“It’s getting harder to believe everything will be ok at the end of all this. So many tears have been shed, so much blood lost and so many prayers said. What could the next 4-5 months possibly hold?”
The 16th and 17th each saw another large, middle-of-the-night round of blood loss. Relapse. An end to the drought we’d prayed would last forever. I wasn’t surprised, but I was hurt.
The good days felt cruel. We could see right through them. Behind their transparent bliss lurked the bad days. We knew we weren’t out of the woods, but starting blood loss again was harder than starting it in the first place. The more often I lost blood, the more it became our “normal”. The more it became our normal, the more our pregnancy became abnormal.
I slept on towels, afraid of ruining our sheets. I slept in fits, afraid of ruining our child.
Why couldn’t the blood loss just stop? And what on earth was God’s plan in this?
In the stats:
Gestational Age: 17 weeks, 2 days
Days of blood: 11
Days of bedrest: 12
Doctor’s Appointments: 5