Today I had my fourth blood test, which should tell me whether I'm ovulating on my own or not. I know that even though I'm not super hopeful (since it didn't work last time we drilled the ovaries), I will still be super disappointed to find out I'm not. I'm also not looking forward to having to make a decision with the husband about possibly starting a new cycle of treatment.
As much as a new cycle of treatment brings new hope, I only have three more rounds funded of this FSH-injection-treatment. I am thankful I have three, but I also feel like I'm slowly using up all the chances I have at getting pregnant, and I'm scared to have to strike another one out. The fear is so overpowering!
Yet I know we will try and we will come out of it somehow, like how we've survived the last couple years.
Since it has been winter, I've thought about how hope is like the warm spot in the house or on the couch where the sun shines in from the window. The snuggly sun-kissed spot where we want to sit and catch the soft rays instead of being in the chilly corner. (Cats seem to know about it particularly well.)
For me, the warm spot hits the dining area of the house in the morning where I like to sit and read the newspaper with a cup of coffee if I have a late start. (I love it!)
I long to bask in hope but sometimes it seems like it moves away quickly, especially in winter, on the cold and short days.
When hopes are dashed, and when I get bad news, I get that sudden stale, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. For me I think that is what disappointment feels like physically. You know what I mean?
Yet, the sun will be there the next morning- unfailing, and the night will be over.
So I have to remember that and hang on to that truth:
The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
Lamentations 3:22-23 (New Living Translation)