Continued – I woke up February 15 feeling more broken than I ever had before. I’d never known such grief. My heart had never hurt like this before. It was as if all of the joy in my life could not be felt that day. I couldn’t see an ounce of good. My body ached. I felt so weak, and dare I say, DEFEATED. I stayed in bed all day surrounded by my girls playing Barbies for hours on end on the floor next to me. My husband worked from home, stayed strong, took care of everything, and constantly checked on me.
The last several months we had been through some not so great stuff. Remember my post “When the Devil Attacks“… well, he hadn’t quit attacking. We weren’t continually suffering (and I admit it all could’ve been way worse), but it definitely felt like we couldn’t catch a break. For me, losing this baby was the most rotten cherry on top of a very trying period. The Lord had been testing us. I knew he was. We had continued to seek him, get involved in church, pay our tithe, fast and pray, and give to others. Our faith never wavered. Although some cruddy things had happened, the Lord continually took care of all our needs. I’m not sharing this to brag. I’m sharing because I want you to know that having a strong faith in Jesus and trying to serve Him as best as you can doesn’t mean your life will be easy. But, I believe whole heartedly that it does mean that He will take care of you. It might not be in this cookie cutter way that you think He should, but He will be on your side, He will provide you a place of rest, He will lift you up when you are unable, He will walk with you through the valley, and He will never leave you even on your darkest days.
February 15th was my darkest day. Every time that I thought I was doing okay, it would hit me again. I didn’t know a person could cry so much. I’m not sharing this for pity, but if I can help one person walk through their pain, I would feel like part of my suffering was worth it. I didn’t know it would hurt this bad to lose a baby that early. I only thought I was 9 weeks and 1 day, remember?! It was still a life, a human life that had so much value.
February 16th, we went back to the hospital for more bloodwork. If baby was thriving, my hormone levels were supposed to almost double in 48 hours. I tried my best to have a normal day. Anthony and I took the girls to the National Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola. Getting out took my mind off of what was going on, and focused it on what was in front of me. We had a pretty good day. I would walk and sit, and sit and walk feeling too weak to go for too long. The waiting was so hard. I was trying desperately to hold on to a little bit of hope that this baby was okay. Maybe, just maybe I wasn’t as far along as I had thought. I also felt like I was on pins and needles holding my breath until I would suddenly miscarry. After all, it had already been 3.5 weeks since they thought the baby quit growing. My dad was in town and we met him for dinner. I think his positive presence helped me to get up and focus on all the blessings in my life. He knew I’d come out stronger even when I wasn’t sure.
Sunday, we went to church as usual. I wanted to hold it all together especially because nobody knew what was going on. As the worship music played, I could barely move my lips. Tears continually rolled down my face, and it took all that I had to stand. I was wrestling with God. I was having full on, deep, ugly emotions and giving them straight to Him. “Why, God? What else has to happen to show you that I trust you? How big does my faith have to be?” Presley had even said to me, “Doesn’t Jesus know that we trust Him by now?” I am NOT a perfect Christian. I do NOT have it all together. I fail daily, but my faith is big and even with big faith I still struggle. If you are struggling with something right now, don’t count yourself out. Get mad at God, share your struggles with Him, and ask Him to heal your heart and circumstances like only He can do. I was so broken, but I knew that He could restore me. I just wasn’t sure how long it would take.
Monday morning rolled around, and I received a call from the nurse sharing that my hormones were still rising, but not as significantly as they should be. I thought that call would give me some sort of peace. I thought it would give me a definitive answer, but it didn’t. I couldn’t take the waiting until my scheduled follow up sonogram on Thursday. I was drained mentally, emotionally, physically, and even spiritually. We moved the appointment up to the next day.
The next morning, we went in to Pensacola. I had mentioned to Anthony that I wanted to do something crazy… which is not like me, so in typical hairdresser fashion that meant bleaching my hair back to blonde. Anthony had been taking such good care of me and all of my usual duties then he went above and beyond and found me an amazing hairdresser. In the silliest of ways, this appointment made me feel just a little bit better. I knew it was going to be a hard day.
At the doctors’ appointment, our heartache was confirmed. Our baby was no longer living. He/she didn’t have a heartbeat and had not grown… even measuring 2 days smaller than before. With much discussion over the last several days, I made the difficult decision to go ahead with a D&C. I mentioned in part 1 that I am extremely pro-life (and I’m not here to argue on the topic). It felt almost dirty to do a D&C like I was discarding my baby… this little person that I already loved so much. I knew that it was the right decision for me and my circumstances, but the feelings were still there. This may be hard to understand if you haven’t been through this, but waiting for my baby to one day miscarry in the next month or so was not something I could handle. We scheduled the surgery for Friday morning and left the office.
In some sort of weird way, I felt relief after that appointment. I felt like I could breathe just a little bit easier. I think because the waiting was almost over. After all, this baby had been sitting in my belly no longer alive for almost a month now. I thought and felt things that I never that I would and certainly didn’t think I would ever feel comfortable sharing. I’m not ashamed though because I think 1 in 4 women are suffering through similar thoughts and emotions.
After we left the doctor, we headed back towards home on one of the darkest and cloudiest days. The wind was strong and cold. The weather in some ways reflected what we were going through. My husband took a detour and pulled us into Navarre Beach. There is something about the beach that brings such a calmness to me. I can feel God’s presence just a little bit greater, and boy, did I need to feel it. If you look back at my Instagram feed or Facebook page, I included small comments about being down, but I was mostly the same old me. It wasn’t me being fake. It was me living this in private. I’m sharing that to say… You never know what somebody is going through even the person with the biggest smile on their face, so be kind to the slow lady in the drive through, bite your tongue when someone steals your parking space, compliment the slowest checker you’ve experienced in your life, and hug the girl at church, school, or work that seems to have it all together.
We didn’t know a lot of people very well down here in Florida, so my mom immediately offered to fly in to take care of the girls while we went to the hospital and while I recovered from the procedure (as my dad had to leave). This was one of the biggest blessings of all to me as that took any worry off my husband and I as we went to the hospital. The next couple of days I tried to stay distracted and focus on loving my kids, finally asking how my husband was, and picking my mom up from the airport.
Friday morning, we got up and left for the hospital by 6:30am. I couldn’t wear makeup, nail polish, jewelry, etc. I didn’t care, but it felt like I was stripped bare kind of like my emotions. I wasn’t “in the raw”. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, and mentally I was brought to a point of baring all. I couldn’t hide behind a new lipstick, fresh mani, or shiny necklace with my girls’ names. It was just me and Jesus that morning. He give me a literal “peace that surpasses all understanding.” As we sat in the waiting room, Anthony asked a few times how I was or what I was thinking. To his surprise, I answered the same everything time, “I’m fine although I wish they’d stop having food commercials on the tv because I’m really hungry.” That was an honest answer.
The nurse finally called my name and took back where I given two gowns and was officially BARING ALL! I’ve never been to a hospital before where everyone was so kind and thoughtful. Over and over, I was asked about my boring history and every time I included how this wasn’t wanted. Remember how I said I felt in the weirdest way like I was discarding my child?! I wanted everyone to know that this child was with every part of my being WANTED!
I told my sweet baby one last time how much I loved them and they rolled me back.
“For I know the plan I have for you declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.”
I didn’t know what my future held, but I knew who was holding it.
To be continued…
Come back tomorrow as I share my recovery, the name of our baby, and celebrate his/her LIFE!