Here we go again.

In 11 days we are going in for FET #2 (frozen embryo transfer). We have 9 embryos on ice from my stimulation cycle, so the good news is that we just have to have them transferred back to me. No shots, and way less medication.

I am so scared, and so nervous. We have to fork out $3,900 for this one, and that does not count medication. My medication runs about $120 per week, and I take that for 1 week prior to the procedure, and then up until I am 8-10 weeks pregnant. So lots & lots of money. I am scared to spend all this money again, and for the same thing to happen again.

But we're going to do this. It's all we have ever dreamed of. It's different this time. This time I have so much uncertainty because of our previous miscarriage. Last time I was so hopeful God would let it work out, but it didn't. This time I have more trust that either way God's plan will prevail. Whether that be we welcome a baby the fall of next year, or we are back at square one. Really, I'm just praying He gives me the faith to trust Him.

Wishing.

Today I would have been 12 weeks pregnant. This is when most people announce their pregnancy. At this point, statistically, you have a very unlikely chance of losing the baby. But I'm not. We lost our sweet little first child around 6 and a half weeks. We had been trying for so long.

After thousands of dollars, lots of doctor appointments, countless trips to our doctor in Cincinnati, a billion prayers, and tears often- we were finally pregnant. The short weeks when I was pregnant were some of my very favorite weeks of my life. We dreamed of what he/she would look like, we made plans for our spare bedroom, we talked about names, and we even bought some baby items.

Then it all went south. It happened so fast. One day I was pregnant- then over a course of a week with complications, I was not. The most joy filled weeks of my life quickly took a turn to the most painful, heartbreaking weeks of my life. I was so mad. I was mad at my body. I was mad at God. I was mad at every woman who could conceive naturally and stay pregnant. I was envious of watching other women live in the shoes that I so desperately wanted to be in.

Before we got pregnant, God and I had this direct line going on. I was so desperately praying this procedure would get us pregnant. And I was praying that He would help me through it if it did not. What I never prayed for was helping me if we lost the baby. I was praying it would or that I would be okay if it didn't. I didn't expect it to happen, then for us to lose the baby. So I had nothing to fall back on. I felt betrayed by God. I felt like God had dangled my dreams right in front of my face- then instantly ripped it from my heart.

Luckily, God shows up. Even when we don't want Him to. I didn't want His help, I didn't want His comfort. I didn't want anything. But He did. He wrapped His arms around me, even when I fought my way out. He reminded me He is still good. He reminded me that there is a reason, even when I didn't want a reason.

I used to wonder why God put this burning desire in mine and Dion's hearts to be parents. I sometimes wish He would take it away, because it's not happening the way it does for most people. But I know He has a plan. A plan that includes the patter of little feet in our house, the sleepless nights, the worry. It may not happen when or how we'd like it. But I know it will. I cling to this verse and have been for 2 years now- 

In the same way I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born,” says the Lord.  “If I cause you the pain, I will not stop you from giving birth to your new nation,” says your God.

I know God has a plan. I always say to Dion- our future kids most be some real changers for the Kingdom of God, or the devil wouldn't be trying so hard to keep it from happening.