If you haven’t met me, let me introduce myself. I am a type A personality. At least I think so. I don’t know a lot about personalities, but from what I hear, that’s probably me although over the years I have softened….a lot. I was talking to my counselor about it the other day during my visit. We were talking about the appointment my husband and I had with the high risk maternal fetal doctor. My regular OB had sent us for a consult to see what steps, if any, needed to be taken in the future, and if there were any tests they could think of to run. We had to wait for about 2 weeks to get in, and when we got there he told us what we figured he would – that after looking over 40 pages of paperwork in my chart, he found our series of unfortunate incidences and tragedy to be “bad luck” – no testing or further visits needed. It was no surprise to us at all – we were told at the hospital that the cause of our baby’s death was very clearly a cord accident that had no cause other than accidental. We were told the same by our doctor also. And now, we were being told by another doctor, but for some reason I couldn’t help feeling let down. I was really downright sad for a few days and I couldn’t figure out why. I mean, in all reality he had given us the best possible news – that we were not high risk in any way and that our chances of a healthy baby in the future was the same as any other couple trying to have a baby. Sounds good. The best news possible after what we have been through, but I realized that the best wasn’t good enough. I realized that nothing short of “everything will be fine” would make me feel any better and less afraid and that being a doctor he couldn’t say that. He told us the truth meaning that like everyone we have to face a 20 percent chance of miscarriage….a 1 percent chance of stillbirth. Those numbers might be acceptable to some – they were to us once too - but now, having been on the astronomically losing side of odds, statistics are no comfort. I guess it was just another reality check that there are no, and will be no guarantees which is just what I was discussing with my doctor, commenting on the fact that people with anxiety usually face control issues of some sort. I am no exception, but I do recognize it and have actively tried to change it. For many years, I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. Everything from how the towels were folded to peace in Israel, I was sure would fall apart if I didn’t do it, and I am so grateful that I am not like that today. My counselor asked how that happened and as I read off a list of extraordinarily difficult situations from my college years, to my divorce, to the last four years, all of which were out of my control, she just looked at me. Then she asked “And your response to all that was to let go of control a little more each time”? It didn’t occur to me before then, but it’s true. Instead of holding on tighter, I let go. It wasn’t an innate response, but you can either allow struggle to strengthen you or defeat you, and pretending to have control when it was becoming increasingly clear that I didn’t have all that much, sure seemed like a fraud and a denial and a failure. I do have hope in the future, and my hope is in my ability to continue to trust God with the outcome.