I took the test.  Two pink lines appeared.  One was faint, but the instructions made it clear that even a faint line was a line and the test was positive.  I took a picture to commemorate the moment, and later looked back at the picture to really make sure both lines were there.  That was Tuesday.

At 3:00 this morning, I was up nursing Ava and I felt the bleeding start.  I laid Ava down, hoping I was wrong.  But I wasn’t wrong.

It was less than four days of knowing for sure.  But it was long enough for my heart to become attached.  It was long enough for a mindset shift and for endless thoughts of what the next eight months would bring.  It was long enough to add in another little one to my prayer times.  It was long enough to think about what life would be like with six.  It was long enough for my heart to break when I realized it wouldn’t be, after all.

Somehow, though, I wasn’t entirely surprised.  Maybe it’s just because it has happened twice before and I have a hard time expecting the best when I know there’s a very real possibility of the worst.  Maybe it’s because of how much this past week reminded me of how I felt the last time when it was going to end in the worst…how it seemed like my body was desperately trying to fix something that was going horribly wrong.  Or, maybe, God was gently preparing me so that I wouldn’t be completely blindsided.  I don’t know that half-expecting it makes it any easier, though.

…

When I woke up this morning, Caedmon was all ready for the day, and had gotten Elijah bathed and dressed, too.  They both hugged me, which was kind of unusual.  They had no idea; we hadn’t told them – or anyone – about the baby that was on the way.  It reminded me that God can make grace abound in the hardest moments.

…

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding;  In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths. — Proverbs 3:5-6