I have been slightly hesitating to write this post...because this is probably the hardest in my journey. I am unsure of how this will be received, but please know that I am not looking for attention. I am not looking for sympathy. I am looking to do the will and the works of my Father. I am looking to help in any way...in the healing and restoration of a wounded heart.
I told you about my first miscarriage in 2001. Now we are onto pregnancy number two. We were not told to wait to conceive again, so we decided to try again quickly after our loss. It took no time at all until that pregnancy test read positive again. Again...we called the doctor right away. Tests were done to confirm. Appointments were made. Sonograms scheduled. We were slightly hesitant to fall head over heals again. As I said before, our innocence that all would be well with pregnancies, was tainted. We had been hurt. We had looked upon with sorrow. We had been shattered. Now this was our chance to gain some hope.
The first sonogram went well. The blessed heartbeat. It was there, visable to our eyes. The little gray blob that was our baby...we had proof. Some relief swept over us. We started to tell some family. As more time passed, we began to spread the news more and more. We began to have more hope, more excitement...and to fall more in love with this baby God had blessed us with.
One day, at 16weeks of pregnacy...our fear came true. Complications. We rushed to the doctor, who sent us right to the hospital to have a sonogram. They were very busy that day. But they fit us in. The sonogram technician was sweet. She did the test, and quietly left the room. Soon, we were taken to a room and my doctor came to see what the sonogram technician had seen. Again, not much was spoken. I returned to my clothes, and waited alone...but with my husband. Our wonderful, born-again doctor entered to tell us her news. They could find no heartbeat. Innocence stolen! When measuring the baby, it measured only 11 weeks. For almost 5 weeks, the baby had ceased to live and grow. I was supposed to be 'past' that time of worry. The first trimester was over...or so I thought. As you can imagine...I burst into tears. My husband stayed strong. Not letting much emotion take over him. Just purely concerned about his broken wife.
At this time I worked in the hospital I was now sitting in. I was told that I would have to have a D & C procedure done. Inside, I was dreading this! It made it all final. I was going to be exposed to the people that I worked with daily. I was going to have to go through many more sorrowful looks...and awkward silences. "God, if this was the fate of my baby...why did it have to last this long? Now, I have a whole other awkwardness that I must face. Isn't there another way?" Those are the words that ran through my head.
So, we tried our best to resume our life as normal until the procedure was to happen. We had planned to have company over for a Christmas dinner that night. We ate. We exchanged gifts. We tried to put on the face that we weren't completely shattered. While the guys went outside for a few minutes...I started to realize that something was going very wrong. I was having major cramping in my stomach. (Having never felt these before...I had no idea what was going on.) I felt some major pressure...and knew that if I stood up...some sort of fluid was going to rush out. (Sorry about the details. But it is all part of the process.)
It didn't feel like I was about to pee myself...but I was scared about what was happening. This was not part of the plan. As I ran to the bathroom...there it all was. Clear fluid. I changed my clothes and went back out to the living room. In walked more company...and soon the feeling came back. I sat very uncomfortably...not wanting to get up while they were there. Not wanting to ask them to leave. They must have sensed my discomfort...and left shortly after they had arrived. I told Eric what was happening...and I ran to the bathroom again. This time...it was not clear. Deep red surrounded me. I had no control over it. Just as suddenly as it had begun...it stopped. In my heart I knew what had made it stop. I knew that it must be removed...and I could not bring myself to do it.
Now, on the phone with my doctor, we explained what had happened. Then she said what I knew she would. I had to know what caused it to stop. The next moments in my life...I thought would haunt me forever. I was now holding a tiny baby in my hand. Tears errupted as I told my doctor what I had found. A lifeless body. A body that fit in the palm of my hand. Who's arms and legs were like spaghetti. She expressed her sorrow. She prayed. And she told me to bring myself and my baby to the ER right away. What now? What should I put baby in? I couldn't hold it. I didn't want anyone else to see it.
I arrived at the hostpital and went through more traumatic events. Finally, after a modified surgercial procedure, a very painful IV, and much cleaning up...I found myself shaking beyond normal. I was freezing, and couldn't stop involuntarily shaking. The doctor said that my body was going through shock from all that had just happened, and the amount of blood that I had lost. I soon found myself in a new hospital room, with my husband by my side. Waiting to do or get whatever I needed. Everytime I woke up, he was there asking if I needed anything. He was my rock. He was my comfort. Still strong.
The next few months were awful. So many people had to be told. So many uncomfortable moments that I wanted to be over. My husband who was strong for me when I needed it...eventually broke down. It was God's timing that I was in a place that I could be his strength. I could help him through his anger for another baby lost.
The events of that night haunted me until...someone shed God's light on it. I told her about seeing my baby...and how much I wanted to forget it. Her response..."That is awesome! God allowed you to hold your baby boy!" Isaiah Ethan was his name, born December 20th, 2001. And I no longer have to see him through tears of regret.
Our next pregnancy would come YEARS later. We had to wait one year to try to conceive again because of the type of miscarriage I had experienced. There was a chance that a cancerous tumor would form in either my lungs or brain. And for a year I had to get blood tests done to make sure I was not cancerous. The test, was the same test they do to check for pregnancy. More awkward conversations. As each time, a different person thought that I was checking for pregnancy. They were hopeful...and I was still hurting.
So many thoughts went through my head. Was this my fault? Did I do something wrong? Why did God allow a baby to be taken away from the only two people that had already learned to love him? But what I will never forget was God's promise to me! It came from the voice of a friend. And it was the number one thing that brought me through the next few years of my life. "God told me that you will have a baby. That you will carry it through to full-term."
Relief. Now, I know it will happen. I just have to wait for the right time. God was with me. God took care of me. God was watching over my two babies, in my place. What more could I ask for them?
God is good. I don't want anyone to doubt that! I have proof that God fulfilled His promise to me. I have stories to tell. And I have prayers that I long to write for women that are in a place of sorrow right now. Don't blame the only One that longs to heal your shattered heart. He is ready and waiting for you to call on Him. He never meant for you to try to handle it on your own. He loves you...and He will make you whole again. He will take what the enemy meant for evil...and He will restore it to work into His purpose for your life. Promise!
Words have power. Written words provide proof. You can read them, and reread them whenever you want. They can speak life to someone who needs encouragement. They can speak death to someone who is being deceived. The choice lies within you. How is it that you want people to remember you? Encourager...that is the gift that God has laid on my heart. To use my written, spoken, and/or sung words to lift people up. To be one link in their road to healing, restoration, joy. I have been without those things, and I claim them to be mine again. If you want me to seek God on a prayer for a specific situation...that is why I am here. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to pray God's Word of Life over you.