do know and believe in better days, or desire to know, some day. I know God is so good, even if in this moment I do not feel it.

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Anyways, I don't have some great conclusion to all of these ramblings. But, I would ask for continued prayer. I am not sure what is going to happen with my sweet little girl. I don't know what medically is the appropriate route. I don't hear anything from God yet, either way. I just don't know. But either decisions will be made, nature's course will kick in, or God will intervene. In the meantime, my heart and mind are heavy as I weigh options that are harder than I could have ever prepared for.
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He isn't rich, but he's not hard up.

Everyone says he's always had good luck

but he doesn't put his faith in god's of chance,

says he don't believe in coincidence.

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I say, what's up your sleeve? and I check his arm.

He says it ain't magic tricks, it ain't a lucky charm.

He points to the holes in his worn out jeans,

and I see through to calluses on both his knees. And I see what he means...

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He says, it's more than emotion or reciting a prayer.

No eloquence needed. Volume won't get you there.

You can cry on an altar or stir up a feeling,

but if you don't believe it can happen, it won't get past the ceiling...

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