MISCARRIAGE NUMBER 2

After our loss of Mabel at 6 weeks (you may want to read the story for reference), we were quickly relieved, and a little apprehensive, to find out that we were pregnant again just 3 months later.

I remember not even being able to genuinely show excitement at that pregnant pee stick because I couldn't know for sure that it would be true. I was that crazy lady who called the midwife at 5 weeks pregnant needing to come in and talk and do something, anything, to make sure things were normal this time around. I may have cried a little to the midwife as I explained my anxiety at a recurrent miscarriage. I didn't mean to! It just came out... I think she felt bad for me, so she immediately scheduled an ultrasound at 6 weeks. So I got the ultrasound that I wanted, but the thing with being that early in a pregnancy is that the baby is still the size of a lentil and even on an ultrasound you literally can't see anything. No heartbeat. Not even the form of a gummy bear. Just a yolk sack and nothing more. They assured me the yolk sack was measuring right where it should, so that was slightly reassuring, but I just couldn't shake this feeling that it was going to happen again- that we were going to lose this one too. 

It was a hard first few weeks of pregnancy for me... I found that I had such a fear of losing this baby that it was difficult for me to celebrate that I actually was pregnant. With time, though, (and some encouragement from my sweet husband) I came to realize that even if the worst possible outcome happened, the Lord would still be good and we would still be blessed. So we began to entertain the thought of this sweet baby joining our family. Ben thought for sure she was a girl, so she became known to us (somewhat jokingly) as Little Debbie. We thought fondly of her, and I was finally able to trust that the Lord had good for us and had given her to us as a gift, no matter how the pregnancy turned out. 

At our 12 week appointment, the midwife tried to find a heartbeat on the doppler and was unable to locate it. So she wheeled in the portable ultrasound machine and, again, wasn't able to find a heartbeat. They told us we'd be heading downstairs to do a full ultrasound on the machine that "will get a better picture." At that point I knew I had the right to freak out. I knew what I was going to hear but I still didn't want to believe it and wanted to hold on to some bit of hope. I remember sitting on that table, tears welling in my eyes, and just hearing in my head "let the peace of Christ rule in your heart and mind." It turns out "in mind" isn't actually a part of that verse and the context isn't exactly correct, but it didn't matter at all to me. What I needed was some bit of peace, some reminder that the Lord was good and with me and trustworthy, and that even if the worst possible outcome happened, He was still by my side giving me peace. 

And you guys, I swear I really did feel that. Once I started reciting the need for peace in my head, the tears dried up and I could breathe deep and I really believed it was all going to be ok... no matter what was on that final ultrasound.

So we went downstairs for a "better picture" and sure enough our sweet little Debbie had no heartbeat to be found. Even when we officially got the news, I cried and felt such grief and sadness, but it was like nothing is ever experienced before... It was coupled with the Lord's peace. 

My husband, Ben, and I had just read a story the night before about a man diagnosed with cancer who walked boldly forward in his diagnosis with the peace of the Lord- not fearing death or the worst that could come. I heard that story and thought to myself that I hoped I could respond like that if I ever found myself in a similar situation. And now here I was, the next morning, given the choice to freak out, lash out, curl up, scream loud or whatever else my natural self wanted to do, or choose to press in to the Lord's peace and allow Him to meet me there.

Don't get me wrong. The days and weeks following have been filled with a lot of tears and heartache and grief. But this time around I have something that I didn't have when we miscarried Mabel. 

I have a greater understanding of the Lord's purpose and his desire to be near and present while we're hurting. I don't think I really allowed Him to be that for me before. I have a joy in my heart, even, that my babes are rejoicing in heaven with their Father that's trumps my sadness about not being able to hold them. I'm able to share with friends and family the need for prayer and support because I don't feel nearly as depressed, discouraged and overtaken by the whole experience. And I'm not mad at God... I can believe in His greater good. And believe that He is weaving my story to bring Him glory and make His name great. And in all of that, I have found so much peace in the midst of my sorrow.

We were 12 weeks when we found out we lost our little Debbie. They told us we could schedule a D&C and essentially finish the miscarriage or we could wait. I felt strongly that I wanted to trust the Lord and my body to take care of things naturally, so we decided to wait. So that's where we are now. Waiting, pressing in to the Lord, grieving our loss and enjoying the blessing of our sweet boy and our life around us.