a high pain tolerance.

I'm fine.  And, I'm not complaining.
I know that the hard road to recovery is going to be way harder than these past few months of anticipating.  Trust me, I know that.

But sometimes, it's the little things that get me...
When the nurse misses my vein putting in an IV and spends a few minutes poking around trying to force it in.
When a blood tech tapes on a cotton ball without applying adequate pressure and ten minutes later my jacket is soaked through with blood.
When they have to draw blood from veins already sore and bruised from previous pokes- ouch.
Tummy aches that are bad enough to scare me, but not bad enough to think I need to rush to the ER (like my doctors tell me I should).
When it takes two nurses, a doctor and an ultrasound to find the heartbeat of my baby.  (Even when I know everything is probably fine, that 20 minute wait seems FOREVER.)
When, just once, the sonographer takes a sweet picture of my baby boy and writes "Hi Mom and Dad", instead of "anterior placenta".
When people ask, "When is your baby due?" And, I say "They will take him around the beginning of June, hopefully."  Instead of July 19th.  JULY 19th seems a world away.
When people say, "27 weeks!  Your baby can survive.  Aren't you excited?!" And I picture the NICU isolette with tiny 2.5 lb babies wrapped in cords and tubes and wires and skin and bones... and I think- No!! Not so excited about a 27 week baby...
When I hear my two year old say, "Where's mommy?  Doctors?"
When I enter field trips or guinea pig shows or horseback riding lessons or soccer games or Anna's first YW in Excellence into my calendar and I know I won't be here to share the day.
When I'm up in the night and I cuddle up next to Todd, knowing how desperately I'm going to miss him beside me.

There are moments along my journey that I can't help the tears that run down my cheeks.  Feelings of fear, worry, anger, "I just don't WANT to do this" are close and suffocating if I give them too much time on the stage of my mind.

Yes, it has been hard being on bed rest the past 4 months.  Yes, it is hard to get poked and prodded.  Yes, there are so many things I'd rather be doing than spending my days at doctor's appointments or in the hospital.

I know what it is like to have a healthy pregnancy where you complain about being hungry and tired and feeling a baby up in your ribs.  I know what it is like to have ultrasounds where they just ooh and ahh over the cute baby giving you a thumbs up.

I saw a mother in the waiting room just yesterday with a perfect, 9 day old baby.  When my baby is 9 days old, neither him nor I will be well enough to sit in a waiting room surrounded by that perfect newborn glow.  I know what that is like, and I miss it.  I mourn for what this pregnancy could have been and yet I am grateful.

Doctors always tell me that I have a "high pain tolerance."  That makes me roll my eyes.  No, I don't scream and cry and cuss when things don't go my way.  I suppose I do "tolerate pain" fairly well.  But, a high pain tolerance is NOT physical.  It is mental.  It is knowing that soon, this pain will end.  It is trusting that those working on you are doing their best, that they need focus to finish their task.  (It isn't their fault that they have to stick me- again.)  Usually, the worse things are, the quieter I get.  I do handle the big things fairly well, but sometimes, it's the little things that get me.  Sometimes, I wish there was no pain to tolerate.  You know?  And, my hard part hasn't even started yet... sigh.

No matter how hard  life seems to get, there is ALWAYS so much to be grateful for.  I'm grateful for the kind doctors and nurses and receptionists and sonographers and blood techs who treat me each day.  People are good, aren't they?  Don't you love getting to know new people?  I'm grateful for a kind and supportive family who cares for me, my family and my home.  I'm grateful that I have a baby to worry about.  I'm grateful for a strong, healthy body that is going to pull through this ordeal just fine.  I'm grateful for friends and neighbors who show that they care in so many different ways.  I'm grateful for incredible medical technology-- I'm not the first, I'm not the worst, I am so blessed to be the recipient of great learning.

I'm grateful for a strong foundation of faith- I know that I am known and that all these things shall be for my good and shall give me experience.  I'm grateful to know that my journey is just like yours-- it is hard for me, but there are worse hards.  In the end, whatever happens, things are going to be OK.  And, I know that.

So, what's a girl to do?  I'm going to brush off my bruised veins, put on my big girl panties and make a few more jokes to the sonographer.  (Because really, is it fair that I can endure many, painful, vaginal ultrasounds when physical intimacy with my husband is forbidden?)  I'm going to enjoy these last few days at home with my kids and I'm going to pray for strength and hope and angels to be with me and my family.  I can do this.  And, even if it gets hard, I can try my best.  That's what life is all about, isn't it.
One day at a time, one moment at a time, one IV at a time.

This is a mountain that I'm climbing... and it is worth it.  I hear there is a breathtaking view at the top!!  (Perhaps breathtaking isn't the best adjective to use... ha!)