I feel a little like George Bailey this morning. Except I am not a guy. I don’t have a savings and loan, an Uncle Billy with an animal menangerie, a Mr. Potter making my life miserable, a bum ear from saving my brother from drowning as a child, or a guardian angel named Clarence. If I took my guardian angel to a bar, he certainly wouldn’t order mulled wine, heavy on the cinnamon, easy on the cloves. He would order one of those mortifying electric blue tropical drinks with a zillion umbrellas, a flaming dolphin, and a coconut shell to hold it all together. Virgin, of course.

I guess I am trying to say thank you for all your wonderful comments, prayers, and words of wisdom. It is humbling and uplifting at the same time. And I thank all of you for avoiding this:

Like one who takes away a garment on a cold day, or like vinegar poured into soda, is one who sings songs to a heavy heart (Proverbs 25:20).

By singing songs, I mean that nobody felt the need to remind me of all the good in my life, all the blessings I do have. I know that. I didn’t miscarry my eyeballs or my brain.

My procedure is this afternoon. I am nervous about making a return trip to the OR. The same OB that did my last procedure is performing today’s. If last time is any indication, I will come home and crawl into bed for the next day.

Thanks again. I am so touched and blessed by your support and prayers, and in too many cases, close understanding.

A friend emailed this verse to me yesterday: Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:34

I am one of those people who tends to worry about tomorrow, next week, and next Christmas. Finally, I have been given the gift of not having to worry about tomorrow. Today certainly has sufficient trouble. I would go a step farther than sufficient, calling the trouble of today hyper-adequate with the bonus feature of huge heartbreak potential.

I am not very positive about today’s ultrasound. I truly wish I could be the paragon of grace and bravery as I contemplate today.

When I signed up for this trip, I knew this could happen. Nobody booked their Titanic voyage expecting to only make it as far as Latitude 41 degrees 46’N, Longitude 50 degrees 14’W. They were aiming for Latitude 40 degrees 39′ N, Longitude 73 degrees 47′ W. I was hoping for early February.

Reading back over this, I realize it sounds like it is a done deal. That today will be a formality. That I have the power to see inside my body or know thriving when I feel it. Clearly, I don’t. I had no clue I was pregnant with twins. I had no clue one of the twins had already died. “No clue” seems to be the phrase in the parentheses after my name is typed out.

I hope I can come home and finally look up whether or not my due date is on Super Bowl Sunday. I’d like to put an ultrasound picture on the refrigerator so I can smile at my surviving bean whilst getting popsicles out for anxious big brothers and a big sister.

God, help me.