On the hard days...

I haven't been vague about what this miscarriage has done to my faith. No, in fact, I think I've shared that basically this miscarriage has rocked my faith to its core.

Why? Why would something like this take me so far away from the strong faith, praise the name of Jesus at all times, cry out to Him and run to Him faith I have clung to for so many years?

I don't know. I just don't. I don't have the answers.

But today, it was a hard day. Not so much over the miscarriage, but over everything. Over the pain and struggle of this life and this world. Over the sadness and grief and pain that is this life.

And when I think one more time, as I have so many times since October that God's ears don't hear my cries anymore, He sends light in the form of a text message from a friend. It never fails...she texts me whenever I am sad, hurt, broken once again. Just to check on me. And let me know that she cares.

The rows were all full...

We like to sit on the ends of the rows at church...are we weird or do most people prefer that?

Wonder Woman only 6 months old.

Tonight at church, the ends of the rows were all full as I quickly approached the middle of the sanctuary. I was secretly wishing we had spent less time drinking hot chocolate in the lobby and focused on getting to our seats, but the kids enjoyed the cocoa, and I enjoy them.

Then miraculously, as if the heavens opened and a light shone down, the end of one row was open. For us. Can't you hear the choirs of angels singing?

Oh, you can't? Maybe it wasn't that dramatic. But there is often a lot of anxiety surrounding church for me, so in my mind it was just like that.

I ushered the kids into their seats, I took my seat, and husband sat down in the end seat.

Superman sleeping only 13 months old.

A little girl came to the stage reciting scriptures from Luke 2. I was thoroughly paying attention to her. As she finished we stood to sing a Christmas carol, and then, in that  moment as we stood, I saw her right in front of me.

A precious little girl, maybe 4 months old. She wore candy cane, striped tights, ballets flats, and a white onesie with Santa on the front and bell sleeves.

I can't say I wouldn't have sat there if I noticed her first, but I certainly would have braced myself a little more for impact.

And as we stood and sang "Silent Night" my eyes filled with tears, the lump in my throat returned, and my face wanted to maneuver into the ugly cry for a moment.

For whatever reason, I stopped. The tears filled my eyes, but didn't fall. I watched her a lot during the service. I noticed her smile and the way her little brother played with her. It's funny what you notice when you've lost something...someone...

Perhaps I didn't cry because I was enjoying the moment God gave me. I was sitting with my family - all of them - at the Christmas Eve service for our church. It was the perfect Christmas present for me. To have us all together at church, singing Christmas carols, laughing, learning, worshipping.

Lego Man only 4 months old. 

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.

Today...

Today I found your story.

I see that you are expecting.

Lego Man born in 2002

You posted your bump pics.

I took a pregnancy test.

                                                       

You posted your cravings.

I told my husband our exciting news.

Today you posted your recent workouts and runs.

Today I felt strong in my run knowing our sweet baby was inside.

Today you posted the sex of your baby.

Today I felt sick for the first time ever in my four pregnancies.

Today you posted the countdown to your due date.

Tomorrow I have my first doctor appointment at 11 weeks.

Today you posted your birth plan.

I sat in a waiting room of moms to be...waiting for my turn with the doctor.

Today you posted your baby bump update.

Today I lay on the table praying to hear the baby's heartbeat.

Today you placed your hand on your sweet belly as expectant moms often do.

Today I tried to be brave and strong as our doctor told us our baby had been dead for weeks. 5 weeks actually.

Today you said you were dilated to a 1.

Today I took medicine to force the dead baby out of my body.

Today I read your story again and wished it were mine.

Today my heart ached for the baby we lost. And I cried. Uncontrollably.

Today was your due date.

Today, after waiting 10 days for the miscarriage to happen on its own, today...I had a d&c.

Today you were sad you were still pregnant days after your due date passed.

Wonder Woman born in 2005

Today I wished our little one was still safely inside, heart beating strong, growing.

Today you posted a picture of your sweet new baby with a line that said "birth story coming soon..."

Today I shook while I cried over a birth story that will never be told.

Today...I realized that I haven't cried in five days.

Today I saw you when you walked into church. Your precious pregnant belly.

And I didn't cry.

I watched you sit directly in front of me.

And I didn't cry.

I watched a dad carry his newborn baby by our seats in the church.

And your husband looked at you and smiled.

And the smile...the look...broke my heart again. It was as if the wound ripped open, top to tail and the tears wouldn't stop.

And as I tried to sing of God's faithfulness, declaring my trust in His goodness, I wept. Bitterly. Angrily. Broken-hearted. And lonely.

Today I saw an acquaintance at the grocery store. I offered congratulations at the news of her pregnancy.

But inside I wanted to scream. “I was pregnant too! I was due in May!”

Today I received baby announcements in the mail.

And I stared at the photos for what seemed like an eternity.

Superman born in 2008

Today Superman asked how big the baby would be if it weren’t in heaven.

And I showed him. I had actually lost count of the weeks, because I stopped counting when we found out the baby was gone. And tears filled my eyes and sadness filled my heart.

And in the midst of all of this, I do trust God. I do see His goodness. I do speak His truth to our children, and proclaim His love to them with wholehearted conviction.

And I am grateful…for three children; three amazing, awesome and incredible children. And an amazing, awesome and incredible man who wins “husband of the year” for taking care of me throughout this drawn out process and holding me while I cried.

And I know that I don’t understand, but I still trust Him. I may never understand, but I still trust Him.

The baby would have been 19 weeks today. 

(Husband told me to share with you all that after he read this he would like to write his own version...but he couldn't.)

Thank you...

Thank you, God, for taking the baby now...and not waiting until later when the pain might be so much greater. 

I have become that person I always hoped I would not be...I have joined the unofficial club of women who have miscarried.

My firstborn...

The club (I would guess) that no one wants to join. The club no one realizes exists until you have become an involuntary member. 

And the person you become once you join these ranks is both a mix of all the good and bad in the world. 

The good...your heart grows to reach out to others who join the ranks after you. You love. You empathize. You feel the pain with the new members. You care. You wish you could take away the pain. 

And of course, you love those who miscarried before you, but I feel that I almost look up to them for help, guidance, or even reassurance that all will be okay one day.

The bad...and then, every single day it seems, that new baby announcements roll in. Perhaps not every day, but all things baby seem larger than life and exaggerated at the moment. So, for this reason we will use the term everyday. And you think, "if I see one more beautiful family announcing a coming baby, I will poke out my eyes to stop the pain in my heart..."

My sleepyheaded girl...


Oh, you don't think that? Well, call me a new kind of crazy. But those precious pictures bruise my very sensitive heart. And if you've been through it, perhaps they bruise yours too. I don't assume to know. Everyone walks this road so differently and still so much the same.

Please don't misunderstand. I am excited for you, cute pregnant woman. I am excited for your first, second, third, fourth baby. I am. It's just a little like salt on a wound seeing your pregnant tummy. And knowing I would be (insert # here) weeks along by now. I have actually forgotten how many weeks I would be. I think I forgot on purpose, because normally I’m a dates and numbers kind of girl. But this number is more painful to remember than to forget.

Navigating this experience has been more difficult than I ever imagined. I think it's the unknown that makes walking this out such a challenge. Moment by moment the emotions change. I fall asleep in tears. I wake up numb. I fall asleep numb. I wake up in tears. 

And I know one day I will heal and be okay. My fear, though, is that the numbness will take over and make my heart a bit more calloused in an effort to preserve my soul. Because numb is better than pain in the short term. And sometimes in the pain, short term is all you can consider. Long term is elusive at best.

My master of facial expressions...

I saw a woman at the grocery store yesterday. She lives in my neighborhood. Our kids play at the pool in the summertime. She is a nice woman. A Godly woman. A modest woman. A smart woman. So many qualities I have noticed about her as I’ve spent hours at the pool around her this past summer.

She told me she was expecting her third and hadn’t felt like going shopping much, but she needed to with the icy storm we were expecting. She said she is due in May.

And just before my heart broke I found myself wanting to scream at her, “Oh my gosh! I was expecting too! I was due in May!” Because I never got to have those conversations. We were still waiting to make the big announcement when we received the news that we had a missed miscarriage. I wanted to share it and be excited and have my heart feel full and joyous. And then I realized that saying that would be so awkward and strange. So I just said, “That’s wonderful! Congratulations.”

And I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I still do. I wanted that baby due in May. Our baby. Our heaven baby.

I realize more and more that I need God. I need Him. To get through grocery store trips and seeing the latest baby announcement online.

I don’t understand Him or His ways. So right now I force myself to go to His Word and remind myself of what His promises, His thoughts toward me…

 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.

 “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:8-9

….to be continued…

Linking up with Imperfect Prose...and The Wiegands.