Alone in a room full of people...

(I wrote this post one year ago today...and never pushed publish. I decided to publish it today, because unfortunately, someone somewhere may feel all alone in a room full of people.)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sitting in a waiting room sea of pregnant moms. 

Everyone has a smile on their face. As best I can tell, I'm the only one in here with a dead baby inside.

Am I assuming? Yes. Am I going to confirm and take a poll? No.

Husband asked if seeing babies or pregnant people this week upset me. I said no. He said it hurt him and made him angry. But I haven't really left the house since Monday when I found out about the miscarriage.

Hurts more than I thought. And everywhere (here especially) there are reminders of a baby in heaven. 

Here's a list I found on my phone of things we needed...

Adding insult to injury is the fact that I still feel so nauseous. Feel like I could vomit at any moment.

They didn't ask me to pee in a cup today. Why would I? No baby. No need to. Still, I notice.

Wasn't prepared for the procedure that awaited me.

When we found out we had a dead baby inside and no active miscarriage on the horizon, we opted for a semi-natural way to facilitate the miscarriage. I would take pills to encourage the miscarriage and wait. 

I had no idea that four pills later I would have nothing. Nothing to show. Nothing happened. Body still thinks I'm pregnant and I'm nauseated. Constantly. Daily reminder.

So after a full week, we returned to the doctor on Friday for an ultrasound to see if anything had progressed and to weigh options.

I should mention at this point that we have no insurance. So everything we do, we pay cash for.  And apparently miscarriages cost more than having live babies. And that is just wrong.

Sorry, you're baby is dead. And this is going to be long, drawn out and terribly painful with no happy ending; oh, and this will cost you...more than having the baby live. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I read this today, my heart hurts a little for the woman who wrote this. I hurt for her pain. I hurt for her sadness. I hurt because I can feel the emotions behind her words.

While I'm the one who wrote this, some 365 days ago, I'm not the same woman...praise the Lord. No, hopefully, I am a stronger, better woman. A woman who trusts God's plan even when I don't see it, I don't understand it and especially, when I don't agree with it.

I miss our babies. I miss our children we lost, now that there have been two. While I would choose to live without the pain of this past year, I am also thankful to have walked this road.

I would love to tell you this drew me closer to Jesus. That I fell to my knees and wept and pledged my love and heart to Jesus on the many hard days that followed October 14, 2013. I would love to tell you that my heart is whole and healed and my attitude is right toward my Heavenly Father.

I am ashamed of how I've acted this past year in my walk with the Lord...and yet...

Here's what I will tell you instead. If you know Jesus, know this...He loves you. He loves me. His body was broken for you, and for me. He bore our sins - yours and mine - because we never could. We never could atone for the horrible things we would do. So, He died...for you and for me.

That doesn't mean we won't have pain and heartache. That doesn't mean that dark days are not ahead. It means this: today, I still love Jesus and I still need Him. If God allows me a tomorrow, I will still love Him and still need Him. Each day teaches me that I simply need Him more. More and more and more and more.

This past year has been a dark year. I have been angry and distant and running away from Him instead of to Him so He could heal me. And still, He loves me. He loved me in the midst of my sin and anger and distance. And He loves you just the same...

Wherever you are, in whatever ways you are broken and hurting, there is a God who loves you. Beyond measure. Beyond compare.

"But God demonstrates His love for us in this: that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us..." Romans 5:8

Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day - 1 Year

There isn't a day that goes by that two precious angels don't cross my mind. The memories of their short lives (7.5 weeks miscarried) are never far from me. The pain of losing them is still fresh in my heart.

And yet, I am so thankful for where God has me...exactly one year later from our first experience with miscarriage.

I certainly never expected a second miscarriage, but then, honestly I never expected the first one.

This time last year, I could barely pray. I was angry, bitter and broken. 

But, God. 

This time last year I couldn't cry out to my Savior on my own. My amazing husband, wonderful friends and other, dear, loved ones did it on our behalf. When I couldn't pray, they prayed for me. When I couldn't worship, they worshipped for me. 

Jesus rescued me. He stood with me and strengthened me. Even when I didn't want to be strengthened. 

I am thankful that God is faithful, that His Word is true, that He never leaves us nor forsakes us...

I am thankful for my amazing and wonderful and loyal and strong husband. He is too good to me. 

He prays for me. He encourages me. He points me to Jesus. Daily.

We have five sweet, precious, amazing children. Lego Man, Wonder Woman, Superman and two precious angels. 

I pray that my heart will be more faithful to my loving God, because surely in this life, there will be more heartache.

"I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall continually be in my mouth!" Psalm 34:1

(You can read more about our journey by clicking here, here, and here.)

Thank you...part 2

Read part 1 here...

I do believe in God's goodness and mercy. This experience has brought me to the edge of my faith. And I wish I could say I was that Godly woman who cried out, "God, give me more of you even if I have to walk this hard and terrible road along the way..." But through this, I wasn't that woman. I have been so faithless. Questioning God. Wanting to understand and to know why. 

There have been days where I haven’t even wanted to pray. Aside from the fact that I haven’t known what to pray, I simply didn’t want to. Because praying meant a flood of tears and heartache.

A dear friend texted me one night to check on me shortly after the D&C. I told her I felt hopeless. I’ve heard before that hopelessness or despair is a sin because we are believing the lie that God doesn’t win, that God doesn’t prevail, that there’s no hope. And since we have Jesus, we always have hope…

She told me to pray, to cry out to God and ask why. That He understands and can handle all my questions. And I told her I didn’t want to pray. And as I typed those words a surge of anger within me caused me to pound the buttons on my phone.

She said she would pray for me. “I’ll pray for you, then…”

Five words. Five words that I assure you I felt tangibly over the next week. Like a warm blanket over my soul.

And other friends, who had no idea what was going on in our lives, messaged or texted me to let me know they were thinking of me and praying for me. And as these messages trickled in, I would share with each of them the road we were walking. Or perhaps crawling is a more fitting term.

People were praying for us. The emotions, the pain, the anger, the lack of understanding…it easily overwhelms. I think it magnifies the insecurities I already have. Perhaps that’s a trick of the enemy to kick us while we are down. All I can tell you is that the pain I felt led me to question and contemplate every detail of our lives. Sometimes I think that’s good…to assess where I am and ask the Lord to show me all the areas that need less of me and more of Him. Sometimes, though, the enemy sneaks in and uses it to attack and harm and distract. Because it’s easy to get caught up in all that I’m doing wrong and forget to focus on the One who sees me, loves me, forgives me and heals me.

“He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3

I know He is healing me. I feel the prayers of those who love me. I remember the words I have hidden in my heart for times like these.

And today, I want to pray. I want more of Him. I want to worship.

Not because I feel whole. Not because I feel better and happy and life is ladybugs and sparkles.

No, I don’t feel any of that. But feeling the desire to pray and the need for worship is sweet. And I feel hopeful. I know I will always miss the baby we lost. The baby without a name. The baby we knew nothing about. The baby with no heartbeat. Our baby in heaven.

The moments when the clouds part...

It was raining last Monday (Oct 14) when I went for my first ultrasound on baby 4 to learn that we were having a delayed or missed miscarriage. In other words, our baby was dead, but my body still bought I was pregnant with a live baby. 

It seemed to rain all week. 

And I loved it. The dark skies, cooler temperatures and ominous clouds matched my mood. 

And as the week continued, the clouds remained. Over my head and outside my window. 

But today, after a long night of cramping and perhaps some change in my body, I woke up feeling...better. Not great, good, excellent or even okay. Just better. 

The kids had gone to my parents to celebrate Mimi's birthday. They were coming home shortly. I woke up later than my pre-miscarriage self. And promptly set myself up on the couch with oatmeal. 

But what was different about this morning is that I didn't feel like sleeping all day. And that, my friends, is a step in the right direction. 

To match my better mood, I noticed the sun was out. And though I miss the rain and stormy weather, I am ready for the grieving process to progress. And I need the sun to dry up my tears and The Lord to heal this hurt in my heart. 

For the first time in my life, I have questioned God and His Word. And I have certainly questioned all the pretty and profound Christian or otherwise positive quotes. I know His Word. I know His promises. 

And so I wait. To see His hand in all of this. 

Progress...

I suppose it's up for debate if I've made progress or not. 

After a decent sleep accompanied by a mediocre round of cramping, I woke up and didn't feel nauseated. I also noticed that coffee sounded good. Or at least tolerable. But I wasn't brave enough or energized enough to try it today. Another day. 

(Since about 5 weeks, I have felt nauseated all day long with very little relief. I have also been disgusted by the thought of coffee. And normally, I'm a coffee connoisseur. I also have turned my nose up to chocolate, but I'm embarrassed to admit that out loud. I kid.)

All I have to go by are the experiences of others that I've read about online. So far, though, I haven't had any severe cramping (think labor pains) or gushes of blood (TMI). In fact, it's been so uneventful I have no idea what to expect. Or what to think. 

I have felt so bad while pregnant that I haven't wanted to do anything. I haven't dressed up, put on makeup, or really gone anywhere. No pics of the tummy. And there was a tiny bump. Goodness, this would have been baby #4. It was already out there. I have wanted to eat. Eating made the nausea subside for a short time. Even now my appetite has changed again. This homemade ice cream sandwich sounded good the other night. 

So we continue to wait. For what? I don't know. And the unknown has me quite anxious. Since it could be awful or not so awful. And when it's all over and my body is empty, there's the sadness and the grieving. 

The realization that the baby won't be coming in May. 

Losing...

Well, I wish I could say that I'm back. That my month long+ hiatus from blogging is over. Truthfully, I don't know. The last month has been challenging in ways I never imagined. 

First, let me begin by saying this is our story. I share it only because this was such a new and unknown experience to me. Of all that's transpired over the last week, what's bothered me most was how little I understood what happened, what didn't happen and what might happen. I keep telling my husband I wish someone would have told me. I wish I knew. I have no idea what to expect. The unknown is what has scared me. 

If this is TMI or disturbs you or causes you pain in some way, I'm so sorry. I write this for people like me who wish they'd known what was coming or what to expect. I know lots of people suffer this. I had no idea just how many. 

(Source: http://windmillfarmofgridley.blogspot.com/)

I had not yet shared this, but we were expecting. We were expecting and due in May. The kids were thrilled. Husband and I were ecstatic. But for the first time in all of my pregnancies, I was sick. I simply felt awful. I had just decided that I was getting older and this was part of being an older mom. All day, every day. I felt awful and exhausted. With three kids at home doing homeschool it was a challenge. And they have been awesome. Helpful. Encouraging. Kind. 

Our first doctor appointment was a week ago...Monday. October 14. From the moment I woke up, I had a nervous feeling in my stomach. I couldn't really explain it. I was going alone to the appointment because of a conversation I had in my head with my husband that went something like this.  

"Our doctor appointment is Monday at 10:30. I think we will get to see the baby," I told him. 

"Sounds good," he said. 

But then on Monday he said I never told him. I said I did.  He couldn't make it in time. So I went solo. 

Now I think it was pregnancy brain. One of those conversations in my head that never actually happened. 

I found out at the appointment that I was closer to 12 weeks than I thought. A relief in my mind. But I couldn't stop being nervous. 

When the doctor came in and it was time for the ultrasound, I saw it instantly. I knew instantly that I would stare at that monitor In hopes that I could develop some sort of superhero power to change the image staring back at me. Like the X-ray vision that my little Super-Spider-Man is always wishing for. 

No movement. No heartbeat jumping about on the screen. If you've ever had or witnessed an ultrasound, and the baby is fine, you know fairly quickly. The little heartbeat can be seen because it causes movement in the body. Turn on the volume and you can hear it. And the heartbeat...that reassuring cadence that tells a momma, "I'm okay in here. Just humming along. I'm growing, mommy." Well, it wasn't there. None of the reassuring things typical in a viable pregnancy were there. 

My doctor's voice was far away. Like in a movie. As if my head was underwater as I listened and let the news sink in. 

"I know what I'm looking. I'm 99% sure. Your pregnancy should be at 11 weeks 6 days. Your baby is much smaller. Measuring at 7 weeks. As you heard there was no heartbeat. I'm so very sorry. Would you like some water?" 

She continued. I think. 

"We can talk about your options. Or we can wait and you can call me later. Did someone come with you?" 

I shook my head. 

"Well, we can schedule a D&C. I can give you some pills to take at home.  Or we can let this progress on its own. Would you like to think about it? Would you like a second opinion?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to look at another ultrasound of my dead baby ever. Once was more than enough. 

I cried the whole way home. And off and on daily since then.

So we have spent the week and then some weighing our options. And we opted for taking pills to facilitate the miscarriage at home. 

And it's been a longer, more difficult week than I ever imagined. And I'm thankful more than ever for my wonderful husband. Our children and our family have been amazing. We are blessed in spite of this. 

And my heart is so incredibly heavy. Broken. 

(Source: http://www.inbloomnewyork.com)