The Beauty of Autumn

A little touch of Autumn flare in our living room:

 

My Honest Truth About a Miscarriage

*Written a few months ago.

Before I found out I was pregnant, people would constantly ask me when I was going to have a baby. My response was always along these lines...

Husband needs to finish school.
We live in a one bedroom apartment.
There are debts to pay off.
Our car is about to die (which actually did happen last week).

And then there were fears about being emotionally and mentally ready.  If we had ironed everything out between us enough to raise a child.  How good of parents would we actually be. Etc.

But a day came when in matter of minutes it all changed. We were given a surprise.  God sent us a little gift.  I realized as I was waiting for the sign to change on the stick that I really wanted to be pregnant.  I realized I was going to be disappointed if the plus sign wasn't there.  All of a sudden the plus sign appeared and everything fell into place. 

Life somehow became a little more clear, a little more crisp. It felt so right as though this was what my body was meant to do, as though this was what I was meant to do.  All the things that made me nervous didn't hold the same weight anymore and some disappeared completely. 

Although I know plenty of women, especially within my own band of relatives, who have had miscarriages, I have to say that I thought I was immune.  To be a little more honest I wasn't in the best of places in the past year. So I had an informal thought in my head with God that He wouldn't send me anything more to handle, especially since being pregnant had made me so happy and had ignited a spark in me that I somehow lost a while ago. I even went a step further to think that if there was something He wanted me to learn I wouldn't learn it because I would be too angry and removed to see anything He wanted me to see. 

Since I knew all the above to be "true," I knew God wouldn't take our gift away. So,  I jumped on the band wagon of being pregnant.  I read the book Birthing From Within (fantastic book! read if you are pregnant and into artsy-fartsy!), found an amazing Birthing Center, met a midwife, figured out how to make our walk-in closet into a baby nook, watched birthing videos, found Birth Art classes, and to top it all off joined ProjectNursery.com and started a list of baby themes for my baby nook.  All this within 6 weeks of being pregnant. A little premature? Yes. Could it be helped? No. That's how much I realized I wanted this.  For those who know me as being the epitome of a Type B person, know that this was a whole lot of planning for me.  I thought I was changing now that I was a "mother-to-be."

Around the same time I found that I was pregnant, I found out that my good childhood friend was pregnant.  My friend from work was pregnant and two girls from church.  I envisioned our babies at church. I thought of going on a hike with our babies. I imagined the stories we would share, good and bad. It was going to be great. 

In the beginning of July, I was visited by my sister, two nephews, and niece.  It was yet another thing that fell into place.  How wonderful that my sister should be here to share my joy? Plus she was bringing all her pregnancy clothes and a couple of baby items! Again it seemed meant to be. 

And then it changed.  During my sister's visit, I noticed some spotting.  I didn't call the midwife that day as my sister had suggested.  My thoughts were either it was a miscarriage or it wasn't and there was probably nothing to do about it.  That night I cried myself to sleep.  I didn't know anything for sure. It wasn't profusely bleeding. I physically felt fine. But something was very wrong. My excitement and desire to read/learn about pregnancy and birthing somehow stopped in a matter of hours. It disappeared.  Something felt wrong.  I couldn't verbalize anything to my husband as I wasn't sure what to say.  I believe he would have said: we don't know for sure yet. always hope for the best. we can call tomorrow. don't get worked up about something you're not certain about... I didn't want to hear those things because I couldn't logically explain what I felt. It may sound cliche that I felt something was wrong, especially now that I'm writing after the fact, but it is the truth.  I hadn't given up though. I don't think anyone does. There was always a part that hoped but as the days and hours went on a piece of that hope slowly got taken away piece by piece.

The following day I did call the midwife and I got the facts. Something along the lines of 25% percent of all pregnant women have spotting and 50% of those end in miscarriages and there is nothing you can do to put yourself from one category to the other.  As long as it didn't turn bright red I should be fine.  The next day at 4:30am it turned red.   The days were spent basking in the joys of my niece and nephews and the nights were spent battling with my own emotions.  The first night the anger and bitterness did indeed rise.  It was the first time in my life I was actually angry at God.  How could He give me this surprise that I didn't ask for, make me so happy, only to take it away? The second night I felt stupid and ashamed for getting so excited so quickly, for being so foolish, for being so happy. The third night I began to feel just sorrow, I began to mourn. 

I'm not exactly sure the "day" that it happened as it was a long process but I'm pretty sure it was Tuesday, July 3rd.  On that day I picked lavendar on a lavendar farm, walked along the shore with my nephew, sat in a bathtub while talking with my sister and cried out my woes to my husband.

Looking back I realized I was not a 'mother-to-be.' I am a mother. Although I never held my baby, although I never touched or saw my baby, I do have a child.  My husband and mother were discussing a story that was all over the news a few years back about a boy around the age of four who clinically died but came back to life.  One of the stories he told his parents was of meeting his sister. A sister he never knew about and in a way neither did his parents.  His mother had had a miscarriage and this little boy met his sister.  I hadn't wrapped my brain around the notion of my baby being able to meet anyone.  I did think about the soul and how it was created.  I thought of my baby as a whimsical, fleeting spirit, if that's even possible.  But in the moment of hearing this story I realized that I have baby. For whatever reason I will not have the opportunity of meeting my baby anytime soon but the possibility is there.  I have to admit that I did cry when it hit me harder that I made a real baby.  That may sound silly. I always knew I made a baby, but because we live in such a tangible world it didn't dawn on me that the soul developed so differently than the physical body.  That I could meet the soul of my baby and know it as my baby.  At times I feel like my baby is lost because it is not with me and then I quickly remember that my baby is in the best place of all and if anyone feels lost it's me.  At some moment in time we may be reunited. 

I realized that people like to tell people in sorrow or in mourning that it's okay, everything is going to be okay, that time will heal all wounds. But I think these things comfort the person talking.  I could be wrong but I think there is real healing value in stating the truth, identify the pain, and letting people really cry and mourn.  I have a theory that the faster you let yourself feel, the sooner you will learn to grow, regardless of whether or not the pain lingers.  This links back to my blog on The Power of Vulnerability.

I feel sorrow about the choices I've made thus far.  My father would say throughout the years that God sends us things to help us get back on the path.  I feel that had I made choices that kept me on the path that perhaps I wouldn't have had to have a miscarriage to teach the things that earlier I professed to God I wouldn't learn anyway (for example my relationship has grown with my husband). Although this may not all be healthy to think about but I think there may be truth in it. Plus, I'm not dwelling on it.  It's just an aspect that I think is a part of life.

My sister, my other knight-in-shining armour after my husband, gave me a gift...

...to wear and always remember my child that I "lost" prematurely and hopefully will someday meet.