This is raw and emotional, so be prepared! A good friend of mine had a miscarriage about a month ago and she ended up writing about it and I thought it would be a good idea to put my story on "paper" as well! Hallie and Justin will know about the miscarriage one day and it's much easier to write than talk about! I'll have some pics up soon!
I think Jason and I were watching “The Sound of Music” on a
Saturday night in mid September 2009 when I took the first pregnancy test. In less than a minute, it had both
lines. I told him and I think we were
both more shocked than anything. We had
only tried for one month. I ended up
taking two more tests, on different days, at different times of the day. All showed two lines quickly.
I had the typical pregnancy systems (according to what I
read): fatigue, nausea, tenderness. I
remember taking a quick 25 minute nap during my lunch hour. I did the due date calculation on the
internet and it was April 28th. I wondered if I would have the baby
on my birthday.
We decided not to tell people until I had my first doctor’s
appointment, but Jason ended up telling his brother and I told my boss and
office manager since I had my annual review around that time of the year.
I felt nervous for the first appointment, knowing that many
women leave with bad news.
I remember the tech looking at the monitor during my
ultrasound and asking me, “Are you sure about the first day of your last
cycle?”
Of course I was sure. It was 2 months ago, to the exact day
that was today. Why would she ask this?
I told her yes.
Then, she flipped around the screen and said, “Because I
just see a sac right now, but no baby.”
I saw on the monitor what looked like a clear, oval shape. No movement, just like an oval you’d draw on
a piece of paper.
I felt confused. I
had read that by now (8 weeks along), there should be a heartbeat.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Well, it could mean that you’re not as far along as we
thought. We’ve had other people come in and it’s taken a few weeks to see the
heartbeat. The doctor will explain
more.”
I felt a twist in my stomach I hadn’t felt in a long time. I
had expected a “Yes, you are pregnant” or an “Unfortunately, no, you aren’t
pregnant.”
But I hadn’t expected a maybe……
I had gone to the doctor by myself so as I sat in the room,
waiting for the doctor to come, I remember thinking, ‘What is going on, God?”
The doctor came in and told me that usually at 8 weeks, they
see a baby and heartbeat, but it could be that I was just 6 weeks along and
that was why. She was about my age,
pretty, and very kind as she explained it.
I remember her telling me I’d come back next week for another ultrasound
and in kindness, telling me not to worry too much about it.
I went to the car and called Jason, trying to hold back
tears. He asked me if I was okay and I don’t even know how I replied. I wasn’t okay even if I said I was.
I ate lunch and went back to work that afternoon. Lots of my co-workers were out that afternoon.
It was quiet, calm. I tried to focus on
work, to distract myself, but I couldn’t.
What was I supposed to think? Were we supposed to tell people or wait until
next week? What does this mean?
I felt like my body was betraying me, leading me on to believe
something that wasn’t 100% true.
I hated to think of telling our families not to get too
excited, we weren’t sure if I was really pregnant or not…that seemed like
pulling them into this vortex of uncertainty and sparing them would be the best
thing.
But I remember clearly thinking that if I had a daughter,
and I found out that she had this terrible week of not knowing she was
pregnant, I would be upset if she didn’t tell me. As worrisome and disappointing as it is, I
would rather know about her pain and be with her in it, than to find out later.
So, we told our families.
In one way, it felt good to know I wasn’t hiding something from
them. But I felt bad for adding to
whatever stress they already had.
The week of waiting was hard! “What if” thoughts invaded my
brain constantly. Part of me wanted to
be positive, but the other part wanted me to be prepared if the bad news came.
I’m not even sure how I prayed to God during that time. I felt like fate was sealed, nothing could
change what would happen.
For the next appointment, Jason and my mom went with me. I
remember telling my office manager when I left that I would call her if I
wasn’t coming back (aka bad news).
In the ultrasound room, I could tell there wasn’t a baby yet
because the tech (the same one from the week before) didn’t show the screen right
away. She said things looked about the
same as they did last week, but when is saw the screen, I could tell it was
different.
There was no longer an oval shape; it looked more like a
distorted blob and it had moved down towards the bottom of my uterus. I knew at that point it wasn’t going to be
good news.
The doctor confirmed there was no baby. I remember telling
Jason and mom I was sorry.
Then, for whatever reason, before even thinking, I said
“Maybe you’ll see me again in a couple of months” having no idea why that came
out of my mouth.
We decided that best thing to do would be to take medicine
that would cause contractions before doing the D&C.
I cried as I tried to rest that afternoon as Jason made some
calls to his family. We sent emails to
my co-workers, and friends and got an outpouring of compassionate responses and
prayers. Many opened up about their
miscarriages; some I knew about, some I didn’t.
I thought I could go back to work the next day, but ended up
just wanting to say home and hide.
I waited until after the weekend to take the medicine since
Jason and I had tickets to the U2 concert in Raleigh that Saturday. It ended up being very healing. The concert was outside in the football
stadium and I remember commenting that the moon seemed so close, so bright that
I couldn’t take my eyes off it for awhile.
They played my favorite songs, including one I didn’t expect for their
encore (“UltraViolet- Light My Way”).
We got home Sunday and I had to start the process. I watched movies on the couch for the next
day, taking over the counter pain medication frequency as it felt a bit more
intense than a regular period.
I went back to the doctor on Tuesday, this time seeing the
mid-wife that worked there. She told me she had the same thing happen with her
first pregnancy. I thought that was nice that she shared with me. (She ended up
being the one who delivered Hallie less than a year later).
I had to take another round of medication because the sack
was still there, so I was out of work for a few more days.
I remember the next day going onto my sister in law’s blog.
She was pregnant, due in a few months.
She wrote about how there were so many people that they knew that were
pregnant and how exciting it was that her son would have all these playmates
close to his age.
It hit me like a ton of bricks that I was not included in
that category.
For the first time, I really broke down. I remember sobbing in the shower, feeling so
isolated and alone.
I felt cheated.
I felt like a failure.
I wanted so badly for jealousy and bitterness not to consume
me, but in the next few months, it got harder. My other sister in law at the
time announced a pregnancy, her due date in late May (almost exactly a month behind
what would have been ours). Friends from
college emailed that they were pregnant with their third child, due within a
week or so of when ours would have been due.
I felt like each time, it would have hurt less if someone
had just smacked me in the face.
If having children is a blessing from God, what does it mean
when you have a miscarriage or infertility? Does that mean you’re somehow not
blessed by God? Is it a punishment? Why
do some pregnancies end so tragically, while others don’t?
One of the books I read during that time was Phillip
Yancey’s Where is God When It Hurts?
I had read before, but reading it now took on a different meaning. I wanted so badly to believe that God was
with me in this; that He wasn’t against me.
Some days, grace took over the feelings of confusion and hurt,
and other days, questioning God’s goodness in this situation swarmed likes bees
in my head.
I knew scriptures of God’s sovereignty, that he can take bad
things and turn them into good. I’d seen this with other things that happened
in my life.
But sometimes, I felt so low that I wondered if all this was
in vain.
Added to that was the haunting question I had…was this
really a baby? No fetus actually
developed, but technically, an egg was fertilized and my body treated it as a
pregnancy.
So what did that mean?
I always said I believed a life at conception, but didn’t
really know what they meant. I had no idea there was such a thing as a
“blighted ovum.” (What it is technically
called).
In my head, sometimes I referred to it as a fake pregnancy
and anytime someone makes that joke about “You can’t be a little bit pregnant”,
the cynical side of me rolls my eyes and wants to say “Are you sure about that?
Here’s what can happen” and tell my story.
But if I do truly believe at life at conception (not at 6-8
weeks when there’s a heartbeat/baby), then I have to believe that there is a
baby in heaven for me, that we really have three kids instead of two.
Writing this six years later is easier than writing while
going through it. I have seen God use my
miscarriage to break my pride, strengthen my faith, and find a compassion, a
connection with so many people who ended up having ones of their own.
Today is the exact date and day of the week we found out
there was no baby:
Wednesday, September 30th, 2009.
I always feel a bit sad around this time of year and have
realized that is okay. A loss is a
loss.
So, today I honor the baby I won’t meet until heaven- the
one, who despite a short earthly existence, impacted my life and also the lives
of others.
You helped me believe that God’s love and grace are there
even in sad circumstances.
You helped me connect with God and people in a way I never
knew before.
Your short life was not in vain.
