Be Hopeful

Hormones.

They're something, aren't they? You girls know what I'm talking about. But, honestly, for the first time in my life, I'm really thankful for these hormones. 

Back in 2014, I started having some issues that I hadn't encountered in the four years I had been on my Mirena, even with my ectopic pregnancy. Cramps like I hadn't experienced since labor, on a consistent basis, and it just kept getting worse and more uncomfortable. One night, I was even awoken from a dead sleep by excruciating pain and to discover that I had begun to bleed. Heavily. So the appointment was made with my OB, and within a week I found out that my IUD was just beginning to barely travel. Give it another week, at most, and I've got my IUD removed and my body begins to start regulating proper hormones within a couple months. 

Roughly seven months later, I have the ONLY pregnancy scare I will experience between the years of 2012 and 2017, and only a few weeks within beginning a relationship with my abuser. After that one scare, I didn't really have any energy to pay attention to whether my period came on time or not. From what I can recall, my period was pretty consistent throughout that whole relationship, thank goodness. But after the breakup, I started thinking. I had been in that relationship for over 18 months. Had only had sex with him during those 18 months, despite what he would claim. No birth control, no protection during sex, not really any tracking of my ovulation, but when I looked back at my app, there was consistent intercourse right around when "predicted ovulation" should have taken place, based on my cycle. 

So, two years and three months after my last visit with my OB, I discover that my fallopian tubes were blocked (which can be common with previous ectopic pregnancies) and the OB put my chances at naturally conceiving at less than 5%. Yay me. But at least it wasn't impossible, so I hung on to that. 

Six months after that, our miracle hit. 

I remember taking this test. I remember the second line showing up before the three minutes was up, and having to remind myself to breath. It was a new journey, one I did not expect to be surprised by ever again in my life. 

There was so much hope in those few weeks before her heartbeat could not be found. And my husband, for months afterwards, whenever I struggled and grieved for our little girl, would always remind me that there is hope. That yes, we lost her, but there was hope.