My Worst Nightmare - Take Two

Throughout this pregnancy, I have been an anxious, fearful mess.  My biggest fear:  Having another miscarriage.  Well, I am learning that worrying about things fails to protect you and prevent your fears from coming to fruition.  I have actually been wondering what the point of worrying is anyways.  It really does not help in any way - at all.  It only seems to add more stress and chaos to life.

I woke up on one particular Friday morning, following my regular routine.  Made my way to the bathroom and discovered upon wiping that I was lightly spotting.  My first thought was "Oh  no, I am having another miscarriage!"  I dreaded that my biggest fear was coming to life.  Here we go again.  I instantly started bawling my eyes out.  I don't think I could have stopped it even if I wanted to.  

I ran to my husband in the other room to inform him, between the sobs, that I was spotting and asked him to pray.  I was also praying as tears were streaming down my face.  Pleading with God that our baby would be okay and hoping with everything within me that this did not mean my biggest fear was coming to life.

As soon as my doctor's office opened, I called and spoke with the PA.  She attempted to ease my fears with comments such as, "Some women spot throughout their pregnancy" and "It doesn't necessarily mean you're having a miscarriage."  I tried really hard to allow her words to comfort me, but as I thought about our past experience and faced the reality before me, her words felt empty.  The spotting, plus the fact that I wasn't experiencing some of the "typical" pregnancy symptoms I had in the previous pregnancy exasperated my fears all the more.

As evening arrived, the spotting was no longer pink, but red.  My fears continued to increase, but I was trying not to dwell on what may be and instead keep pleading with God for everything to be okay.  When Saturday morning arrived, I noticed there was more bleeding than before, and [Warning:  Semi-graphic content] as the day progressed blood seemed to pour out of me every time I sat on the toilet.  Then, later in the evening, I saw a couple of large dark masses that seemed to just plop out of me.  This was the scariest thing yet.

I knew very well that what I was experiencing could be a miscarriage, yet I was still clinging to the hope that things could be different.  So I kept praying.  I prayed for the bleeding to stop.  I prayed and I cried and prayed some more.  The next day the bleeding was much lighter.  I was optimistic that things may have actually been getting better.  However, I still felt unsettled.  

Since my first miscarriage was a "missed miscarriage" that resulted in a D & C, I was a little clueless about what experiencing a natural miscarriage was like.  Throughout the weekend, I had been "googling" various symptom, terms, and topics in hopes to find some answers.  During one particular search,  I happened upon a discussion that talked about different women's experiences with miscarriages.  I saw one post that was similar to how far along I was in the pregnancy (a few days shy of eight weeks) and what she described was very similar to what I had experienced.

Reality set in.  I began facing the fact that I truly may have already experienced a miscarriage.  My prayers changed.  I began to ask that God would prepare our hearts for the truth we would discover on Monday.  I asked that He would give us what we needed to make it through this again.  Having been through it once before gave me hope we could get through it again, but it also made me very aware of the emotional pain that was to come and honestly, that scared me to death.  I claimed God's goodness, faithfulness, and His love for us, and His ability to heal our hearts.  

On Monday, I called my doctor's office to fill them in on the events of the weekend.  About an hour later, my husband and I were on our way to her office.  By this time, they had gotten the results of my blood test from the previous week.  The PA confirmed that based on my HCG levels from last week's blood test and the symptoms I had over the weekend that we had indeed had another miscarriage.  Although, they had confirmed the miscarriage, they sent me to the hospital for one more blood test so they could have a comparison number for my HCG level.  Later that day, I received a phone call informing me that my HCG level was continuing to drop, confirming without a doubt that we definitely had another miscarriage.  

I had attempted to get some sleep that day - wanting desperately to be able to forget, even if just for a little while, about what we were going through.  However, except for a few brief twenty minute periods, I was unable to.  Everything seemed so surreal and I felt completely numb.  Although, I knew firsthand that there were painful days ahead and many more emotions to come, I clung to the Truth that God is trustworthy, that He is good, that He is faithful, that He loves us, and that He is able to heal our broken hearts.  So here we go again...yet, tightly clinging to the truth that He can and will bring us through this since He carried us through once before.

Emotional Roller Coaster

For the past two weeks, I have been analyzing my body and emotions, almost daily, attempting to determine whether or not we are pregnant again.  And for the record, when I analyze, I do not just analyze, I over analyze to the point that I have convinced myself that I am pregnant even though it may not be so.  So as you can imagine, I have been anxiously awaiting the time that I can actually take a test and know for sure.

Well, on Sunday, since I could not wait any longer, I decided to take one of those tests that are supposed to be able to predict whether or not you're pregnant days before your period is supposed to start.  After meticulously following the test's instructions, I stood over the stick anxiously awaiting a plus or minus sign.  Well, the minus sign never turned into what I was hoping for.  It was negative, thus beginning my emotional roller coaster.  My heart was broken.  Tears streaming down my face.  I thought to myself, "You have to accept that this may not happen in your timing" while simultaneously thinking, "It's okay.  You're testing early.  It could be wrong."

Then along came Tuesday, the day my period was supposed to arrive.  I woke up that morning with no signs of my period.  The day continued to progress and still no sign.  I know from my consistent cycle that it typically arrives prior to the evening hours so my excitement and anticipation gradually began to build.  Then the evening arrived and still no period.  So what did I do?  Take another test, of course!

I found myself in the bathroom yet again, hoovering over the test waiting for a response to appear.  This time the faintest plus sign you've ever seen appeared.  I took another one to make sure.  Another faint plus sign appeared.  I showed them both to my husband.  He confirmed that they were indeed plus signs, although so faint I honestly thought it was possible it was a figment of my imagination.  But he said he saw it too so I guess that means we can celebrate, right?  Excitement, happiness, and peace filled my heart until....

Less than an hour later I went to the bathroom and saw that I was spotting.  It was not anything to freak out about, but when I wiped I saw pink so my thought now was "I am not pregnant.  My period is starting."  I did not have any spotting with my first pregnancy so to me it automatically implied that something was not right.  Enter heartbreak and disappointment all over again.

The spotting progressed until the following evening and disappeared the next day.  So the following day I decided to take another pregnancy test.  This time the plus sign appeared again.  Although still faint, it was darker than before.  And after taking another test to confirm, I finally felt like we could celebrate yet again.

Five days.  Five pregnancy tests. One negative result.  Two faint positives.  Two more convincing positives.  So I guess that means, it's true.  We're pregnant again.  We're super excited, but incredibly fearful all at the same time.  Again, we find ourselves, our baby, our future in God's hands.  Acknowledging that we have no control, but praying and hoping our fears and worries will not come to fruition.  Only time will tell.

In the meantime, however, I am thankful for this verse that God has given me to help me fight my fears and anxiety...

"See, I am doing a new thing.  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland" (Isaiah 43:19, NIV).

Our life has felt like both the wilderness and a wasteland since our first loss four months ago, but I am clinging to God's words that He is doing a new thing.  He has blessed us with another child.  This is our child, whether or not we will hold him or her in Heaven, he or she is ours and no one or nothing will ever change that.  Thank you, Jesus, for this gift of life.

[NOTE:  This post is a reflection of events, thoughts, and feelings that occurred in September 2012.  Story to be continued.]

On Trying Again

It's finally that time.  The time we've been waiting for.  It's exciting, yet simultaneously terrifying.  The possibility of conceiving another child is clearly exciting, yet the possibility of losing another child is terrifying.

Before the loss, we knew a miscarriage was a possible.  We were fearful it would happen to us, but it still felt an arm's length away or at least another person's experience away.  However, this time everything is different.  It's not just possible.  It doesn't just happen.  It happened to us.  It is real.

It's difficult to explain how different it feels this time.  We have faced a reality that suggests there is a chance we will never see our hopes and dreams come to life.  We know firsthand that everything does not happen as easily or perfectly as what some of us are told.  The innocence has been lost.

We do not face this time with the same pure excitement and anticipation of our hopes and dreams literally coming to life.  Instead, it is now threaded with tremendous fear and anxiety.  Fear of the unknown.  Will we be able to get pregnant again?  Will we be able to conceive in the same time frame as before?  Is my body able to carry a child to full-term?  Will our child be healthy?  Will we loose another child and go through this all over again?

Yet, even when all our fear and anxiety is staring us in the face, we press onward.  We choose to try again even though it may mean we will loose another child.  We choose to open our hearts to another child even if it means we may never hold him or her in our arms on this earth.  This is hope and courage even in the midst of the most terrifying fear and paralyzing anxiety.   

So here's to what is completely and utterly out of our control.  We surrender our wants and desires to God once again, yet ferociously hope we will see our hopes and desires come to fruition.  We have done all that is within our power and control.  The rest is in God's hands.  Now, we eagerly await the next couple weeks to see what only time will tell.

[NOTE:  This post is a reflection of events, thoughts, and feelings that occurred in September 2012.]

A Name

For the past couple weeks, my husband and I have been attempting to choose a name for our baby, which has been easier said then done.  Without knowing the gender or not yet seeing the face of our beautiful baby boy or girl, choosing the right name has been a mysterious process.  So in the meantime, I have prayed many prayers that sounded like this:  "Jesus, you have spent time with our baby face to face, please provide a name that fits him or her well."

I realize that not all parents of miscarried children choose to give their babies a name.  There is no right or wrong decision.  This is just something we have chosen to do and is meaningful to us.  However, to be honest, it didn't start out that way initially.  Shortly after we found out that we had lost our baby, I almost immediately wanted to give our baby a name.  I longed for a tangible way to acknowledge the short, but significant life of our baby.  My husband did not feel this way at that time so I respected his feelings and dropped the topic.  This is just one example of how spouses or significant others may differ in the grieving process, and although it may be difficult at the time respecting one another's differences is love in action.

About four months after our initial discussion and much prayer and patience, I gently brought up the idea to him again to see if he felt the same as before or if anything had changed.  To my surprise, he immediately responded, "Yes, let's do it", thus commencing the beginning of our name hunt.  After looking at multiple websites and reading hundreds of names, we narrowed it down to a few gender-neutral names we both liked the sound of.  However, we struggled to find a name that rang beautifully in our ears and carried significant meaning so we continued to wrestle with the idea for the next several days.

Eventually we decided to go with a first name we liked the sound of and a middle name that was meaningful to our story, our journey, and our hearts.  So this marks our first moment of publicly revealing our chosen name.  Are you ready for it?  Here is it is...

Ashton Hope

"Ashton" was one of the few names we both liked the sound of and could imagine calling our baby boy or girl.  And "Hope", we choose hope because of the hope we have chosen to cling to throughout this entire process.  Hope that God will sustain us when it feels like hope is lost.  Hope that God will heal our hearts.  Hope that God will bring beauty out of this mess.  And finally, hope that one day we will see our baby face to face.  Thank you, Jesus!

Ashton Hope, it feels so good to call you by name.  Thank you for the honor and privilege it is to be your mommy.

Remembering our Babies

Tonight, I just wanted to write a quick to post to acknowledge all the mommies I witnessed remembering their babies today.  For those of you who don't know, which I am sure most of you do, today is "Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day".  Today, I have been blessed by the courage and strength of all the women I have witnessed publicly remembering and acknowledging their babies on this special day.  Thank you for your authenticity and bravery.  You are inspiring.

Tonight, our candles are lit in memory of our precious babies who are in the arms of Jesus.  We miss you so much, but rest in the hope that we will see you and hold you again, for some, or for the first time, for others.  Your lives, although short, have forever changed ours.  You are loved.

Why Not?

Several weeks ago, I was speaking to my co-worker and she was talking about how we often ask the question "Why?" when we are facing difficult and/or painful circumstances, but rarely ask "Why not?".  I was put off by her statement at first especially considering the fact that I have been wrestling with my own "Why?" question, however as I began to consider her perspective with an open heart and mind, I was humbled.  I am quick to ask God "Why?", but have never considered asking "Why not?".

When I dare to ask the question "Why not?", I cannot help but think "Who am I to be exempt from experiencing pain in this far from perfect world?"  Yes, not everyone experiences the pain and heartache of a miscarriage, but in this less than perfect world, we all experience pain.  Pain, that although it bears different names and circumstances, is a pain that breaks hearts all the same.  So "Who am I to think that I should be exempt from this pain while other mothers suffer?"

"Who am I am to critique or judge who should or should not face certain circumstances and its associated pain?"  Only God has the power and authority over those things, not me.  Don't get me wrong, asking the question "Why not?" does not diminish the pain, but it does offer another perspective.  Also, it does not mean we still do not need to wrestle with the question "Why", it just means we should not stop there.  The reality is that we often do not know "Why?", but we can rest in the fact that there is One who does and He deeply loves and cares for us.

So although I know little, I am choosing to trust that God knows everything, including the answers to my "Why?" and "Why not?" questions.  For me, it all keeps coming back to surrender.  Surrendering my pride, admitting that I do not know everything.  Surrendering my desires, trusting God even if I never get what I want.  Surrendering to His plan, even when I do not like it and it does not make any sense to me.  Surrendering to His love, trusting that He loves me even when it may not feel that way.

"Why not?"  It's better than the alternatives.

Why?

For myself, one of the most difficult aspects of my grief journey has been accepting the fact that God allowed this to happen.  Days before our loss, I was reading in the book of Job.  Not by coincidence, I assume, instead God's way of preparing me for what was to come.  Two passages struck me.  The first is found in Job 2:10, "...Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble? (NIV)"  Humbling, yet striking to the core.  Creating a myriad of negative emotions as a result of the truth that God allowed this to happen, yet simultaneously humbling me before the Creator of the Universe.

The second was Job's response as he was mourning the deaths of his children, he spoke in worship, "...The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised" (Job 1:21, NIV).  To acknowledge that "the Lord has taken away" and still trust Him, that's where I struggle.  To admit that God allowed this to happen is painful.  It makes me feel sad, disappointed, angry, resentful, and betrayed.  It's agonizing to accept that He allowed this to happen when I know He could have prevented it if He only would have chosen to.

This struggle was exasperated recently when I was challenged to come face to face with the reality that God allowed our miscarriage.  I did not want to accept the fact that God allowed this to happen because I was fearful of how it would change my view of God and my relationship with Him.  However, as I was reading Grieving the Child I never Knew, the author's words offered no alternative choice when she wrote, "As painful as this truth may be to face, sooner or later, you must" (p. 70).  Instantly, her words deeply afflicted a part of me that I had been hiding and burying...the part where I was asking, "Why?"   As this part of me was exposed, my whisper became a scream and my insides were screaming "But why?".  God did not answer to my question, but He did respond.  He gently spoke, "Surrender".

Upon hearing His response, I promptly left the kitchen table and headed to the beach, which was only a stroll away from a cabin we were staying at for the weekend.  I thought the beach was a good place to think, plus I was overcome with emotions and did not want the other people in the room to notice my tears.  While sitting on the beach, I started sharing my honest feelings, fears, struggles, doubts, and pain with God.  I told Him I wanted to trust Him and in my head knew He was trustworthy, but admitted this experience had stolen some of my innocence and childlike faith.  I told Him that I knew He was bigger and smarter than me, and acknowledged that He was God, not me, and asked for help to accept the fact that I may never receive an answer to my "But why?" question.

Using a nearby stick, I scribbled in the sand and dug deep circles into it, attempting to give my feelings an outlet.  It offered some release.  And after wrestling with my thoughts and feelings for sometime, I decided to surrender.  I decided to Trust God no matter what.  I decided to follow God even when I do not get what I want.  I decided to accept the Truth that "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away", yet choose to say, "may the name of the Lord be praised".  So I wrote down my sacrifice to the Lord on the alter of that sandy beach, tears streaming down my face as I wrote...

"The Lord gives and takes away; Blessed be the name of the Lord."

After writing those words in the sand and surrendering in my heart, an indescribable peace and freedom overwhelmed me.  A weight was lifted, my burden was lighter, and I was freer.