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Fighting for Faith in the Darkness Part 7

For the full story, please read all our previous posts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

A photo of my in a hospital bed snuggling my two girls.

And so life became once again about survival, but don’t forget our beginning.

We’d gone from searching for a house and adopting to almost exactly two years later me lying in a hospital bed pregnant with our third, a house now more than halfway packed into boxes and absolutely no house that was even sparking our interest. Or hadn’t, things were about to change.

I hated being admitted, but especially this time. It always makes me feel so broken and like a failure. That sounds almost crazy as I can’t help how sick Hyperemesis Gravidarum makes me but especially this time as I’d prepared so dang hard and I’d fought to stay positive and yet here I was almost immediately back to in and out of the hospital.

I hate ivs but I can’t have a picc line as the risk for clotting is too high. HG makes your body sooooo sensitive to touch but add on collapsed veins and you’re in for a lot of pain. I get filled with anxiety just thinking about those moments when they would have to give up on my arms and hands and move ivs to other places, more painful places.

When I was at home I’d often have Cade carry me, walking was not happening as my body was so weak, to a room where I’d slowly, to the point of annoyance pack boxes. You’d think I’d give up, but I was determined to show faith, to ACT. If I wanted this righteous desire, to move into a new home I wanted God to see me actively working and believing it to happen.

And then my weight hit the 70s. I knew it, I knew I’d be put into the hospital. I knew things were bad. But sometimes miracles come in the most inconvenient of circumstances, just look how Christ was born.

So there I was, lying in a hospital bed, absolute silence and maddening boredom from nothing but a wall to stare at and I got a knock at the door.

Every Sunday volunteers bring the sacrament (partaking of bread and water to renew promises to God and remember Christ’s body and blood sacrificed for us) to any who wish to partake. I couldn’t. I ached desperately for it, to feel that peace from church but even opening my mouth to speak made me throw up so how could I eat?!

Continue reading in Part 8 next week…

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