The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Praise the name of Yahweh. – Job 1:21
This is not the kind of post I wanted to be writing, and it’s not the tone I want to set for this blog. So I will write this up and be done with it until I have something happier to talk about.
On June 15th, the Friday before Father’s Day, I was very excited to discover that I was pregnant. I managed to keep it in for two days before telling Pete in a Father’s Day card. We were overjoyed. It only took two months to conceive this time, and the timing was perfect. It was interesting to note that when I was pregnant with our daughter, we found out the Friday before Father’s Day then, too! The due date this time was February 24, the day after our daughter’s birthday. Pete and I wanted our first and second child to be two years apart, and here it was almost exact! With the petty but added bonus of being able to use all the same maternity clothes.
From the time we found out, we prayed earnestly for this child’s health. Lord Jesus, please let this child grow healthy and strong. Let her grow to term inside me and live a long, healthy life. Please…. The first trimester is such a scary time. Life is tenacious, but these tiny little lives are so very fragile, too. I had seen it among my friends far too many times. Statistically it doesn’t seem likely, but it seemed that most of them had miscarriages between their first and second children. I never, ever wanted to go through that.
Knowing how precarious it can be, I made some effort at first to guard my heart and my emotions and not get ahead of myself. But a new baby is an exciting thing. I decided to think positively. I was really excited to have another child. Being close in age, my daughter would have a playmate. They would learn from each other. I could dress them up to match for Christmas cards that would be really cute until I look at them 20 years later and wonder what I was thinking. I was excited thinking about all the fun ahead.
Then last Friday morning (June 29), a couple of things happened to me physically that made me feel foolish for getting too excited. Nothing certain, but I was reminded again that this was not a for sure thing. On Saturday, I spent most of the day relieved that nothing else “fishy” had happened. Until shortly before I left work, when I discovered some blood….
It wasn’t a lot, so I couldn’t give up all hope, but I knew deep down that this pregnancy was over. I followed directions and put myself on bedrest and tried to stay hydrated. Lots of tears, lots of fervent prayers happened this night. Eventually I was able to sleep, but not very well.
Sunday morning, we stayed home from church. I stayed in bed. The bleeding increased and my hope was pretty much gone. I was in tears, and Pete held on to me saying he was sorry if it was too cruel, but he just couldn’t give up hope until it was confirmed by the doctor.
I wasn’t in pain. I always heard that miscarrying hurts. I was getting some mild cramps, but nowhere near what period cramps are like. If it had been a period, it wouldn’t have been enough to make me reach for any pain killers unless it just reached the point of being annoying. I was tired, so eventually I managed to take a nap. When I woke up from the nap, I got up to pee, and what happened after I finished left no question. I was already exhausted from crying, and I already knew that it was over, so I couldn’t even cry then. In a screwed up sort of way, I kind of felt relieved because there was at least some sense of finality. I showed Pete and that’s when he broke down.
He cried, then I cried too, and he apologized that he wasn’t able to make it til we saw the doctor before he gave up hope. I told him it was ok, I already knew it was over anyway. I could just feel it in my body that the baby was gone.
I hate that we’re going through this, but I can also be thankful that it happened at home, naturally, and with minimal discomfort. An ultrasound on Monday confirmed that it was a complete miscarriage and nothing was left in my uterus, so no complications there. A big fear when this started was that I would inadvertently pass it in the toilet. I know it was barely even an embryo, but it just felt so wrong and irreverent to flush my child I already loved like a goldfish. So I was relieved that this did not happen.
Even after all this, I no longer feel foolish for being excited about my pregnancy. It was definitely something to be excited about. I read some time back when I was pregnant with my daughter to enjoy each pregnancy, no matter how long it lasts. And I am clinging to that. I only had two weeks to enjoy it, so I had to cram a lot into a very short–much too short–amount of time. As with my last pregnancy, I did blog regularly with lots of happy posts that were to remain hidden until we made the good news public. Now, they’ll probably remain hidden forever. No point in publishing them. It would just be emotional whiplash.
Maybe some folks would think I should be mad at God. Or maybe think He doesn’t exist since we prayed so earnestly for a healthy baby, and yet it didn’t happen. Strangely, I think I feel closer to Him because I am experiencing first-hand that He is sovereign. I’m sure there are some life experiences that wouldn’t make me feel this way, but right now, it seems better than any alternative.
We are grieving, but we will be okay. We have the best family and friends we could ever hope for to support us. As Pete and I were discussing tonight, one of the hardest things is that you’ll be going about your business, thinking you’re doing alright, when the emotion comes crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. I suppose, gradually, this will decrease in frequency. I was kind of surprised that I didn’t cry myself to sleep last night, but who knows, maybe I will two months from now? I know I will never stop wondering about this baby and what might have been, but eventually the pain will fade, or at least become less raw.
Once it is physically wise to do so, we will be ready to try again. So with this post, I will once again turn off the lights on this blog and blow the dust off when there is good news once again. I leave you with this post that Pete made on some forums he leads. He didn’t go into specifics there, but I know what was on his heart:
Sunday, July 1, 2012 – John 6:60-69
Quote:
Therefore, when many of His disciples heard this, they said, “This teaching is hard! Who can accept it?” Jesus, knowing in Himself that His disciples were complaining about this, asked them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to observe the Son of Man ascending to where He was before? The Spirit is the One who gives life. The flesh doesn’t help at all. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and are life. But there are some among you who don’t believe.” (For Jesus knew from the beginning those who would not believe and the one who would betray Him.) He said, “This is why I told you that no one can come to Me unless it is granted to him by the Father.”
From that moment many of His disciples turned back and no longer accompanied Him. Therefore Jesus said to the Twelve, “You don’t want to go away too, do you?”
Simon Peter answered, “Lord, who will we go to? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that You are the Holy One of God!”
No matter what tragedy we face, no matter how painful the experiences we endure, no matter how horrible it may be when we find our greatest fears becoming reality, we have nowhere else to turn for true comfort except our Lord Jesus Christ.
Similarly, when we find a difficult passage or lesson in Scripture, we should reply as Peter did–“We have come to believe and know that You are the Holy One of God!”–instead of bending Scripture to our preferences or denying the truth of passages that disturb us.
There are days that we come to Christ in adoration and affection. There are days that we come to Christ because we know we can go nowhere else to fill the deepest longings of our being. Regardless, we are called to come to Christ daily, seeking the words of eternal life.