My appointment with the hematologist is this week. I was definitely more anxious about it back when the appointment was made two months ago. Maybe having to wait this long has been a good thing in disguise. Now I just feel resigned to whatever I find out from the doctor. Whatever it is, I hope it's fixable. :)
In other news, I don't think I mentioned the results of my endometrial biopsy. The pathology report never showed up in my online record (not sure why) but no one ever called me about it so I assume it was normal. However, the culture showed Group B strep. That might explain why I still have tail-end brown bleeding (TEBB)...the antibiotic I took (before the biospy) does not cover GBS. I haven't had any mid-cycle spotting since finishing that antibiotic, so maybe it did some good? I am excited that we know what bacteria we're facing. There's less guessing with the next antibiotic choice. :) I hear these low grade uterine infections can be tough to eliminate, so I don't know how long it will take, but I'm ready to kiss this TEBB goodbye. My chart will look so pretty without the TEBB...one more step toward a normal-looking cycle. :)
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Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
In the elevator
One day at work I met a very sweet, elderly woman. She needed help finding her way out of the building, so I accompanied her. We chatted along the way. She was telling me about her family and mentioned the number of children she had. I don't remember if it was 8 or 11, but it was some lovely large number like that. :) I commented that it would be nice to have a big family. Her eyes caught mine, and she asked how many children I have. Rather cheerfully I responded, "None yet." I said nothing else about it, and the conversation continued in another direction.
Then we stepped into the elevator. No one else was around. As soon as the doors began to close, she asked, "Can I pray for you?" Surprised at the question, I replied, "Um, yes. Thank you," assuming she meant she would keep me in her prayers in the future after we parted ways. I guess that's what a typical Catholic would assume, right? After all, I hadn't given her any specific intention to pray for.
Well, she grabbed the back of my hand and held it as she placed it on my stomach. Then she bowed her head and began to pray out loud—still with her hand on my hand on my stomach. Good thing her eyes were closed so she didn't see my puzzled expression.
A light bulb turns on in my head: Oh!! She meant to say, "Can I pray OVER you?" I get it! I've had people, Catholic and Protestant, pray over me before, but usually it's a little more clear that that is what I am agreeing to and usually there is a specific intention...but, no matter. Prayer is prayer, and I'm grateful for any kind, even if it startles me a bit. :)
I was still very confused why our hands were on my stomach. Holding hands, I can understand. But the belly of a perfect stranger?
I wish I would have written down her exact words. It was a short prayer because it was a short elevator ride. She started out by praising and thanking God. (I was thinking, "This lady is so sweet...") She continued, and the only part I distinctly remember her saying was, "Lord, please open her womb."
The entire prayer was for me to become pregnant. Wow.
How did she know? I did not tell her we were TTC. I did not say we had TTC for a year or so without success. The simple response of "none yet" was something I have said throughout our marriage to anyone who asked if I had children—whether we were TTC or trying to avoid pregnancy. And I know I was cheerful and smiley when I said it...if I had said it in a more depressed tone, I could see how one might guess we were having difficulty TTC. Yet, somehow she knew.
Amazingly I managed to maintain my composure and not cry. If I had been post-peak, there would have been tears. It was so moving. I was still in a small state of shock when she was finished, so I simply thanked her, and we chatted about something else while we left the elevator. After a short walk she recognized the way to the exit, so she turned to leave, but not before giving me a big hug.
That little encounter made my day. Actually it made my week. I hadn't prayed for any consolation, but God decided to send me one anyway. He takes care of us infertiles. :)
Then we stepped into the elevator. No one else was around. As soon as the doors began to close, she asked, "Can I pray for you?" Surprised at the question, I replied, "Um, yes. Thank you," assuming she meant she would keep me in her prayers in the future after we parted ways. I guess that's what a typical Catholic would assume, right? After all, I hadn't given her any specific intention to pray for.
Well, she grabbed the back of my hand and held it as she placed it on my stomach. Then she bowed her head and began to pray out loud—still with her hand on my hand on my stomach. Good thing her eyes were closed so she didn't see my puzzled expression.
A light bulb turns on in my head: Oh!! She meant to say, "Can I pray OVER you?" I get it! I've had people, Catholic and Protestant, pray over me before, but usually it's a little more clear that that is what I am agreeing to and usually there is a specific intention...but, no matter. Prayer is prayer, and I'm grateful for any kind, even if it startles me a bit. :)
I was still very confused why our hands were on my stomach. Holding hands, I can understand. But the belly of a perfect stranger?
I wish I would have written down her exact words. It was a short prayer because it was a short elevator ride. She started out by praising and thanking God. (I was thinking, "This lady is so sweet...") She continued, and the only part I distinctly remember her saying was, "Lord, please open her womb."
The entire prayer was for me to become pregnant. Wow.
How did she know? I did not tell her we were TTC. I did not say we had TTC for a year or so without success. The simple response of "none yet" was something I have said throughout our marriage to anyone who asked if I had children—whether we were TTC or trying to avoid pregnancy. And I know I was cheerful and smiley when I said it...if I had said it in a more depressed tone, I could see how one might guess we were having difficulty TTC. Yet, somehow she knew.
Amazingly I managed to maintain my composure and not cry. If I had been post-peak, there would have been tears. It was so moving. I was still in a small state of shock when she was finished, so I simply thanked her, and we chatted about something else while we left the elevator. After a short walk she recognized the way to the exit, so she turned to leave, but not before giving me a big hug.
That little encounter made my day. Actually it made my week. I hadn't prayed for any consolation, but God decided to send me one anyway. He takes care of us infertiles. :)
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