I've been debating whether or not to write this post for days now. But shared blog posts from my sister-in-law and my brother encouraged me to write. Both for the healing of my heart and for the memory of my Little Baby.
It was a few days after Thanksgiving and I was waiting. Waiting on my body. Could I really be pregnant? Highly unlikely considering John and I's careful planning. We loved the idea of growing our family, but not just yet. Two babies under the age of two was challenge enough for us! Either way, I pushed baby thoughts from my mind. I was still nursing and I knew that could skew my cycle. Fast forward a week and I was now home in Texas. And I couldn't suppress baby thoughts any longer. John convinced me to take a test. Much to my surprise it was indeed positive. I was overcome by a number of emotions - How? Why? HOW? Will people think we're nuts? Will people think we're callous considering my brother and his wife's recent loss of their baby boy? I had difficulty sorting out my emotions. I was excited. I was sad - I was really looking forward to a summer with two walking, sleeping kids! I also faced serious self-doubt for I am not a confident momma to babies. Give me a toddler and I'm set! Babies are just hard for me. I LOVE my baby snuggles and giggles and watching their endless new discoveries, but the feeding on demand, crying to communicate every need/desire, and the constant need for momma's closeness honestly is a challenge for me. So the thought of doing it all again so quickly was scary and frustrating for me. BUT, I knew without a doubt that God had a plan. That this child was a special gift from Him. And that we'd be okay! So over the next month or so my emotional swings abated and I gradually spent more time being happy and excited. My first doctor's appointment had to be pushed back a couple of weeks because I had difficulty finding a sitter. So I made it for John's first available off Friday in the middle of January. I was approximately 11ish weeks. He'd stay with #1 and #2 while I took care of #3....I couldn't help but grin as I left him with both kids...we were now outnumbered. This should be fun!
Having been through two normal, healthy pregnancies I knew from what I saw on the ultrasound and by the way the tech was doing her examination that something was wrong. The room was silent. There was no pointing out of tiny heart flutters or little limb movements. In fact, there was no movement at all. My kind, compassionate doctor gave me the news I already knew...my baby had died. Probably somewhere around 9-10 weeks. I was crushed. My thoughts immediately jumped to John - how was he going to handle this news? He had never been anything but elated. I left the office, holding back tears and called my Mom. Tears flowed - I babbled. I called my best friend Becca. She comforted me and reminded of our Father's sovereignty. I was so sad. And I felt terrible guilt that my first emotions were not thankfulness and excitement. John was heartbroken and in denial for several days. He hoped that maybe the doctor was wrong - seeing as I showed no outward signs of miscarriage. I think it gave him time to deal with the loss.
I chose to allow my body to naturally miscarry. I wouldn't know the day or time or even how much it would hurt...but this was how I wanted it to be. Not much different from an actual delivery in that aspect.
It was horrible. Traumatic. While there was physical pain - the greatest pain was emotional. I had no idea what to expect. I began to spot and feel minor cramping about a week later and It lasted for about 24 hours. Then I began to experience fairly strong early labor-like cramping. It was at this time that I passed my tiny baby. In my bathroom. Alone. With two babies in their highchairs in the kitchen. I couldn't contain my sobs. FC heard me and called for me. But I couldn't leave this tiny baby. I just couldn't. (I did leave to care for my children after calling John.) I called my husband, fairly hysterical, and asked him to come home. He did. We cried and prayed over our child.
I don't know why this happened. It makes no sense. But I know that God has a plan. And pain is part of this life on Earth. I ask "Why?", but then I am also quietly reminded "Why not you?". Through my brother and his wife's loss, they were able to minister to me in a very special way. Losing a child at a month old is very different than a miscarriage, but the emptiness and hurt - it all is very much the same. My sweet friend, Laura, reminded me that sometimes we experience such deep pain to show us God's strength and power - our need and His ability to carry us through the sorrow. And also to show us His control over our lives. But she also said something else that stuck with me. That we shouldn't waste our hurt. That we should use it to glorify God.
Little Baby (as your Daddy and I called you), you were deeply loved by your earthly parents. We are thankful that God gave you to us. And we promise to use your memory to glorify Him. We know you and sweet Landon are together in Heaven and that is the best comfort a momma could have!
I leave you with a link to the March of Dime's post that my brother, Matt, shared with me...
http://marchofdimesfamilyteams.blogspot.com/2014/01/my-2014-resolution-tell-them-real-number.html#links
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