There is so much that I could write about from the past few weeks. Some of it has been written, but will remain private. Some of it I want to share. These weeks have been filled with moments of intense pain that I want to forget juxtaposed with moments of pure beauty I hope I always remember. This post is about those.
First of all, I feel like I need to openly acknowledge that I am not now (and maybe never will be) in a place where I can say that I am thankful that we lost our baby. My hope is that, years from now, I will be able to look at our three children (yes, we still hope to have another baby) and realize that they are the children that God intended us to have, but I will always long for and miss the one we lost.
For the first few days after we found out we lost the baby there was a song playing over and over again. I have shared it before, but Aaron Keyes Sovereign Over Us was either actually playing or running through my head nonstop. I have always found this song hauntingly beautiful, but hearing the lyrics, crying through them, really feeling them made them come alive for me. One of the things that I realized quickly after we found out our baby was gone was that I was going to have to face a choice: I could be angry and bitter about a life that will never be, or I could choose to find the good that was and is. I chose the latter.
I had to start small. The first hours were filled with good, but good that I could only see in hindsight. For starters, Nat was home. I didn't have to face any of this alone. Along those lines, the friend I chose to text when I first realized something was wrong could not have been more helpful. I didn't realize it when I texted her, but she knew what I was going through and provided much needed support over the days and weeks to come.
Next, my doctor was in the office the morning we found out. I may have heard it from the ultrasound tech, but he was there to discuss options, answer questions, and assure me this wasn't my fault (a fact I am still coming to grips with). His clinical day was also the following day so he was able to perform my surgery. It may not have seemed like it at the time, but knowing he was there was comforting.
The friends that we told initially rallied around us. They called and texted me, sent cards and gifts, brought dinner, offered to keep our kids...pretty much anything we needed they were there. Then we made our "widespread" announcement and the support was astonishing. The prayers, thoughts, kind words, and shared experiences were so comforting to me. Sadly, I was far from alone in the pain I was experiencing, but seeing so many people who were truly able to be happy again at a time when all I felt was sadness gave me hope. So many of you listened to me (in person, on the phone, and over email) grieve, process, analyze, and try to understand why. I was truly never alone.
Finally our families have been supportive. From Nat's parents taking the kids at a moment's notice to my parents driving down for the weekend they have been there when we need them. I know this has been hard on them too as they were excited for a new grandchild.
As the pain has ebbed (yes, like everyone told me it would, it really does happen) I have been able to move from the more tangible and obvious good to more subtle things. For starters, I have been amazed at the fact that I haven't been angry. I remember telling Nat in the early days that I was most scared of the anger, but it hasn't come. I have been sad, hurt, crushed, devastated and pretty much any other adjective you can think of that implies an immense amount of emotional pain, but I have not been angry. I am thankful for ways God has provided that have left me comforted, prayerful and full of hope.
I believe that life is created for a reason and I believe that this baby was no exception to that. I do not know the reason that he/she was taken away from us so soon, and likely never will, but I trust that there is a reason. I spent a lot of time asking why in the beginning. Why was this child conceived if he/she wasn't going to live? Why was my pregnancy so normal at the beginning if things weren't right? I had all of the "good" symptoms: morning sickness, fatigue, a strong heartbeat on the ultrasound...and it was all over so fast. I was finally able to realize that my questions were no different than any other parent's who loses a child or person who loses a spouse. It's never the right time and it's always too soon.
I have tried desperately to blame myself, but even as I scrutinize and over analyze every move I made during this pregnancy I can come up with very little that could have caused this. I sometimes wish this were my fault, the logic being if I caused it I could also prevent it, but truthfully I know that guilt would crush me.
I can't put a neat bow on this post. There's no way to wrap it up that closes the hole in my heart. I am beginning to look forward. I am optimistic about the future. My earnest wish would be that no woman would ever experience this loss again, but I know that isn't realistic. So my hope is that someday, somewhere down the road, I will be able to look back on my experience and be a blessing to another family in their time of crisis, just as so many other people were to me.
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