This morning I wake up feeling fine. I'm five weeks, two days pregnant, so if this is anything like my previous pregnancies with my girls, I should start to feel nauseous any day now. This morning, as I shuffle into the kitchen bleary-eyed but otherwise well, the only thing I feel is a slight lurch in my stomach when I go to make my usual cup of decaf latte. I stand for a moment and survey my physical state. After a moment the feeling disappears, and I start to feel panicky.
Of course, I know that morning sickness doesn't necessarily equate to a healthy pregnancy, but for me it's been the hallmark. This is actually my fifth pregnancy. I've had two miscarriages. The first time was before Julia (my oldest). The second time was after Elise (my youngest). My doctor declared, after a slew of tests, that the miscarriages were unrelated, and that there's a very low risk that I'll have another miscarriage. She actually wrote me a handwritten letter stating this fact. I can't remember the exact wording though. Was it a "very low risk," or "slight risk?" I can't remember and all of a sudden, I'm sifting through stacks of papers searching for that letter. I think it will make me feel better to see it in writing—to see the official Beth Israel Medical Center seal that's printed on top, to see my Doctor's well-educated analysis written out, to see physical reassurance that I won't be left devastated again. But I never find the letter, and all day I'm left with a feeling of self-imposed dread hanging over me.
To be honest, I've felt some kind of dread at the beginning of each of my pregnancies—even with the girl's. After my first miscarriage, I was shocked. I knew that miscarriage was common, but I never thought it would happen to me. I trusted my body completely, so I felt betrayed when I lost that first baby. It took me a long time to realize that miscarriage isn't a bodily betrayal. Still I have a hard time letting go of the worry. I want hard proof that this baby is OK.
I once read that faith is not about believing in a specific outcome but rather faith is about trusting that everything will be alright regardless of the outcome. Even though I'm feeling nervous about the unknown, I'm holding on to this idea of faith. It's true; regardless of the outcome I have been OK. Each pregnancy is a blessing no matter what. I get to experience the sacred act of creating life. Today I am pregnant. Today I have a tiny baby inside of me. There's no guarantee for what tomorrow will bring, but today I have faith that everything is going to be just fine.