Today, after a 3 hour appointment at the doctor’s office, I went across the street to Brandon Regional Hospital, which I have frequented often due to mom’s health issues. However, this time I went for myself.
The long drive up the parking garage felt different then all of the times I had driven up it before. This time, instead of checking in at security and heading to the elevators to go to mom’s room, I went to registration. I then saw the pre-op nurse.
April 23rd, after weeks of prayer, I tested positive on a pregnancy test. We weren’t trying. It was a total “God thing” that it happened. Really. I can share that story with you if you want to know. Casey wasn’t ready. I was. To my surprise, he was excited.
We started making plans. I filled out a “Belly Book” pregnancy journal. I bought a shirt to wear and announce it. I read “The Healthy Pregnancy” book. We weren’t going to wait 12 weeks, because “that” wouldn’t happen to us. We discussed names. I ate organically, cut out sweets, artificial colors and flavors, high fructose corn syrup, etc. I took high quality prenatal, EFA’s, etc. I had the pregnancy symptoms.
Then at 6 weeks I spotted a little. No cramping, so there wasn’t much concern. Went in for my first appointment days later. Had my very first ultrasound, not under the circumstances I had wished. No heartbeat. It was still early though.
I returned the following week and still no heartbeat and an enlarged yolk sack. “What is the baby measuring at?” I asked the doctor. 1 day larger than the ultrasound 6 days prior. It was no longer a viable pregnancy. What?? The doctor talked of having a D&C, going under anesthesia, having my uterus cleaned out of “products of conception,” etc. It was too much to handle.
I felt as though I was taking a walk of shame out of the building. So many expectant mothers sat in the waiting room, bellies protruding, and I walked out with a tear stricken face trying to hold it all in so I wouldn’t scare them. My eyes met a young pregnant mother who had two toddlers with her. I watched her unload them from her car when I arrived. As I pulled away she was loading them into the car. Our gaze met. I think she knew.
A fellow blogger, Vanessa Dionne says it best:
Miscarriage is one of the most painful kinds of death we can experience because it seems so unfair. Blinded to the sanctity of unborn life, our fallen world cannot offer hope to the woman who has lost her baby. We cannot find our hope in this fallen world. We must turn back to the Author who alone creates, cherishes, and sustains life according to His will.
My world came crashing down upon me. I was angry at God. He knew how long I had prayed for this. “We’ll try again honey,” Casey said as he tried to comfort me in the doctor’s office. We didn’t think this would happen to us. We scheduled another ultrasound to confirm a week out.
I spent three days grieving. I began to heal, although I felt so very alone. 1 in 4 women miscarry, and they usually suffer in silence. I wanted to go public with my story in effort to help those who have gone through this, but also to help those who haven’t gain a better understanding of it.
I want to give some advice to those who have never experienced a miscarriage, as it truly is difficult to comprehend if you haven’t walked through it. I have found that I have needed to have a lot of grace. Those who have walked (or crawled through this) will be able to relate. I will make this a separate blog.
Jalene Browning, a fellow jeweler and Christian sister of mine shared a song with me the day before my follow up. It changed my outlook. I clung to this song as my anthem. Had I not, I would have come out from the next appointment angry and bitter. I returned at my 8 week ultrasound to have the miscarriage confirmed.
Today has been 28 days since my baby got it’s wings. Yes, it was my baby, heartbeat or not. I believe life begins at conception. I was holding up quite well, even Saturday when the spotting started. I wanted to pass it naturally, although I had heard how painful it could be, and the chance of needing to go to the ER due to so much blood loss. The memories came flooding back. This wasn’t over. It was like throwing salt into an old wound. Monday I went to the doctor and they recommended a D&C based on how much time had passed. I didn’t want to do it.
At 3:45am this morning on the way to the bathroom, I believed I passed everything. It was horrible, yet surprisingly painless. I thought to myself, “Could this be it?” I hadn’t had contractions or “labor” as so many describe. I went in today for another ultrasound and was told it wasn’t over. “Just do the D&C so you can begin to heal from this,” the doctor said yet again. “But it’s beginning,” I countered back. I knew it could take time, a lot more time, and then the risk of infection would be high. I also ran the risk of not passing it all, and needing a D&C anyway. I just wanted to be over it. 28 days later . . .
The hospital was so cold. I felt so alone. Two ladies who worked there told me that I have such a positive outlook despite my circumstances. I gave God all the glory for this, because it truly is by His strength that I have been able to get though this.
On the drive home the tears came. I tried so hard to do this the natural way—to let nature take it’s course, but I’m tired. Tired of waiting, and not knowing when and where it will happen. I cried because I felt so weak in that moment. I am having surgery to remove the remains of my pregnancy . . .
I looked at the hospital bands on my arm and tears flooded my face as I drove home listening to “Thy Will” and trying to sing along through the tears. I gave in to the procedure I was so dead-set against. To me, it is essentially an abortion. It’s the same procedure. In fact, the doctor slipped up and caught herself saying “abortion” and quickly said “miscarriage”. I know my baby is no more. It’s just a scary thought, especially when you read the description of the procedure on the consent form . . .
But, I know that this whole experience is nature’s way of saying that something wasn’t right. Chromosomally, something wasn’t right. God knows. He is God and I am not, just as the song states. Casey and I will get though this. We will trust our Father, even when we don’t understand and circumstances don’t seem fair. He has our best interests at heart.
I want to thank those who knew about this and have prayed for me and reached out to me to see how I have been holding up. I especially want to thank Kelly Spezzano and Jalene Browning, my fellow Premier sisters, as well as Mike Glenn of Premier Designs prayer team. Your love and support have meant so much to me. Also, thank you Jenny Cruz and Jessica White for your encouragement and support. May God bless you immensely. Momma Del, your texts meant so much to me. Cheryl Johnston, your tears and prayers touched my spirit deeply. And lastly, my sister Janet: Your calls, texts, and tears helped me during such a difficult time. Love you.
My procedure is at 10:30am tomorrow. I would appreciate all of the prayers and support I can get. I know I will leave feeling empty. But I know this isn’t the end of my story. As with my accident, this test will become a testimony. This season may take awhile to heal from, but healing will come.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” —Psalm 34:18