*To my precious pregnant friends, or anyone else for whom miscarriage is a trigger, please refrain from reading this post if you have any inkling that it will upset you. I appreciate your love and support, and regardless of what I’m going through know that I rejoice with you.*
As I signed my name at the bottom of the discharge paper, my eyes fixed on those two words. I held myself together long enough to make it to the doors, but as soon as the wind hit my face the tears came hard and heavy.
I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t process a thing.
I couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
It wasn’t a dream. It was my harsh, cruel, and excruciatingly painful reality.
We had lost our baby and my heart was shattered into a million pieces.
Just a few weeks ago, our exciting news brought joy and celebration to our immediate family. We told them on Christmas Day, and I couldn’t think of a more perfect gift.
This was an answered prayer, and we were ecstatic! We would have been overjoyed at any time, but the timing of this precious baby seemed extra special in light of the challenging year we had.
On January 1st everything changed.
I met the first day of the new year with some unsettling concerns. I’d experienced these symptoms before and things turned out fine, but I couldn’t quite shake the anxious feelings.
I prayed with my husband and every day we confessed life and health and healing over my womb.
I fought hard against destructive thoughts and the enemy’s attacks against my mind, and pleaded with the Lord to make the bleeding and cramping stop.
I refused to live in fear. I refused to live in fear!
Everything would be ok, and I would walk by faith and not by sight.
Everything would be ok…until it wasn’t.
I laid there in shock as the ultrasound revealed a void. Nothing but a faint impression of an abnormally shaped sac, appearing to exit my body.
My mind was racing thinking about my baby. We were almost at 8 weeks. We were supposed to see that heart beat, get our picture, and rejoice. I was supposed to be sharing our good news.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
What had I done wrong?
It took no time for those lies to run rampant in my mind. What if this and what if that? I knew better but I wanted an explanation. I wanted someone to blame. I was as good a choice as any and ‘it just happens sometimes’ wasn’t going to cut it.
I wanted to know why this happened to me. Not that I’m anyone special. I’m simply a mom who, sometime in August, wanted to meet my baby. Was that really too much to ask? Was I being unreasonable here God?
Maybe I was. Maybe I was being completely selfish knowing how blessed I am with my two little girls at home.
I’m saddened knowing that there are so many women whose experiences are more traumatic and further along. But we’re not in competition with each other! We have all loved and lost. And this, this is significant to me!
This baby mattered in his or her 6-7 weeks of life. I was already changed and already loving this little one with every fiber of my being.
I already started jotting down names, and thinking of fun pregnancy announcements. I knew we’d choose to wait on the gender and the suspense would be so worth it!
I wondered who he would look like. What would be the texture of her hair? How would his big sisters react? I couldn’t wait to hold this beloved child in my arms.
Instead I went home empty and broken, nauseous from the medication and with a migraine that knocked me off my feet. I wasn’t able to stomach any food, and I cried so intensely in the shower that I couldn’t tell the difference between the water coming from the shower head and the tears streaming down my face.
I couldn’t bring myself to remove my hand from my stomach.
I wanted my baby back, and there was nothing I could do.
Help me to understand.
God, I don’t blame you even though the thought crossed my mind. I know you can handle that, but I’m certain you know that I always come around. Still, I don’t get it. I can’t see the big picture. Help me to understand your plan.
I’ll never stop loving you or trusting you or believing that you are as real as the air I breathe. But why? I know that my vision is so limited and my sight is so narrow, so please strengthen me to trust you that much more.
Strengthen me because I’m tired.
Strengthen me because I’m grieving and mourning this loss.
Strengthen me because I’m having a hard time being restored by your hope.
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. – Romans 8:28 NLT
Strengthen me because I am in pain, and I want to find comfort in your peace.
Strengthen me because I am missing a part of me and I can’t go through this alone.
Strengthen me in a way that only you can, and surround me, dear Father, with your everlasting love.