Draft from when I hit the bottom of the pit, and my own answers

Dead

Dead inside and yet wishing it was actually true. Because it isn't. The truth is I'm alive. I wouldn't really call it living though. I'm existing in a world made up of pain, agony, exhaustion, confusion, and simply existing through it because nothing has killed me yet. Not the times of complete numbness to the world around me, not the extreme emotions that hit like a storm and threaten to take my last breath. They never do, though I wish they would. Seems anything would be better than this. Not too many people would understand my plight, though some may understand parts. I was ok-ish. For a person with depression, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Myofascial Pain Disorder, PMDD, back issues, complete lack of immune system and so many other health problems I was ok. For a while. I accepted that God has taken all 8 of our children to be with Him. I accepted that I would always live in pain. I accepted and even got to the point where I don't even want to raise children in this world. The world is a scary place right now. Satan has created division everywhere, including our own churches, so why would I want to bring a child into this mess? But more reasonably speaking, my body is too broken. I thought I'd come to peace with His Will. Then earlier this year I got sick and my faith took a hit. I wondered how God could possibly allow more to fall on my plate. I still fully believe everything and stand by what I know to be true, but it felt as if for a while the knowledge wasn't good enough. I wanted to feel God's love. I wanted to feel something good, something other than sickness and pain. It seems to me now that I should have been grateful for the semblance of peace in my life I had. How little did I know. I wanted to feel God's love and His presence and He laughed at my stupid human errors. The one thing I didn't want, the one thing I didn't think I could possibly handle was His answer to my questioning pleas. Like the psalmists I begged for God to save me, I wanted an end or an answer. But not this.  Anything but this. I started getting new symptoms and being even more tired. I never even thought it could be, because I believed the specialist from Toronto when he told me my fertility was too low for this to happen naturally. It wasn't very likely. But oh the foolishness of man. To prove my sister's joking wrong I took a test. And immediately went into shock. I went in full on shock, and when that wore off? I panicked. Hyperventilating, sobbing, uncontrollable panic. I slept for several days. I couldn't stay awake. I couldn't think. I couldn't function. I thought that God must have a sick sense of humor, I thought how could He do this? And now, 2 weeks later I'm sicker than before, in more pain than I thought possible (because I can't even take my pain meds now), and frustrated with all the people who keep trying to convince me this is good. That this time is the one. Well guess what folks, my body hasn't gotten better. I still have a clotting disorder, I still have no reason to believe that this poor child will have a chance at life.  My body is a failure and no matter how healthy the baby is, I can hemorrhage and cause it to die at any moment. Especially when you consider the fact that, like with Denver, I have a subchorionic hematoma. Hematomas and clotting disorders don't mix well. History says I will fail this child. History says my body can't do it. And I just can't deal with any of this. I'm not strong enough. Not physically, or emotionally. Most of the time I live in a state of miserable existence. I have pain, extreme pregnancy symptoms, and I sleep. Because I can't manage anything else. It's not living. It's existing, because I have no choice. And I just get angry at the people who try tell me otherwise. I can't even pray right now because my heart shatters in pieces every time I try. And while my head keeps telling me that God is good, my heart just doesn't feel it. So where does that leave me?

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Weeks later I can say - It didn't end there, it didn't stay that way. As in most of life, nothing lasts forever. While I am still horribly sick, have had several complications and health problems, Baby H is still kicking away in there like a soccer player. I've had several scares, hospital visits and ultrasounds and I'm not even sure how I got here, but God gave me peace. I still don't know if I'll get to keep this little one, I still don't know what lies ahead, but I'm ok mentally. I've found my stability in God once again. He never fails us. He never leaves us. Even though I was angry and ranted and questioned, He didn't give up on me. So, despite the horrible gall bladder issues, the digestive system problems, the horrible hyperemesis gravidarum, by the grace of God I can say "it is well with my soul.

A picture from the 12 week check up