My Miscarriage

I found out on Saturday that we were expecting our fifth baby. By Wednesday afternoon, I lost the baby. Four days. 

My last cycle happened within a few days of my mom passing away, which meant I said, "Really, God?! Really??" but never actually recorded it on my calendar. When I took the test, I had no idea where I was in my cycle. I just knew that I was either very sick, or pregnant. The line was faded, but it was there enough for me to know this was it.

I was in shock. This didn't feel like The Plan. I knew it wasn't MY plan. I had just started Weight Watchers a week prior. Larry and I had just joined tennis. I had said, if we have another baby at all, that I wanted to wait at least 2 years. It wasn't even 4 months yet. 

Larry, though he had said our family was done, was excited. He was Pastor Larry and encouraged me. Children are a blessing. God gives us these children for a reason. He will provide. 

I took a lot of deep breaths.

I emailed my midwife. I was worried. It was so soon, I was nursing, I had been trying to lose weight, and I was now in my 30's. I may not want to be pregnant, but I do not want to lose this baby.

We decided we wouldn't find out the sex of the baby. I contacted a birth teacher and asked about prices so we could make a plan to budget. 

My symptoms started to fade. 

I took a test Monday night. No line. 

I took a test Tuesday morning. No line.

Maybe the original test was cheap, and I was never pregnant. But I knew there was more to it than the line. I knew I had been pregnant.

On Wednesday I went to the bathroom and thought, "Oh! I started my period. Cool, I was never pregnant."

And just as I threw the tissue in the toilet, I realized that something wasn't right. I wasn't cramping. And that looked different.

I think I just threw my baby in the toilet.

I didn't know what to do. I flushed the toilet and my heart hurt. 

I called my midwife. It sounded like a miscarriage.

I was numb. I was shocked. Maybe I was wrong about everything and this wasn't a miscarriage, just a weird period.

That night my back started to hurt a lot. The pain in my back made it real. I lost the baby.

The kids all in bed, I fell apart. I cried and the thoughts attacked me.

It's all your fault. If you had taken better care of yourself, you wouldn't have lost the baby. You should have had more water. You should have had your quiet time today. God is punishing you. You flushed your baby down the toilet. What kind of mother are you?

I knew these thoughts were lies. I know God doesn't punish us. Yes, we have consequences for our actions, but the consequence of not having quiet time is not having the word of the Bible on my tongue to be able to push these evil thoughts away. I know God did not take my baby to punish me. And I know that the second I thought I might be pregnant, I changed everything. But that didn't matter.

I'm so sorry, Larry. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry.

He held me and let me cry. He prayed for me. He kept telling me it wasn't my fault. 

I've had friends who miscarried and I never once for a second even considered that it was "their fault" but there I was. And here I am. Unconvinced. After all, this baby was being housed in my body. And my body couldn't keep it.

It hurts so much though. It hurts to know there was a life growing inside of you and suddenly, it's gone. I just keep thinking, "I would have loved you. I would have loved you the way I love your brothers and sister."

So now I'm grieving. I'm trying to allow myself time to grieve. Tomorrow will be a month since my mother passed. It's all just a bit much.

Last night I was cleaning up before we went out. I saw the pregnancy tests in the drawer and went to throw them away, except on one, a line had formed. Over the days it had grown darker. I cried. I cried going to the comedy club. I cried during intermission, and I cried on the way home. 

I find myself thinking about the women who don't have babies to hold as they grieve for the baby they lost and I hurt for them so much. I don't know how they make it through the day. To ache for a baby, to have that gift for days, or weeks, or months even, only to have it taken away. It's devastating. 

I hoped I would never experience a miscarriage, but I had no idea it would affect me this much. It would be so easy to disappear into depression. To allow this sadness to overtake me. But I know that I can't. There has to be a balance between grieving, and carrying on. Between crying for what is lost, and being grateful for what is here. I don't know where that balance lies. And so this post ends with no answers, but with the beginning of a journey. A journey I never wanted to take, but I know that if I keep following God and my husband, there will be light and life again.