This post was originally drafted on September 23, 2015
I'm pregnant. It's true. Approximately 17 weeks, and increasingly unable to keep it a secret. I'm excited, scared, tired, anxious, overwhelmed, anticipating, curious, and feeling very vulnerable. This child growing in my has stirred many feelings and I'm so excited to meet it, but I do feel the need to attempt to bring closure before moving forward.
Less than 1 year ago we lost another baby. I was 11 weeks pregnant when I miscarried, but we lived an emotional 5 weeks before the end of our baby's life was confirmed. It was terrible, and even though I'm pregnant now, in many ways I'm still recovering from our loss.
This time last fall I was still in the blissful, innocent stage of pregnancy. Feeling like a walking nausea bomb, but excited about adding a new little one to our family. As your children get older, you realize that when you become pregnant and have a baby, it.never.leaves. While that concept is exhausting most days, it is also so very exciting. A new member of our family. Sigh. What will they be like? Will they be quiet and reserved, a deep thinker? Or will they carry strong convictions, be bold and filled with every impulse imaginable? Will they have physical features that resemble me, or my husband (we're a bit of the 'opposites attract', if you will)? What kind of difference will they make in this world? Wow...they are going to be my child. What an honor.
I have vivid memories of milestones from last fall. September, still being in shock that we were expecting again, letting it sink in fully. Early October, telling a few choice friends at the Hawkeye Homecoming Parade, mostly because the fatigue and overwhelming nausea couldn't be hidden. Even our family pictures from last fall hold a sting, I was pregnant in those pictures. And then mid October, hearing my son ask my husband to check on me because I was crying in the shower. I was only 6 weeks and had started bleeding.
The ultrasound that followed showed a sweet little one with a strong heartbeat, but an irregular yolk sac. Our doctor was hopeful, and even said she didn't want to scare us but said 'this is what I see'. A quick google search revealed an irregular yolk sac can mean chromosomal abnormalities, but can also result in a perfectly healthy pregnancy. We held our breath and clung to the Lord. I reminded myself of His Truth and steadfast love. We had been through this before, twice. That didn't make it easier, and in some ways heightened the fears. This was a reality for us, one that we prayed to never re-live. The bleeding got worse, a lot worse. So bad that I had another ultrasound at 8 weeks. Again, there was a strong little one with a steady heartbeat, but this time the ultrasound revealed a sub-chorionic hematoma...essentially a blood clot had formed between the placenta and the uterus. This can resolve itself, or cause miscarriage, along with many other complications.
At this point we were exhausted. Physically, but also emotionally. A part of us wanted to just know. Will we meet this little one some day or not? If not, when and how will I lose our baby? The physical toll it took on my body limited me and was very humbling.
This continued until the night of November 13. I will not post the details here,as they are graphic, but please know I'm willing to talk about it if it would help you in your journey. I will tell you as I held our baby in my hand I understood the grief that leads to 'tearing of sack cloth and covering your head with ashes'. It was awful, and is still overwhelming at times. My child was no more, yet so very perfect for it's gestation. (We actually believe that it passed away around 9 1/2 weeks, as it had fingers but the toes had not formed yet.)
As the tears waned and my composure regained over the next few days I began to see the Lord's hand in the details. Yes, God had allowed our child to pass away, but he had not left our side. One of my greatest fears was miscarrying while I was home alone with the boys. This fear was valid, especially after finally miscarrying and realizing it would have been more than traumatic for them. Not only did it happen when Jason was home, but the boys were in bed. We want to tell our entire story to our children someday, but also feel like there are lots of parts of it that are even hard for us as adults to grasp. We will tell them someday, but when they were 6, 4 1/2 and 2 1/2 wasn't the time.
A week or two earlier my doctor had offered to do weekly ultrasounds, that way if the baby passed we could do a D & C. I love my doctor, she knew that the prospects weren't good, but left it at that. I kindly declined, I had already surrendered this child's life to the Lord and knew an ultrasound would not change anything. I have nothing against a D & C, and am continually thankful for modern medicine. That being said, as traumatic as miscarrying at home was, it allowed us to process our grief in a way I so very needed, by burying this child beside their sibling that we lost to miscarriage in 2007.
I hate that we've buried 2 babies,and have experienced a total of 3 miscarriages. I hate that the pond, and growing forest that surrounds it, on my parent's farm was built to bear fun memories of grandchildren and now holds 2 of them beneath the soil. I hate that this is my THING, the thing that brings unwarranted tears and occasional anger.
As the year has turned and days have passed my grief is less palpable, but still very real when it does arise. I do see God's goodness in all of this. I see how He has, and will continue, to use my broken heart to minister to others as they grieve the loss of their baby. I see how He has used it to draw me closer to Him in ways I would have never been forced to do so before. He has shown me His steadfast love and I've surrendered to His sovereignty on a whole new level.
This pregnancy has progressed without any complications and we have no plausible reason to worry. For that I'm thankful. That being said, I have fought bouts of worry and even mild anxiety over whether or not we will get to bring this baby home, happy and healthy. .
As I have grown (we're talking girth here, not intellectually or emotionally) I have felt vulnerable in a way that I despise. It feels like I am letting others into a deep, private part of me that I just want to be ours. It's not that I'm not excited, but I do feel very vulnerable. It's hard to walk the line most days. On the outside I appear even keeled, but inside there are so many emotions I am feeling.
I'm afraid to tell you I'm pregnant because I'm afraid of sharing all of me. I don't want to share my joy with you, in fear that if the sorrow comes you won't share it with me.
I'm sure this all reads as deep, fuzzy, heavy, and overthought. It is, but it's also all true, and while I don't want to dwell on it, I do want to remember...so that I don't forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment