Some of you may know, or not know, that we had a miscarriage last month, on November 6. It is a hard thing to "announce" and bring up in ordinary conversation. So sometimes it gets left unsaid.
We found out we were pregnant the day after Brian's birthday, on October 4. We were excited and nervous, and of course, wondering how in the world we would handle it all. Our house is already too small, and has been ever since our little Anna came into our world. However, no matter what, this baby was always loved and wanted.
Looking back, I can see that I perhaps felt differently about this pregnancy, as if I knew something wasn't right. I wouldn't have been able to acknowledge that going through it, but in hindsight, something felt off. Brian said he felt the same way. Perhaps it was the Lord's way of preparing us, though I still felt unprepared for the sorrow we faced.
Since I am not 25 or even 35, I knew pregnancy at my age is risky. Knowing that, I decided to have my hCG levels tested. Those numbers are supposed to at least double every two or three days. If they do not, it is a big warning sign that something might be wrong with the pregnancy. When my numbers only rose by a few thousand, but no where near double, it was suggested that I come in for an ultrasound.
At 7 weeks, we got to see our tiny little baby. Their heart was beating, but the rate was on the lower side, at 100 BPM. Its size was measuring about 5 days behind. I also had a clot in my uterus near the baby, which wasn't necessarily a problem, but could be. I was told to come back in one week.
I did whatever I could that week to help my baby, not that there is really much anyone can do. I ate more, willing my baby to grow. I drank nettle tea two times a day, a wonderful tea for development of the fetus. I prayed. We asked our church to pray. I really believed God would turn this situation around.
We arrived for the second ultrasound, and that experience itself was pretty bad, considering the doctor wasn't there to talk with us afterward, and we had to go home guessing the bad news but not knowing for sure. Our baby's heart rate, though still there, had slowed so much it could not be counted. And our precious little love had shrunk in size.
This was told to me over the phone, since we had made the 45-minute drive by the time the doctor was able to call me. I was told to prepare for a miscarriage. My options were surgery (a D and C), or take drugs to speed it up and do it at home (after another ultrasound to confirm death of baby), or wait for it all to happen on its own.
I could barely get off the phone with the doctor without my voice cracking and falling apart, and into my husband's arms I collapsed. I sobbed. Oh, the grief was great! He held me and whispered words of comfort, but I just saw our baby slipping away from me. No! This cannot be happening! We want this baby! All the babies that are aborted every single day, and this baby is wanted! LOVED! No, I don't want to let them go! I don't want to feel this pain!
I knew I didn't want to have the surgery. I didn't want the drugs either. In fact, I canceled the next ultrasound they had scheduled for me. I had no wish to see my lifeless baby on the screen. The doctor had said it could take up to a month for the miscarriage to take place. So, I tried to get prepared mentally for the physical stuff, whenever it would happen. I wondered how I could handle it at home if Brian was at work, trying to deal with that and take care of the kids.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. One week and a day later, I began to have cramps after breakfast, at about 7:30. It was a Saturday, but Brian had to go for a grocery pickup, and for reasons that don't need to be explained here, we choose to go to a town several towns away. It was already ordered, and he needed to go. He planned to call me every so often to check in on me.
The cramps steadily got worse. I didn't know how soon it would happen, but I knew my body was getting ready. I had looked up as much info on miscarriage as I could find, but still all my questions were not answered. I knew I just had to walk this road and find out myself. I prepared lunch early for the kids, trying to get that done as the cramps grew stronger. I was starting to double over at times, and I pulled up a song by Natalie Grant, called "Held". It is about a mother losing a 2-month old, and really, it is about suffering and loss for anyone. I played it on the computer, or my phone, I don't remember which, and with tears streaming down my face, and my cramps building up in my abdomen, I got the boys' food on the table.
Anna was waiting to nurse, so I was just trying to take care of everyone in order that I could take care of myself when the moment came. I sat down with her, and as she nursed, I felt a ceasing of the cramps very suddenly, and something like a pop in my abdomen. Is this it, I wondered? When she was done, I felt like the time had come, and the first of many, many trips to the bathroom began. It was just before 10:30.
Brian called just after the miscarriage, and I let him know it happened, and off he sped down the road, trying to get to me as soon as possible. The physical stuff takes a while, and several hours later, I was about ready to throw up and pass out.
In the song "Held" it talks about the sacred being "torn" from your life. It is exactly how a miscarriage feels. I cannot say it any better. That baby is being ripped away from your very person. I wanted them, loved them, and there was nothing I could do to keep them with me.
I don't mean to be melodramatic. I am certainly not the first woman to miscarry, nor will I be the last. And losing a living child would be a far worse pain than what I have experienced. Still, it is something to mourn. It is a loss. We must take that time to grieve and let go.
Each time I think I am over it, and my eyes will cease watering up once and for all, it sneaks up on me again. I think of the soft cheeks I long to kiss, and the blue eyes I never got to gaze upon. (We are all blue here, so I am sure this one would be the same.) To not know if they were a boy or a girl. I think of Anna who doesn't get to be a big sister. There is a great chasm between me and my baby, and I can't get to them, no matter how much I wish to.
And yet, God speaks. God comforts. I know where my baby is. My baby is in heaven, full of joy and at peace. I don't say it merely because I wish it. I say this with certainty. I know my God. I know my Jesus takes babies in His arms, who are too little to reject Him, too little to make those big decisions of eternity and salvation.
My loss here on Earth will one day be my GAIN. One day, after I meet Jesus, I believe He will show me what I will be waiting my whole life to see, my little one at long last. This sorrow will not last forever.
It won't matter if they died in my womb or lived 100 years. They are spending eternity in heaven. And that is ETERNITY! I will get to be with them, forever. Without a shadow of a doubt, my faith is in Jesus. I am a sinner in desperate need of His salvation. I am covered in His blood. By His wounds, I am healed.
I have prayed and asked God that He could let our baby know that they were loved. They were always wanted. I read a book by Pastor Erwin Lutzer, coincidentally after I prayed this earnest prayer, and he believes God can honor those types of prayers. I hope He does.
My friend Amanda sent me the above ornament. It was the first ornament I put on the tree this year, and I am thankful for the beautiful reminder of our unborn, but never unloved, precious baby.
While I don't relish this experience, I am thankful that it at least helps me understand other women going through a miscarriage, and I hope and pray God will use me to bring comfort to someone hurting. I don't know that I will ever "get over it". I think there will always be a hole in my heart, but I have the hope of seeing them one day. One glorious day!
Below are the lyrics to "Held" by Natalie Grant, written by Christa Nichole Wells, which truly helped to "hold" me during this time. Truly, Jesus does hold us in all our of sorrows, when we reach the very end of ourselves.
To my precious baby I never got to hold: Your Daddy and I love you more than words can say. Looking forward to heaven now has new meaning for me, since you are there. God created you in my womb. Psalm 139 says He knit you together. You, my darling baby, though you were so tiny, and didn't get to live long on Earth, you have an eternal soul. Your life, though short, has significant value. You will always mean something to me, every day of my life. I never will stop loving you. Love, Mama
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We're asking why this happens to us who have died to live
It's unfair
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell, we'd be held
We wanna taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow
The wise hand opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell, we'd be held
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell, we'd be held
Yeah, ooh be held, oh
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell, we'd be held
