I have been fighting coming back to writing for a long time. My family has nudged me. I think the Lord has nudged me. But writing like I want to— throwing out the raw emotions on my heart— is scary. It isn’t always well received.
We lost a baby today. Actually, according to the ultrasound, we lost it almost two weeks ago. It just took until today for my body to finally get with the program. It is a devastating thing, losing a baby you’re excited about. I had this precious photo of my boys wearing matching “Big Brother” t-shirts. I couldn’t wait to post it on instagram and share our news. Dane was so excited to have “a cute little baby” to play with again. He was calling it Spiderman. We have no idea. He doesn’t even like Spiderman.
At 8 weeks, the baby only measured 6 weeks, but there was a heartbeat and the doctor assured us our dates were just wrong. Our dates were not wrong. In my heart I knew they were not wrong, but we went along and changed our due date and prepared to come back in two weeks for a recheck.
Tevie has only missed one OB appointment- it was a routine late term one with Cooper and I wanted to spend the day Christmas shopping and he did not. On September 4, we decided it was better for him to take the boys to play while I went to the doctor, then we’d head straight for a fun Labor Day weekend away camping. I laid there on that table waiting for that little flicker of a heartbeat. For the tech to say, “Oh! You were right! You are, in fact due March 31 (on my birthday).” Instead, she didn’t say anything. She turned and walked out of the room, and after an eternity (but probably more like 2 minutes), she brought my doctor back in. He placed his hand on my leg and walked me through what we were looking at.
No blood flow. No heartbeat. Our baby was gone.
I spent the weekend questioning it. I mean they could be wrong, right? Sometimes they screw up stuff like this. We decided to let my body deliver it naturally, instead of scheduling a D&C.
For the last 48 hours or so I have been in labor. It’s not period cramping, it’s contractions. The kind of pain that ibuprofen won’t touch because it hurts too deeply, on too many levels. I have begged for it to be over. As fast as possible, Lord, let it be done. And this morning, as quickly as it came on, it was over. The pain is gone and I’m not pregnant anymore. Five years ago today my parents’ lost their home to a devastating fire. Today I miscarried what should have been my third sweet baby. I think we’re going to skip September 16 from now on.
I got pregnant with Cooper in May 2013 and didn’t wean him until about 6-7 weeks into this pregnancy. My body has been sustaining another life for over two years and now I have no idea what to do with myself. Do I even own a bra that doesn’t have nursing snaps? Am I actually allowed to have an afternoon cup of coffee without fear of over-caffeinating someone? You mean I can have more than one beer AT A TIME. It feels so strange.
In our time of sorrow and weakness, our friends, family and church family have stepped in and fed us, physically and spiritually. They really are Acts 2 in action. It is community and brotherhood exactly the way God meant for it to be.
I have been hopelessly out of the Word in recent months. I claim to be busy. Motherhood is loud and requires all of your mental energy as soon as their tiny feet come racing down the hallway each morning. I stuff in a verse or devo here and there, and trust that the Word is Alive and is taking root, but I’m not digging in and being fed. And, while I DO NOT BELIEVE FOR ONE MINUTE that it was the Lord’s will for us to lose this baby, I do believe that He works ALL THINGS for Good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28), and this is a perfect example of that.
In sadness, I run to the Word. And the first place I opened to earlier this week was Psalm 34.
(9)Hear the LORD, you his godly people,for those who fear him will have all they need.(10) Even strong young lions sometimes go hungry,but those who trust in the LORD will lack no good thing.
And I sat there sobbing at my kitchen table. “BUT I AM LACKING A GOOD THING, LORD. A very good thing.” Verse 18 says:
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted;he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. (19) The righteous person faces many troubles,but the LORD comes to the rescue each time.
The Word is alive. It convicts and heals. He binds up our wounds each time. Praise Him for that.
I’ve also reread Psalm 139 about a million times.
(13)You made all the delicate, inner parts of my bodyand knit me together in my mother’s womb.(14)Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.(15)You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.(16)You saw me before I was born.Every day of my life was recorded in your book.Every moment was laid outbefore a single day had passed.
I am sobbing again as I read that again. Every moment was laid out. This baby never knew one moment of life outside of the presence of God. How incredibly beautiful is that? How much peace and comfort in a time when I want to scream out loud in frustration over the unfairness of it all.
If you know someone mourning through a miscarriage, say something to them. Tell them you’re sorry. Hug their sweet necks. Bring them food, because that mama just endured labor and there was no fat little baby to hold at the end of those painful contractions. We don’t talk about it because it’s sad. It’s awkward because if you’ve never walked through it, you kind of can’t see what the big deal is. I mean, they didn’t know the sex, they already have two kids, she was only 10 weeks along, etc. But those were 10 weeks spent dreaming of names and mentally rearranging your three bedroom house to fit three kids and a guest room for your out of town family. The gender was never determined, but you dreamed it was a little boy and that he wore a striped onesie and little soft grey pants home from the hospital... and that you named him Everett and he had fuzzy brown hair like his brothers did at birth.
Thankfully, there is JOY in the morning and we serve a Great God. As we pray for and pray over pregnancies in our families, we can rejoice WHOLEHEARTEDLY with them because we know the blessing each little baby is, to their parents, to the Kingdom, and to the Lord, because He has knit them together with a great purpose.