I have nothing good to write. Nothing positive.
I feel really bad since so many people have hope for Sunday and are praying for a miracle, but right now I have no hope. I don’t even have the faith of a mustard seed right now.
It brings me to tears and hurts my heart.
I don’t feel this way because of some Mommy intuition that has let me know that Sunday’s heart has stopped— I have this feeling because before going to another doctor for a second opinion three weeks ago, I was sure with all my heart that I was going to walk into that appointment and they were going to tell me she was getting better. That there was an improvement. A miracle starting.
But that’s not what happened.
Actually, the complete opposite. In fact, she was worse. Not only was there fluid at the back of her head and neck, but now it was inside her entire torso as well. I was devastated. Disappointed. Broken.
There were other things he saw, but wouldn’t investigate with the ultrasound since he felt the biggest problem was the hydrops. Not why her leg was pinched. Or what her heart looked like. And so on.
Even though I believe in Jesus, and know that God does perform miracles. It’s still hard. I know where my trust and hope lie, but sometimes it isn’t always so easy to walk in it. It’s there in my brain, but it’s not in my heart.
When I share this with Chris, he tells me it’s alright, that he has enough hope for the both of us; And that it’s understandable that I would feel this way on some days and that’s why he’s believing for the both of us.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 Two are better than one… For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, for he has no one to help him up.
So even though I want so badly to go to my heartbeat appointment tomorrow and the perinatal doctor on Thursday to get an update, I’m scared. Scared what bad news I’m going to hear.
And even though it’s my daughter who needs her Mommy to fight once again for a miracle, it’s me who also needs one to find my hope again.