That Day

I'm not sure how to begin this post.

A couple weeks ago, at 15 weeks, we lost our baby.

Growing older is a bit sobering.  Lately, especially in the past couple of years, I've been viewing life from a slightly different lens.  I firmly believe God is sovereign over all things, that "all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."  In my more youthful days, the everyday pain and trials of life seemed very far off.  You don't sit and worry about your health when you're 25.  You don't worry about the fact that you may be the 1%, that something at some point might happen unexpectedly that might change your life forever.  My very close friend found out she had cancer when she was 36.  I held my babies and cried with her from afar.  I thought about that day.  That day which starts out normal and then ends with something like a cancer diagnosis.  And I've sat and wondered how I will handle that day when it came.

[Before you read the rest, read this ***]

My day went like this.  It was a Thursday.  I woke up nauseated, like I had every morning for at least two months.  I choked down some breakfast.  But I felt grateful that my mornings weren't as bad as they were a couple of weeks ago.  Mornings were always the worst, and now they were tolerable.  I didn't have to eat three breakfasts to not throw up, only two.  Asher broke his arm on Monday.  Chris took him to the orthopedist to find out whether or not he needed surgery.  I got a text that he didn't.  He would just need a six-week cast.  Praise the Lord.  Really.  Who wants your kid to have surgery?

I was looking forward to some girl time that night.  I'd been in my house nauseated and was feeling lonely, and was thinking about a nice, hot meal on a chilly night in the company of girlfriends who I had known for over a decade.

It was a routine appointment at 3:00.  I didn't want to get a babysitter.  It's just not how I wanted to spend $30.  So I brought the kids with me.  We had already heard the heart beat twice.  In past pregnancies, I had always brought my kids to the appointments.  I didn't for the first three appointments in this pregnancy just in case something was wrong.  But we were in the clear now.  And I was still feeling so sick.  Even at 15 weeks.  So I expected nothing eventful.  Except weight gain, because I felt huge already.

I dropped off Asher and Samuel at Chris's office, so I wouldn't have quite so many kids at the appointment.  We stopped on the way to get me a snack and a Sonic happy hour drink.  I usually wait awhile at my doctor, and I knew I would need food while I waited.  She's wonderful so she has a lot of people who want to see her.  I don't mind waiting.  And there's a movie playing for the kids.  I ate my SmartFood (popcorn) and Diet Cherry Coke while the kids watched Despicable Me and drank their slushes.  Pregnant women came in and out.  I remember feeling proud and confident.  I was sporting a cute belly.  We were finally over this miscarriage thing, and continuing our family. 

They called my name.  Graham chose to stay and finish the movie.  Joseph and Nathan were excited to hear the baby's beating heart.  So we walked back.  I got on the scale.  I had gained 10 pounds.  Yikes. I laughed and told the nurse that I always do this.  Gain my weight up front and then slim down at the end.  She got the doppler out and I laid down on the little bed.  Nathan said in his cute and already impatient voice, "I want to hear the baby make a noise."

To be continued...

[***In writing this, I fully realize there are a lot of people who have deeper problems going on in their life than I do.  I know my life will throw me greater curves than this; this is only the beginning of a long line of things that will be hard... "In this world you will have trouble."  I know I have five blessings in Graham, Asher, Samuel, Joseph, and Nathan.  I know this trial is not the end of the world.  But that doesn't mean that I'm not deeply grieving.  I'm writing this because I feel such loss.  I'm writing this to validate others' losses.  I'm writing this because I believe this tiny life matters to God.  I'm writing this as a part of our family's history.  I'm writing this because I didn't know miscarriage was so difficult to experience until I had one. ]