A Letter to the Mom Dreading her Ultrasound

I’ve been where you are. I know how it feels to wonder if there will be a heartbeat this time. I know how it feels to learn that there’s not. To be told that the bleeding should start soon, that it was just bad luck, a fluke. I know how it feels to be told it shouldn’t happen again, only for it to be the same sad ending again and again... And again. You’re still a mother. I know how it feels to finally hear that long awaited heartbeat. The news that things are going well this time. That this might finally be the baby you get to take home but not fully trusting you will. That guarded and cautiously optimistic feeling that always leaves you in limbo. The feeling of the enemy trying to steal your joy and hope and dreams. I’ve been where you are. But I also know that feeling of holding my babies for the first time. Seeing them be born. Hearing their first cries. Smelling their little heads. Feeling their tiny fingers grip onto mine. My true rainbows after a very dark storm, and for them I’d do it all again. Your happily ever after might look a little unconventional or different than your original plan. You might not have that perfect age gap. You might not carry a baby of your own. Maybe your best friend will do it for you. Maybe you’ll adopt. Or maybe you’ll foster. You might even step into that ultrasound room holding your breath waiting to see one baby, with news that you’re carrying four. I don’t know how your story will end, but I do believe that the things you long for were put on your heart for a reason. Lean in to them. You never know what’s waiting for you and some times the things we pray for don’t happen because something far greater is already in the works. He’s got you. I’ve got you. And I’m sending you so much freaking love if you’re in this unfair season of loss and waiting and uncertainty right now. Keep going, mama. You’ll know when you’ve had enough. But until then, just keep going.