Holding my breath

Little known fact: when I was in high school, I took a weight training class.  It was one of those "I had to take something for P.E. and that was what was available when I could fit it into my schedule, so I'll go and make the best of it" type classes, not an "I want to go watch cute guys lift weights" type thing.  (That is SOOO not the type of girl I am or ever was.)  One thing that was a struggle was to train myself NOT to hold my breath when I was lifting.  I was very inclined to hold my breath (and I understand that's a fairly common instinct.)  Learning to breathe properly while lifting /working muscles took a lot of concentration and effort.

I often catch myself proverbially "holding my breath" since Gideon passed away.  For example, during the week he was alive, I sometimes worried and wondered so much, I felt like I was holding my breath.  Some days, I really miss him a lot and it is actually hard to breathe when my heart hurts so much.  And being pregnant again, I am anxious a lot.  I worry and wonder, way more than I ever used to.

Our big ultrasound is coming up on Monday.  I always "brace myself" for bad news at doctor's visits now.  So far, this baby has been healthy and normal, and this pregnancy has gone fairly smoothly, but every time I have to go to the doctor, I feel a little bit like I'm holding my breath.  When I see the baby on the monitor, and hear her (yes--it looked like a girl the last time, we'll find out for sure on Monday) heartbeat, it makes me feel such relief that I almost cry every time.  As I walk out, I feel like I'm finally breathing after holding my breath for a long time.

Every pregnancy up until this one, I was so excited for the big ultrasound.  Seeing all the details, watching all the measurements, observing my baby move for over a half an hour while they check for 10 fingers and toes and all the body functions is such a delight to me.  Except that when I was pregnant with Gideon, that visit is where we learned that he had a blockage between his kidneys and his bladder.  It started out as a minor thing, and typically a problem that either resolves itself or is resolved with surgery after baby is born, and so the doctors really didn't make a big deal about it.  They gave us info about the problem, and we were scheduled for some follow up visits, because sometimes the problem gets worse (and it did).

All through the pregnancy, but especially this week leading up to our ultrasound, I've wondered how I'll handle it if this baby has problems--especially if they are similar to Gideon's.  Even minor problems can become major, I know that from personal experience.  I don't want to go through it all again, and I hope I don't have to.  I felt strongly that we were not done after Gideon, and I have prayed hard for a willingness to do whatever was asked of me.  I knew the next pregnancy would be hard, I sometimes feel like I am trying not to go crazy with worry.  I want to allow myself to hope, but I don't want to be surprised by bad news, especially not devastating news.  I am trying hard to hope and believe that all will be well, but I keep catching myself expecting the worst, and waiting to hear bad news, and then being overwhelmed with relief when everything is fine.  Everything has looked really healthy at every visit so far, and if it is a girl, the chances of her having the same problems as Gideon is much lower.  My eyes filled up with tears at the last one, when the ultrasound showed kidneys that looked normal and what looked like a little girl.  And yet, as we approach the official ultrasound, I catch myself being agitated all over again.  I am so worried that the doctor will be wrong, that the problem will develop, that this baby will break my heart again.

As I tried to find a way to explain how I feel before every doctor's visit to Scott earlier this week, the closest comparison I could think of was holding my breath when I was lifting, or holding my breath while I am swimming, instead of breathing properly.  I haven't really thought of my weight training class in years, but the comparison has helped me to step back and see it a little bit less emotionally.  There are reasons for breathing properly when lifting--it helps your blood pressure to be more regulated, you have more control, you are much less likely to become light headed and pass out, and breathing deeply and regularly is a good habit and a mental exercise that is very good for you (like in yoga).

When I thought of the comparison, it dawned on me that going through trials and hard times is not too different than lifting weights or swimming hard.  As I have continued to think about it, I have noticed more similarities.  It requires some preparation and strength beforehand.  It's best not done alone, someone you trust should be spotting you or observing just in case.  As you bear more weight, you become stronger, able to help others and also to bear that weight with more ease.  It's really important to keep taking deep breaths and exhale during the right moments so that the bearing of the weight isn't adding more stress to your body than it already will.  I need to learn how to "breathe out" during these types of moments, especially when I know I have a doctor's visit coming up.

I am not actually sure 100% how to do that, so any suggestions would be welcome.  The awesome Disney song "Let it Go" comes to mind, and maybe I need to start singing that at the top of my lungs more.  "Que Sera Sera" is also applicable, and I could sing that more too.  It's a whole lot easier to sing "let it go" than it is to actually let go all your worries, though.  Obviously, praying helps me to feel like I'm not carrying this alone.  I have not asked for a priesthood blessing during this pregnancy, and I probably should--I know there is knowledge and power there.  I could probably go visit the temple more also, and feel the strength and power of God's love there.  I have so much trepidation about what could go wrong, and I don't know that any amount of praying will remove all of it, nor do I want it to.  I was so blindsided when they told me Gideon's condition might be lethal, 2 days before I delivered him.  I look back and sometimes wish I had been more prepared for the bad news.  I also think how good it was that I didn't know how bad it was.  I wouldn't have been able to enjoy so many of the things I did last summer--our vacations, my brother's wedding, they all would have been overshadowed by the knowledge that I was carrying a baby who was in really big trouble.   Sometimes I wish I could let go of all worries and knowledge of all that could go wrong with this baby, and sometimes I am glad to be a little more prepared--I know I CAN handle the loss of a child if that is what I am called to do.  I sure don't want to, though.

I think of the sweet prayers of my children, myself, and my husband: how many times we prayed for Gideon, how dearly they are praying for our current baby, and I just want this baby to be perfectly OK so badly, for them as much as myself.  I wish for the hope that all will be well, without the disappointment that comes if things don't turn out how I want.  I hope for the faith to trust in God's plan for my family no matter what happens.  I think that would truly be "breathing" the right way in this situation.  Proverbs 3:5-6 "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart: and lean not to thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."  I WANT that type of trust and faith.  Sometimes I feel like I have it, but it is not the constant I want it to be.  Especially not when I'm going to the doctor.  Prayers and faith in our behalf would be truly appreciated as we take a closer look at this little baby next Monday, and I will post ultrasound pictures next week.