In my last post I shared that I was hoping to miscarry our baby naturally. Unfortunately, things did not work out that way. Fortunately, I am healthy and able to begin moving forward, giving thanks for the husband and five beautiful children I get to hold every day.
I now have such a better understanding of why doctors often recommend a D&C rather quickly. My nearly week-long ordeal included not only a D&C, but also an ambulance ride to the ER. Not fun.
I wouldn't change my wait, though. I knew going into this that I needed extra time to process everything that was happening to me -- physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Experiencing the changes in my body as everything progressed made the loss easier for me to accept than if I had walked into the hospital pregnant (but having just learned I did not have a live baby), and left not pregnant. I will never forget how I struggled with that after losing our son at 21 weeks. Everything happened so quickly, I would sometimes wonder later if I had actually been pregnant.
This song, "Worn" by Tenth Avenue North, really resonated with me last week. For some reason, my 10-year-old began playing it over and over, just at a time when I think I needed to hear it.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
On loss, trust, and healing
Yesterday an ultrasound showed us, without a doubt, that our baby is no longer alive.
It was heartbreaking, but not completely unexpected, since in addition to earlier concerns expressed by my doctor, my body had begun giving me signs that this was probably the case.
I don't really have words to express how I feel right now. It seems better to stay quiet.
After all, this is still a time of waiting. I am hoping to miscarry naturally.
I have known about this baby for about five weeks now. And during that time, I have had more blood tests and ultrasounds than I have had with any other pregnancy at this point. For a while, I was upset that I had to be subjected to all of that. Some of it, especially the six-week ultrasound, seemed to merely add stress to the very little time I had to enjoy this pregnancy. But some of it, like the five week ultrasound (in which I got to see a perfect-looking five-week pregnancy, including a small fetus), brought beautiful moments of pure joy, and of falling in love.
So I guess I can't begrudge the tests completely, because they have given me a pretty clear timeline of how our little one's life progressed. While it would have been nice to enjoy the full eight weeks without worry, it also is a gift to have some details to match up to our baby's brief life. The pain of an empty uterus at eight weeks certainly is softened by the knowledge that a baby did once live there. I saw it -- twice. Without those images, I always would have wondered what had been. So the interventions, while exhausting, also have helped bring me peace. I know most people don't have a history of numbers and pictures to trace the life of an eight-week pregnancy. I wouldn't either, if it weren't for my earlier loss that compels me to check my progesterone, and for concerns that led us to confirm this was not an ectopic pregnancy.
This pregnancy also has led me think about suffering. About how God can use our joy and our pain -- our everything -- for good. I have no doubt that this small life was not brought into the world without reason. Because of the timing of some things, I may even have a couple inklings as to what some of those reasons are. But thankfully, God's understanding is much bigger than mine. And His ability to connect strings in this beautiful tapestry of our lives is far beyond my imagining.
I do know that whatever purpose this small life served, it could not have been achieved if my husband and I were not open to receiving this life. And that makes me grateful.
I also have thought a lot about the quote by Mother Teresa that our family read the day we learned of this pregnancy: "Prayer unites us with Christ. Simply open your hearts to him. Also, simply accept what he sends you. With a big smile, generously give him what he asks of you. God will do the rest, never fear."
At the time, it seemed He was sending us a new baby -- a big change, yes, but definitely something we could accept with a smile. Now I know He was sending us life, and a loss. We also must learn to accept this with a smile. This is not possible without prayer -- but it is possible. Not to be smiling at every moment -- that would not be human. But to have a trust deep in our hearts, even at the moment our worst fears are confirmed, that He is at work for our good, that He loves us and will never let us go.
God has been challenging my husband and myself to grow in trust lately.
Apparently when God calls us to trust, He means -- even in the face of losing the thing we most desire.
And yet, just as I wrote the above line, my phone rang It was a friend calling from Lourdes. She prayed for me there yesterday, got my email about the baby last night, and wanted to reach out to me this morning.
When I asked her if she is experiencing healing from some difficult experiences, she said yes, but she added that she is not really on this trip to seek healing; rather, she is there to give thanks to the Lord and our Blessed Mother for seeing her through her darkest times. She is there to praise God for health that has been restored to her family.
It seems so fitting to conclude with this. Yes, our God sometimes allows sad things, even times of darkness it seems we will never get through. But He is a God of light, and He walks with us! He will lead us beside still waters, and restore our souls (Ps 23).
He will hold us in His hands -- in His hands that made the world.
It was heartbreaking, but not completely unexpected, since in addition to earlier concerns expressed by my doctor, my body had begun giving me signs that this was probably the case.
I don't really have words to express how I feel right now. It seems better to stay quiet.
After all, this is still a time of waiting. I am hoping to miscarry naturally.
I have known about this baby for about five weeks now. And during that time, I have had more blood tests and ultrasounds than I have had with any other pregnancy at this point. For a while, I was upset that I had to be subjected to all of that. Some of it, especially the six-week ultrasound, seemed to merely add stress to the very little time I had to enjoy this pregnancy. But some of it, like the five week ultrasound (in which I got to see a perfect-looking five-week pregnancy, including a small fetus), brought beautiful moments of pure joy, and of falling in love.
So I guess I can't begrudge the tests completely, because they have given me a pretty clear timeline of how our little one's life progressed. While it would have been nice to enjoy the full eight weeks without worry, it also is a gift to have some details to match up to our baby's brief life. The pain of an empty uterus at eight weeks certainly is softened by the knowledge that a baby did once live there. I saw it -- twice. Without those images, I always would have wondered what had been. So the interventions, while exhausting, also have helped bring me peace. I know most people don't have a history of numbers and pictures to trace the life of an eight-week pregnancy. I wouldn't either, if it weren't for my earlier loss that compels me to check my progesterone, and for concerns that led us to confirm this was not an ectopic pregnancy.
This pregnancy also has led me think about suffering. About how God can use our joy and our pain -- our everything -- for good. I have no doubt that this small life was not brought into the world without reason. Because of the timing of some things, I may even have a couple inklings as to what some of those reasons are. But thankfully, God's understanding is much bigger than mine. And His ability to connect strings in this beautiful tapestry of our lives is far beyond my imagining.
I do know that whatever purpose this small life served, it could not have been achieved if my husband and I were not open to receiving this life. And that makes me grateful.
I also have thought a lot about the quote by Mother Teresa that our family read the day we learned of this pregnancy: "Prayer unites us with Christ. Simply open your hearts to him. Also, simply accept what he sends you. With a big smile, generously give him what he asks of you. God will do the rest, never fear."
At the time, it seemed He was sending us a new baby -- a big change, yes, but definitely something we could accept with a smile. Now I know He was sending us life, and a loss. We also must learn to accept this with a smile. This is not possible without prayer -- but it is possible. Not to be smiling at every moment -- that would not be human. But to have a trust deep in our hearts, even at the moment our worst fears are confirmed, that He is at work for our good, that He loves us and will never let us go.
God has been challenging my husband and myself to grow in trust lately.
Apparently when God calls us to trust, He means -- even in the face of losing the thing we most desire.
And yet, just as I wrote the above line, my phone rang It was a friend calling from Lourdes. She prayed for me there yesterday, got my email about the baby last night, and wanted to reach out to me this morning.
When I asked her if she is experiencing healing from some difficult experiences, she said yes, but she added that she is not really on this trip to seek healing; rather, she is there to give thanks to the Lord and our Blessed Mother for seeing her through her darkest times. She is there to praise God for health that has been restored to her family.
It seems so fitting to conclude with this. Yes, our God sometimes allows sad things, even times of darkness it seems we will never get through. But He is a God of light, and He walks with us! He will lead us beside still waters, and restore our souls (Ps 23).
He will hold us in His hands -- in His hands that made the world.
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