Thoughts on Miscarriage...

 

Whoa, I know, lots of posts in a row.

 

But I just wanted to share what makes Baby Boy such an amazing blessing to us at this time. It's really personal, and pretty much the first time I've shared. But it seems so right...

 

In the Summer of 2011, after a 3rd ultrasound in my first trimester, we went through the motions that accompany one of the worst words in the language: miscarriage.

 

I remember holding it together during the ultrasound, but losing it entirely in the restroom off the ultrasound room. Keith was there, and luckily Cose was at home with a sitter. We knew when we went to that appointment that the news would probably be bad. Just...didn't want to see it and hear it for sure. Didn't want it complete.

 

How are you supposed to feel when you miscarry so early? Are you supposed to grieve? There's no person to hold and whisper goodbye to and bury. No pictures, no memories of firsts. No one else knew about this precious life but the 2 adults who had already dreamed about its life, name, face, and special place in the family.

 

We were sitting in the OB's office, and of course is was grey and rain was falling like sheets down the outside window. The OB, well practiced in this sort of news, tried to encourage us with words like "blighted ovum" and "was never there." No real loss, right?

 

But I'm the mom, and there was something there. I had life in me, embedded into me, telling my body to prepare a place for our new child for the next 9 months. And then something happened and our baby stopped growing. Our baby was so small that ultrasound couldn't really detect it for sure. So small that we never saw a confirmational heartbeat. But I was that child's mom, and I knew its presence.

 

And I already loved it. That's the hardest part.

 

Our child was going to be my January baby, due right at the beginning of 2012. 18 months apart from Cosette. Just like I wanted our kids to be.

 

I chose to forgo the D&C and just let my body take care of things the way it knew how to do. That seemed more healing to me. I actually had the miscarriage on July 4...hard to forget. And then...just...nothing.

 

There's an extreme emptiness that accompanies miscarriage. Partially because I don't think we know how to grieve, partially because it was my body that seemed to have betrayed me and my child (and the word miscarriage really doesn't help with this), partially because it was a very personal, quiet loss.

 

Acquaintences would joke about when we were going to pop out baby #2. Um, well, baby #2 was here and gone already, thanks for asking. You guys should think about having another one so close to Cosette...it's fun! Oh, okay, that's a great idea. Wait, we tried that and lost him. And now we won't have kids as close in age. And we don't have our baby.

Friends would say the wrong things: At least you never saw its heartbeat. You know, it probably would have had a lot of genetic problems. But that's my baby; it was alive, and I loved it regardless of how perfectly not-normal it would be. At least you didn't lose it after it was born. That's true, thank you Lord, for that must be a loss as dark and deep as black itself; but still, I feel pain.

 

It was almost exactly a year between this loss and the beginning of Parker's life. The wait was, well, horrendous, but I couldn't bear to conceive again during the time I would have been pregnant. Something about that really terrified me, like I was betraying that child's life to replace it with a life that never would have been if our miscarried baby would have lived.

Keith & I also made a big life-change and decided it would work for me to go back to school so that I could do what I wanted to do in Speech Pathology. So instead of having our second child in the new year, I kicked off 2012 back in the classroom at KU. That didn't really jive with getting pregnant again.

But still. Like I said, emptiness and darkness accompany miscarriage, strange, unphrased thoughts that exist more as feelings than words.

 

 I was myself for the most part, but with a secret inner piece missing. It would flare up at times and would feel like nothing was right in the world. Then it would retreat to the darkness and let me be for a while. I regret that I didn't allow the Lord's peace to fill me during much of this time. I tried to bear it on my own. Not even Keith could fully understand the pain.

 

But then Parker came to be, and I felt my soul restored by the Lord. No more missing pieces inside me. Yes, a loss our little family will always remember and reflect, but somehow I was whole again though we were missing our little baby.

Waiting through the early weeks of this pregnancy was very difficult. For the most part I didn't believe I was pregnant. And walking into the 9-week ultrasound, knowing that either my greatest happiness or deepest pain would be satisfied, that was tough.

(Click here to hear the song that the Lord encouraged me with the entire drive to the ultrasound and during the first few minutes of it.)

 

Parker's life has brought me healing and restoration. I can't wait to meet him and hold him and enjoy his presence. And to tell him thank you for coming along at a good time.