Wait

I was antsy all morning. I just wanted to know, one way or another. I just wanted a yes or a no. I prayed for answers. For clarity. I always get nervous before doctor's appointments, but this one was particularly nerve-wrecking. 
I had a plan. If it was positive, I would tell no one, not now, but I would celebrate. Maybe buy myself a new magazine, some fancy new shampoo, something. Something to celebrate the miracle. If it was negative, well, I would be prepared for that too. I'd go buy some cookie dough and eat it raw. I'd have caffeine. Maybe some sushi. Because you can do that when not pregnant.
But one way or another, I just wanted an answer. 
I went to my doctor's appointment, nervous as ever. Shivering. Was it that cold in there or was I imagining things? I got on the scale when they called my name. I was bummed that I've gained a pound or two. I need to get over being so vain. They took my blood pressure. Sky high. "Are you nervous, honey?" the nurse asks. "You could say that" I smile back. I peed in a cup. I didn't have very good aim (maybe from nerves?). And then.....I waited. For what seemed like an eternity. The doctor came in. Asked me how I had been feeling since my miscarriage. "Sick to my stomach, and sad, I guess". The truth is, I am much more than sad, I am questioning things I shouldn't even be questioning, about God and such. But I don't tell him this. He asks me if I see someone to talk about my feelings with. I laugh and say yes, I have a B.A. in Psychology, of course I see someone. He laughs and says good. 
He gives me the short story: they aren't going to bother with a normal pregnancy test. They don't trust it given my miscarriage history. They will run a blood test (Oh, the horror. I'm always afraid I'm going to catch something. They talk about my fear of needles, they say. Joy). They will know by Friday. If I am pregnant, then I am pregnant. If not, there are a list of tests they will do. Ultrasounds to check for scarring. Genetic tests. Tests on Ben. I haven't had this many tests since my college days. 
I walked out of the office feeling as confused as ever. This morning, I was praying. I wondered if I'm stupid to keep hoping, month after month, year after year. I feel a quiet voice whisper "It's never stupid to hope. Never". I wonder sometimes. 
I prayed for answers, for clarity. My answer is this: wait. Wait til Friday, wait until the next test. Keep on keeping on, and all the while, wait.  God is never late. Not by his timetable. Definitely by mine, but that's okay. 
I'm confused. I wrestled with whether or not to write this all, but you know, I don't have to be ashamed of my body's shortcomings. It doesn't make me less of a woman. This is my story, and it's mine because God gave it to me. 

Thank you all, for holding my hands while I wait.