My Heart's Arias: Happy Tears

Crying. For three and a half years I have been crying. At the shock of my first loss. The devastation of my second. The crushing hopelessness of my third. The depressing never-ending months when I forced myself to wait to try again. The bitter sorrow of my fourth loss. The year following it, in which I tried to distract myself in any way possible-but often lost the battle to sudden and intense outbursts. I cried as my confidence was snatched away as we had our fifth loss, when we had felt SO sure we had found our cure. The pregnancy after that was somewhat unexpected and so we thought it a MUST be our miracle. That hope fell flat with our sixth loss. Our hearts were ripped out and shredded right in front of us, leaving us wondering what do we do with what remains. What could we possibly do? And so I cried.

For another year I kept my collective sorrow and grief tucked away, just slightly behind my eyes, ready to burst out and make a scene in public at the worst possible moments. So many times in this journey I have been brought to tears. The injections I was too afraid to administer at home. Every time I thought, "I'm not cut out for this." I cried on the way to every appointment with every specialist, and usually on the way home too. At the bills that came and costs of treatments that didn't work. At every baby shower invitation. In my car- trying to get the guts to walk up the stairs to my first grief counseling session. Waiting in agony after every blood draw to see how my baby was growing. Every due date that passed with empty arms. Every time my son asks for a baby brother to play astronauts with. I've begged, I've been angry, I've felt slowly crushed to death by depression, and suffocated with anxiety. And I've cried. And cried and cried and cried.

Today, once again, I am crying. But for the first time in so long, I am feeling the tears of joy run down my face. What a welcome difference, what sweet relief. Tears of joy.

Kevin's final post-surgical results are in. The DNA he is carrying is normal. Normal. The most beautiful word I've ever heard. I know my tears will continue to fall in abundance. But I pray and I hope with more than I am, that they will continue to be tears of joy. Because I just can't give up.

I don't know how to thank God enough. This surgery very easily could have changed nothing. Honestly even the fertility clinic wasn't even sure what to make of all this. We have been so blessed.

I feel heard. I feel loved. All I have to do is look at the differences in these three results to see God's hand. It is a miracle.