October 13th Entry

This post is a bit old, but I just have to post it. It's surrounding my thoughts and feelings on October 13th...
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One year ago today, after a grueling 7 hours in the ER, I lost my very first baby. My very first hard worked-for child. Jonathan's and my first fruits of our love. It was a day I never ever anticipated living through. While I did not expect to have trouble conceiving, that's something that gradually dawns on you and month by month the acceptance of it comes. But to have never walked with a family member or close friend through a miscarriage basically left me blind-sided completely by the event. I'd heard of them, certainly, but they were something that happened to other people. And then there we were, having lost our own precious one and suddenly left with endlessly unfurling emotions and questions galore.

That child had been prayed for so very hard by us, by our family members, by all 3 of our small groups we'd gone through while trying to conceive, and by more church friends that I can even count. That baby was after 26 months of trying, after multiple medicated cycles, and finally by our first try at in-vitro. We hadn't even really expected it to work. So when it did, the idea of losing the baby was too unbelievable for us to even prepare for.

That day, we both grew into adults. We'd always felt somewhat like giddy teenagers with how blissful and happy our marriage and life was. Even the hard times. Ah, but now we had a precious child in heaven. We were grown-ups. And because Jonathan and I believe in absolutely being genuine in our faith, that means that the next many, many months were spent with a lot of questioning God's goodness, His part in answering our prayers, His part in conception or barrenness, His plans versus living in a fallen/evil world... We did not shy away from asking what can be faith-shaking questions. Because we did believe that if the faith we call Christianity is worth anything, then it is not intimidated or shaken by an earthly person's doubts. Christ does not shush and and tell us we "don't understand" or He doesn't scold for our frail humanity and limited perspective. Often He answers the very way He did Job: He reveals His nature and His Being, and seeing Who God is overwhelms us to the point where we realize our questioning doesn't always make sense because we don't grasp the vastness of God and the universe. Anyway....

We did walk through our most difficult trial in our lives up to this point. The most excrutiating and painful one we'd experienced. And we would reached different places emotionally on the journey, but at one point, there was such an immense emotional Oneness between Jonathan and me, I've never experienced that in our marriage. We were down at our very lowest, and most unsure, but we were there together. And then God had Jonathan deployed, and separately He started to mend my heart and give me a chance to try to trust Him again. He gave me peace with the question "Is God good?" Jonathan had to come home and work through everything on a different time-table as me then, but we both have been working together on a renewed understanding of it all.

I was so scared and doubtful going into IVF #2. That's why I didn't blog or call almost anyone about it. I had no idea what would happen. And when we did get pregnant, and the pregnancy was progressing, we just kept on holding our breath, waiting for something "bad". And it didn't come. And we realized we had to stop waiting and just had to thank God and open our hearts again and be vulnerable enough to, yes, even be hurt again. So far, the Lord has preserved this precious girl's life, and we have never stopped marveling and thanking Him.

But we still have a wound that will always be there, in our hearts, and especially ingrained on my mind, of our precious little lamb that went to be with Jesus last October 13th. I miss that child, as the knowledge of it reminds me occasionally. Like getting a card from Gerber in the mail talking about "your 4 month old". There are songs I heard right after the miscarriage, that will come on unexpectedly and reduce me to tears at the emotional recollection. And then I will touch my very-round belly and I will praise the Lord for the kindness of a child in me right now.

Do we know why we have had to walk this path? No. Are we willing to keep trusting God for the next steps in our lives? Yes. Are we perfect and fearless? No. But will we be vulnerable enough to allow the joy and the pain in? Yes.

And somewhere, I hope and pray I may use the consolation I received to be a shoulder to others and a hand reaching into their darkest days to say "I love you, I have been there, let me just be with you as you grieve."

We miss you little first child of ours. You are always our precious one. May you be worshipping Jesus and fully happy in His presence. We will meet you one day.

Well, it's been too long since an update. I've kept myself dutifully busy running here and there. Trying to let time pass as quickly as possible. I miss Jonathan terribly still, of course. I live for the times I get to webcam or talk to him, I plan my life around those wonderful times.

I realized I haven't said very much about my feelings in this pregnancy, just had the fun little updates. But I guess I feel like writing them now.

This pregnancy has really been amazing to us... Amazing that it happened, first off. I had no idea what to expect, and I didn't have nearly the optisim going through IVF the second time as I did the first. When we found out, and I went to show Jonathan that positive test, I was happy and scared. His first reaction (as far as I recall): let's call our parents and ask them to pray. We were scared, we'd done this once and so didn't want to lose this baby too. It's weird to call your parents to tell them you're pregnant, but not to be able to really be excited about it (or to allow them to be). But it just was. Those first few weeks were so tenuous. I worried every time I had a strange feeling, every time I went to the bathroom, and especially until I got that first ultrasound. Even getting it and seeing a heartbeat at 6wk, I wondered how long it might last. We prayed a lot, and kinda just held our breath. We told a few close people about it, but never really made any "announcement" like the first time.

For my own mental well-being, we purchased a Doppler online at ~9 weeks. It has been the best $100 we have ever spent. Every time I've lain down to listen to the baby's heartbeat, getting that reassuring sound in the 160 range always brings a smile to my face and peace to my heart. I love it!!! Now the baby moves a lot, so I don't use it nearly as often. But still, when it's 4 weeks between appointments, it was so important to have.

Jonathan and I really reached a crucible when we went to the 13 week NT scan. When we looked on the ultrasound screen, we saw the form of a baby! This child we'd been aching for, praying for, worrying over, it now had the features of a real baby, not a little bean anymore. It touched us so much and created an even deeper attachment to the baby. We were so moved and mezmorized. And we realized if losing the other baby at 6w5d when we'd never even gotten to see it on ultrasound, and this one we had with us twice as long and had seen 3 times, what kind of devastation would losing this one be? It was scary to contemplate.

We'd been in kind-of a holding pattern since IVF started, spiritually speaking. We prayed a lot, but we didn't know if God was hearing us. We were afraid there were more trials ahead, and we didn't know how we would hold up, that first one was so painful. But as the pregnancy progressed, and the baby kept growing faithfully, we had to face a reality: we could not stay in a spiritual hibernation, just waiting for the baby's birth or for something bad to happen. We spent lots of time praying, talking to one another, and asking God to restore our desire for Him. We knew we were't desiring Him in the way we should, but that's not something you can manufacture. The Holy Spirit must enliven your heart. We invited him in, with tears we plead for new hearts to trust Him and progress again spiritually. And God answered. He really, really did. It was just over a week before Jonathan left, but God did do that. And with us being apart, we are using this time to seek Him indivudually and work on putting Him first in our days, and going to Him first with our needs. I think the timing of the separation was fore-ordained by Him to solidify our reliance on Him.

So, that said, we have had to take down the guards we'd placed all around our hearts and minds. We have had to just open up, thank God for the baby, and pray with faith that come January we'll have a baby in our home. We've had to live with faith too: buying a crib, painting a nursery, buying baby clothes. After we'd lost the first baby, sometimes those things we'd done or said in expectation just cut deeper into the hurt, and so you're left really afraid to do anything you'll have to un-do later. But eventually, it's a part of the progression of hope and expectation and faith. So, we are moving forward. It still takes my breath away at times when I think of the future, when I have a fear come into my heart. But, little by little I pray to overcome those and just live with faith.

Those are just some of the myriad of thoughts and experiences we've had throughout this pregnancy. We still have quite a few weeks/months ahead of us, but for now we rejoice and praise God again and again for what He has done, and what He is doing, and we pray for the child's heath and life to be sustained all the way to birth.

7 week Ultrasound

Well... we went in Wednesday for the 7 week appointment. I was scared the baby might not be alive. Afterall, I'd had two cramps the evening before, and cramps send me into panic mode.

Ah, but no.... I caught the little "flashing" on the screen. Baby measuring 7weeks 0days (exactly what it should be). Heart rate 140. Wow. Could we be this fortunate?

After the ultrasound I had to have the regular OB first timers visit. It was weird! Most of the conversation with the midwife was about the nuchal fold test & triple screen, delivery options, forming a birth plan, and how good I'd feel in the 2nd trimester. I kept sitting there, wanting to interrupt her, telling her it was too early to talk about this. That she should save her time until it's certain I get that far. I know, that's terrible. But I do not take even one day of this baby's life for granted that it'll go on. The conversation was just so unexpected. Even Jonathan agreed to how weird it was. We assumed with pregnancy #1 = baby. This time, no such assumptions. Every day a blessing, a milestone, an accomplishment, a relief.

I have to wait 4 weeks to go in again. Booooooooooo. Then they'll try to hear the heartbeat with the doppler. If they don't get it, we'll do an ultrasound. She did tell me if I started to get too worried/paniced, they'd gladly have me come in earlier to do an ultrasound. It's reassuring I have her blessing on that, because I honestly can't see waiting a month and not going crazy.

And lastly.... just a little remembrance. Without any difference than any other day, June 3rd came and went. Our first baby's due date. That thought is sad, but being pregnant right now at least gives me a new perspective and some hope for anothe child. I try to focus on the possibilities ahead of me, while remembering what we've been through to get here. I miss that child not being in our life right now, but I am grateful to have renewed hope beating away inside me. I'm grateful God has given us Life for now. So very very grateful.

A Milestone Reached

Today was a milestone. I completed a day in this pregnancy when my last one ended. The last baby I lost 6w4d in the evening. Today I'm 6w5d and feeling good. The intense pains I've had over the last 2 weeks have generally subsided (determined by ultrasound to be caused by enlarged ovaries and lots of cysts and fluid from IVF). I have never had a single cramp (Praise God!), although the pains had me fearing a tubal ectopic (since IVF increases your chances of that to 3-5%).

Anyway, it's been so hard enjoying anything about this pregnancy as I have so worried about losing this one too. I kept thinking if I got to certain milestones, I'd stop fearing. Apparently fear is always there. It's a daily battle. Hourly at times. But I keep fighting. Praying. Asking for help.

I'm overwhelmed by all your love (not surprised, just overwhelmed). I appreciate ANY of the continued prayers - we feel so in need of them for this to keep progressing and this baby to grow. Literally. Thank you so much.

One more day until the 7 week ultrasound, where I can get the heartbeat measured, and we can determine growth accomplished since last week. Praying so hard it's good news.

Open Letter

(*Note, I did not create this piece of writing. I do not think I have the courage to write such thoughts down. But the sentiments are mine, and would be those of any woman sturggling with years of infertility and a recent miscarriage.*)

To the many expectant and soon-to-be expectant mothers in my life (with love):

I know this is a very special time for you – a time filled with excitement, anticipation and unbounding love for your baby soon to enter the world. This time is for you – a chance to celebrate, to contemplate, to prepare. This is your moment to delight in the joy of expectancy, to embrace the promise of parenthood, to exude radiance. To rejoice in feeling life grow inside with every fluttering heartbeat, every kick. Soon you will enter the sacred sisterhood of women who become mothers, forever transforming their lives. Soon your arms will hold new life, as you bask in the warm glow of your child’s beaming eyes. Soon your heart will fill when you hear his/her laughter, the tight grasp around your finger. You will marvel at the wondrous little being you created out of love, in an act more natural than any in the world.

And yet. As you enter perhaps the most magnificent time in your life, we are finding our way through crisis, trying to navigate a life-altering journey with persistence and grace. We don’t know where it will lead us, how it will end. Our future is uncertain. I don’t expect many people to understand what we are going through. But I would hope that you would try to appreciate that it is real. It is crushing. It underlies and permeates every aspect of our lives, everything we do. As impossible as it is to imagine, as hard as it is to see, and as challenging as it is to live, it is our life and our story. And it is staggering. Such a primal urge, a natural instinct, a deep desire – unmet, unfilled, unlived…

The truth is, unless you’ve experienced the deep sorrow of repeated failures or a devastating loss in your quest for a child, I don’t think you can know what I feel. Unless your dreams for a family have been shattered time after time, no matter how hard you pray or will them to come true, you can’t know the tremendous sorrow that lives deep in my heart. Unless you’ve been defeated by the consistent betrayal of your own body, unless you’ve felt broken to the core, you can’t know the ache of my empty womb as time moves on…

But as my friend and loved one, I would hope that you can open your heart and mind to try to appreciate where I’m coming from, where I am. That you can understand I may need time and space to heal, to deal. That you will not take it personally or take offense. That with love and compassion you might try to understand this is not about you. (I know, I said before it’s all about you, but this part is about me.) I sincerely hope you can accept that my actions and emotions reflect my own affliction, and not my feelings about you or your child.

I will wholly embrace your baby into this world with blessings and an open heart. But just as my joy for you is not diminished by my own suffering, my pain is not diminished by sharing your joy. My heart still aches, my arms long to be filled, and my womb lies empty, still…

Perhaps we’re both incapable of seeing beyond our own experience at this moment in time. Understandable. But as I find joy in my heart for you in my time of crisis, please have compassion in your heart for me in your time of joy.

God of Miracles & Thoughts

My friend Anna, who I've mentioned on here before, called me yesterday. She told me, "I'm here to say God is a God of miracles." Now, coming from her, that's what her very life is a testimony of. She has had cancer twice(Hodgkins Lymphoma Stage IV - cancer of the lymphatic system) by the time she was 21. She pursued many avenues of treatment. The first time low-dose chemo plus a miracle took it completely away. Yet within 2 years is was back. This time it took taking her immune system down to nothing (read: isolation & white blood count of zero) to harvest & transplant back her own stem cells. Years of fighting this, immense pain, praying, hoping, and hanging on... With the cancer gone the second time, the Lord brought a husband into her life (a longtime friend), Glenn. With Anna back to health, the lingering effect of the cancer on her was devastating: she was told her body had already gone through menopause and she would not produce any eggs normally for a pregnancy to ensue. She is one of 10 kids herself and loves children (spending months in Romania ministering to orphans). Yet she still prayed. She and I have prayed and cried many hours for one another in this common desire.

About a month ago, while being prayed over, God gave her a specific child to pray for - Faith Joy. So she did. And within this time-frame, God has poured out His love for her and Glenn and given them this longed-for pregnancy! God is a miracle-worker. She is evidence of that in numerous ways! And so we rejoice with her for this! She has been my prayer-target, when I've felt hopelessly burdened with my load, I have cried out for her, as I did for my friend Lis. And God has answered both those cries. I guess I need a new prayer-target now. Yes.

So though it's not me, God has shown a miracle this day. And as part of my family, I rejoice for my sister Anna and God's working!!
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Aside from that, I have been thinking. Not long ago, someone posted about a charming little tradition of writing out the year's events on an ornament to hang. My frist thought, though, was about how that tradition is only quaint when the years have been blissful. I quickly figured 2007 could say: "IVF, Dead Baby, Granddaddy's Altzhimers, 'Unspoken Devastation', Step-Grandmother's Cancer/Stroke". I was glad we'd never had such a tradition. And then, realizing it could say much worse, I made a point to think it could also say: "GA move, Buying Our First House, Stuart's college graduation, Michael/Carter's HS graduation, Fred courting Mary, Achieving Pregnancy, Bahamas Cruise, 7 yrs at my incredible job, 3 yrs of marriage, 34 yrs of marriage for Dad&Mom, Suzanne's Great Semester at PCC, 2 beautiful healthy-nieces...etc"

My point? Though there are some serious things that have been unbelievably painful this year, there have been many more things to praise the Lord for. So even through the blinding-tears I have right now, I will praise the Lord for the "blessings" and the heart-wrenchingly painful times, because He Loves Us. That's a truth no event changes.

(P.S. I remain very scared of posting either my peaks or pitfalls. I am afraid if I post too much of my pain that I'll be ignored and thought faithless, childish, and ungrateful. I am afraid if I post of the encouragement I receive in my spirit, everyone will breathe a sigh of relief that I'm finally all right and have "gotten over" it. I know there's a balance, I've yet to find it. Thank you unspeakably Juli,Karen,Lisi&Susi for the emails/comments. Responses soon.)

More Quotes

If you aren't fond of reading quotes, I apologize. But when I simply can't put into words the depths of pain and questions and confusion that are in my heart, this is all I can offer right now. Take them as my words, because they speak what I cannot.

“Bridge players tell me that there must be some money on the game, ‘or else people won’t take it seriously.’ Apparently it’s like that. Your bid – for God or no God, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity – will not be serious if nothing much is staked on it. And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high, until you find that you are playing not for counters or for sixpences but for every penny you have in the world. Nothing less will shake a man – or at any rate a man like me – out of his merely verbal thinking and his merely notional beliefs. He has to be knocked silly before he comes to his senses. Only torture will bring out the truth. Only under torture does he discover it himself.” -C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

"Christ says ‘Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torture your natural self, but to kill it. No half measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don’t want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked – the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.’
That is why He warned people to ‘count the cost’ before becoming Christians. ‘Make no mistake,’ He says, ‘if you let me, I will make you perfect. The moment you put yourself in My hands, that is what you are in for. Nothing less, or other, than that. You have free will, and if you chose, you can push Me away, understand that I am going to see this job through. Whatever suffering it may cost you in your earthly life, whatever inconceivable purification it may cost you after death, whatever it costs Me, I will never rest, nor let you rest, until you are literally perfect – until my Father can say without reservation that He is well pleased with you, as He said He was well pleased with Me. This I can do and will do. But I will not do anything less.’" -C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Quote

In Piper's Suffering and the Sovereignty of God, one of the chapters is written by a man whose son was born premature and lived only 20 minutes. He had some piercing observations that just bring me to tears with how true they are right now. No one likes to talk to or be around someone who is sad or suffering very long (I've seen this). It makes them confront the fact that if my suffering is not a punishment or explainable, they too may one day feel the pain. It's scary and uncomfortable. And yet, my life right now is one of suffering, trials, and brick wall after brick wall. When we think we've had all the trials heaped upon us we're ready to bear up under, something else comes like a swift blow and I'm left dizzy with the implications. It's just a time of intense hardship. A season, perhaps. But here's the book's quote:

“I believe this avoidance of grief in our culture results from not knowing how to deal with pain. We get uncomfortable when we hear people question God. We like to give easy answers to try to minimize the pain. When someone says that they feel God has forsaken them, we think we must quickly preach the truth that he will never leave us or forsake us (Heb 13:5), or they will fall away and lose their faith.
Part of the problem is that we do not see such pain and deep grief as normative in the Christian life. Yes, we all know that suffering is normative, but we don’t take the time to really talk about the pain involved in suffering. After all, it isn’t suffering if it doesn’t hurt.
When we read about great saints of the past, we hear about their suffering, which is immediately followed by their triumph through Christ. Rarely do we truly enter with them into their dark night of the soul, when all around them nothing makes sense. "

He then tells the story of nineteenth-century theologian Robert Dabney, who lost his two sons at different times. He said, "The great truths of the Gospel fell flat after his second son died and he remined 'numb, downcast, almost without hope and interest.' He says this makes us uncomfortable! Yet he DID triumph later & God carried him through faithfully. But he says, "Let us not so quickly go from the affliction to the deliverance and thus minimize the pain in between. God's promises of deliverance does not mean that he will immediately deliver us. For many, deliverance only comes with death."

Now & Our Story

Two weeks now. Two long weeks since we lost our baby. I wanted to write more in depth about that fateful night, but before going into that I would like to say something first. Amazingly, after a horrible first week, this last week has been much better. Better in that I am now able to receive some measure of hope and peace in my heart. Each day the first week there was something that came to remind me we weren't alone in sorrowing, we were remembered. It helped just to know that when I felt too overwhelmed to choke out anything in my prayers but tears, somehow other believers were lifting us up.

I took some time one evening to specifically seek out Truth, Biblically and Intellectually, about suffering. Outside at Starbucks alone, I read A Greif Observed, the chapters 'Is Christianity Hard or Easy' and 'Counting the Cost' in Mere Christianity, the chapter 'Waiting for the Morning during the Long Night of Weeping' in Suffering and the Sovereignty of God (written by a man whose son died shortly after birth). I gained fresh perspective, again having the truths I knew made unambiguous in my mind again. I had all the tools for battle and had been given fresh vision, yet I felt so weary knowing we're still in the trenches. God still requires much of us. But he knows how frail and weak I am, and without shame I can tell Him I don't feel I have the mental energy and spiritual stamina for this battle. He will be gracious not to rebuke, but to enable. Just a little at a time though, I know enough to be aware God wants a daily reliance on Him to be the cornerstone of my existance.

So, whoever has prayed for us, the Lord is answering. I can't thank you enough. I feel a bit shy sometimes that we need SO much prayer, but that is pride.

So, without further drivel, I wanted to tell our story. It is sad, but I'm not depressed in writing it.

Two weeks ago today Jonathan woke at 5 so he could go hunting. I reset the alarm for 7 and slept until then. I didn't feel great upon waking, I had a sore throat that threatened to become worse. Once up I showered, took my vitamins, ate breakfast and started about cleaning the house. Feeling better and especially productive, I pulled out the vacuum. It was terribly hard pushing it and I felt I shouldn't be vacuuming. But I did. I brewed myself a pot of tea and started about writing my cousin Lauren a letter. Jonathan walked in midway through it, so I set it aside.

I really don't recall what we did that day. We may have gone out for some errands. We definitely just had a relaxing and fun Satruday with each other. I think I practiced shooting arrows on my brand new bow outside in the target. We agreed to fix "breakfast for dinner" together. Around 6 we started preparing an English fry up, hash browns, cheese grits, and so on. We set a table outside on the patio and ate. It was a lovely 70 degrees and balmy and we enjoyed it so much. We were so happy to be pregnant and living our lives together. We felt good. Toward the end of the dinner the cramps started again with force. I mentioned them to Jonathan and he insisted on my laying down while he cleaned. That's when I headed to the bathroom and found the shocking, horrifying, scary blood. Not much, but any amount in pregnancy is reason for worry. I tried to tell myself it could be nothing, but I couldn't just let it be. I called the ob and was told it was normal in early pregnancy. My ultrasound was scheduled for Tuesday, but they said I could try to get in Monday morning. She mentioned that if I was really in trouble I could go to the ER and get an ultrasound.

Well, I knew the night was already ruined in terms of my mental wellbeing. I told Jonathan I would not rest assured even if I stopped bleeding unless I got an ultrasound. So off we went shortly after 7 to the hospital.

At the hospital I expected a wait. It took 3 hours until we were called back to a room of our own. In that cold waiting room, we watched football, Jonathan dozed, yet I don't recall a single thing but unnerving fear in the pit of my stomach. I'd go to that small, cramped bathroom every half hour and find blood still there, but so little. I kept hope against hope that things were ok. Maybe I'd exerted myself too much. I had cramps that were getting intense. I began timing them and at worst they came every 5 minutes, at best every 37. Though I wouldn't admit it, I was having contractions.

As we got our room, again it took hours to be seen. I got blood drawn at 11. Cramps, doubling me over in pain, came and went. I stopped watching the clock. We hardly talked. I continued to see blood, sometimes more and sometimes less. Every time I returned from the bathroom, Jonathan would ask how things were. I kept hoping.

Around 1am I went to the bathroom... As cramps came painfully, something slipped from my body... Our little one (I assume it was only one, I really am not totally sure, it could have been two). You don't have to look, but this is a picture of what a 6 weeks old fetus is.... Yeah. So sad. I came out, calm and unbelieving, and told Jonathan, "I think I just miscarried our baby" and I showed him. He cringed and grabbed me in a hug. I just kept hoping, saying "Maybe there are twins and one is ok." I knew it was unlikely, but I just couldn't believe it would be all over.

We quietly waited and in 10 minutes were wheeled to the ultrasound room. The lady said she'd been waiting half an hour for us. I didn't care, I knew seeing it earlier would not change the outcome. As she started taking pictures, I didn't know what to think. I knew I didn't see her measure a heartbeat. I've never seen an ultrasound of my uterus, so I didn't know what to look for. I've seen hundreds of my ovaries, but never this. I didn't think I saw a baby, though. She couldn't tell us anything, but had to send the pictures to a dr in India. Said we'd hear back in an hour. I remember feeling dread being wheeled back to the room. We waited, not long it seemed. The doctor came in and I think I prompted her with, "Bad news?" so she'd have a way to break it. She said, "Well, we didn't see a yolk sac or fetal pole or heartbeat. Your HCG is already at 42. I'm sorry." Tears just streamed down my face. I don't know what Jonathan did or said. The doctor asked if I wanted an exam, but I said no, I just wanted to get out of there. She told me I should, and I just didn't care. I remember lieing there and just weeping, tears pouring down into my hair, not hearing her go on about how I'd get pregnant again and I just needed to relax and not think about it. I gave her the remains of the baby, so they could do karotyping on it if possible. She told me to wait for her to give me discharge papers.

As she left the room, Jonathan and I just grabbed one another and cried. It felt like a Biblical mourning and weeping aloud. I remember hating seeing this hurt him. I said something dumb about not needing to cry anymore. I just wanted to be gone. I said, "I want to leave, get away from here" and Joanthan agreed. I dressed, but we had to wait another half hour until we were released. We drove home in mournful silence, I don't remember if I cried or not, but it would have been soft weeping. The outright angry, hurt, painful weeping was to come later. The drive took forever.

We got in bed near 3am, exhausted and dumbstruck. We didn't have a baby with us anymore. Suddenly, we had grown up so much. We now had a dead child. When did we become adults? Sleep was a mercy we both wanted, to put aside the fresh searing-hot pain this night had brought us. And so we slept.

Life...

Week #2 has started. I feel like I just lived through losing the baby. Jonathan and I were talking last night and he feels like it's been ages ago. It's just different, the long-term effect on us separately. I knew it would be and that is ok with me. He is over his grief for the most part while I still am experiencing it in a real way.

Have you every had two delicately chained necklaces somehow get thrown too quickly back into your jewelry box, only to pay for it later when you tried to retrieve them? They're a tangled mess, compounded if they look alike. I used to be the go-to girl in my family for tangled necklaces. I'd diligently labor over those things with my fingernails (well, as a violinist, my left hand had none), untangling it piece by piece. In under an hour, I'd have the necklaces separated and a very happy sister. Even in marriage, I've translated that into helping my husband with fishing wire and a very tangled net... No cutting, just long hard work.

Well, I've discovered my feelings over this miscarriage are much like two tangled necklaces. I discovered I am actually grieving TWO things. The immediate grief, sorrow, and hurt was over losing over baby, our baby's death, never knowing what our baby looked like, never getting to hold it, the hopes of this pregnancy destroyed, losing our firstborn.... This is expected, understood. Anyone who has lost a child in-utero has felt this I think.

But after living through my first week of realizing our baby's death, my feelings the second week turned different. The cutting grief wasn't the same. I was... depressed (something I'm not sure I've ever experienced in my whole life). I was able to cook and do laundry and work again. But the house brought a deep-seated gloom over me. Quiet thoughts turned dark. I wasn't crying as much, but it was so hard to keep from a creeping saddness over me. I wondered why I should be depressed, when I know our baby has now never known sin, never been separated from Christ, and is being cared for by the one who loved it so much He gave His life for it.... And then I saw the second chain... I began to untangle the different emotions...

I was depressed because of what it took to get pregnant. Twenty-six months to get that baby... 7 medicated cycles, three of them IUIs, one of them IVF. 17 retrieved eggs, 8 embryos with only 3 (for now) surviving (the two we transferred, the one that froze). A few thousand dollars. 31 rough, intramuscular progesterone-in-oil shots... and now the knowledge that we have a few months to try ourselves, but J's deployment will take 2-3 months from TTC and we miss out on WH's Jan IVF cycle, so we wait until May. So there is my secondary grief. Actually, I don't grieve over that, I'm just depressed looking at all it may take to even get pregnant agian. But weren't we lucky? IVF #1 worked. That doesn't mean IVF #2 will. I keep forgetting not to assume that.

So, last night I called a dear sister and friend. She knows the pain of IF plus miscarriage. I knew from emails that even with a new baby she still grieves those two lost babies and misses them. So I talked to her about the new emotions. And she listened and validated what I'll feel. She talked about how normal these stages are. She let me talk about our baby (which I want to so much!). She talked about hers. It just helped give me a feeling that I'm not so alone or so crazy or so obsessed. It's ok to think and talk about our child and how afraid I am of what it'll take to get another one to stick around. But one we've talked, we recognize God's goodness, provision, and continual grace to handle every trial that comes our way. And handling does not mean ignoring!

I got off and talked to Jonathan, that's when he told me he doesn't grieve anymore. And I didn't feel sorry for myself, we are opposite and complimentary, and one's weakness is the other's strength. I know his new emotions don't mean he doesn't care. Not in the least. I'm glad we can talk. He doesn't thinking I'm prolonging my pain. He doesn't think I'm dwelling on it for my purposes. I talked about the hardship of my tangled necklaces of miscarriage with IF.

So, as a sweet grace of God, I don't feel depressed today. I know He hears the cries of my heart, our prayers, and He gives new mercies every single morning. Sometimes the mercies look different and don't feel enough, but at the end of the day, I look and know they were sufficient. Just like He promised.

I have appreciated every comment, email, and other sweet things (notes, flowers, scriptures, calls, book recommendations). They have been kind reminders that we're loved and we're not alone. We have a family of dear believers surrounding us, loving & praying for us. We need this so very much! I can't imgaine having gone through everything without everyone's kindness, love and prayers. We are so undeserving, but thank you.

It's Now 48 Hours After Our Trial Began

Well, I've had two mornings to wake up now in my un-pregnant state.

I miscarried about 1am Saturday night/Sunday morning, and we got home from the ER about 3am. I awoke that morning at 7 and for the first time faced the reality: I had no baby in me anymore. I was not sustaining another life. I was not pregnant. The reality of this was overwhelming - I carried this deep down feeling of hope against hope that this was a horrible nightmare - maybe it wasn't real! And yet, nothing changed the truth! I had lived through the previous night. I had bled, cramped, and passed my sweet baby. This was all very real. Yesterday was so hard. Everytime I get a hold of myself for a few minutes, I find myself unexpectedly weeping and feeling this crushing grief all over again. It hurts even more seeing my husband cry. Seeing the anguish on his face. Watching him clench his fists and cry for only me to see. Knowing this grief does not affect just me.

I hate the word miscarriage, because in not even the slightest way does it communicate the depths of what was lost. Not a pregnancy - a BABY. A child with Jonathan's features and mine, one of our own making. Our own child we will never see, never know, never even hold. How did I not know the utter unrelenting hurt would feel this way? You just don't know until you've been though it. We loved that baby from the moment WH called and told us we had 8 embryos. From the time 2 were placed in me, I was caring for them. We prayed for them every day, Jonathan would put his hand on my stomach and kiss it and tell them they were loved. These were real children. We have lost our firstborn.

I tried to go about my life today. J had to work. I theoretically didn't. I packed up all my progesterone, needles, estrogen, and positive tests yesterday and put it in the bag with all this IVF cycle's drugs. I will not throw it away, but it needs to be out of sight for now. I want to do something to remember this child. There are some beautiful charms I found online that I think I'll get. Jonathan gave me a charm bracelet when we were courting that had a heart and our initials on it... rather as a promise we'd get through it and get married. So it's special to me and I want to remember our baby. We loved it and we'll never have another firstborn.

Grief and sadness catch me at every turn. I'll be fine and then receive an email from someone - perhaps with more details than I ever knew about their life and previous losses. Everyone's kindness and prayers have humbled me... and I'm so grateful to not be alone. I can't seem to wash my face or shower without dissolving into uncontrollable sobs. Something about the water rushing over my face frees me to cry as I please.

We miss this baby so much. I anticipate a lot of grief triggers in the future... Pregnant friends, new babies, June 3rd, maybe even IVF #2 will be hard. We will get back on the list at WH for April 08 (our original slot anyway). If Jonathan weren't deploying we could take January. Until then, we'll TTC naturally, with what time we have. I don't think I'll ever stop fearing losing a baby again, though, even at full term.

In terms of God, I am not angry with Him, I do not feel mistreated. I would rather deal with the pain of losing a baby than to never have had this one. I did get pregnant. I don't know Why I've been chosen for IF and Miscarriage, but I will walk through it. I'll be real and imperfect, but I will try to let my feelings not rule what I know to be true. Which is God's character never changes. I don't always know His plans, but He calls Himself faithful, merciful, compassionate. And I believe it. I may feel far from His goodness right now, I may feel I've been given more than I can bear, but I AM bearing this, aren't I? Jonathan and I are trying to walk through all that this new trial means. I want to feel everything and hopefully heal, together. Because God means it to work for Good, in the only definition of the word that matters: His definition, not a wordly finite one.

Thank you ALL for your kind, thoughtful, sweet comments and emails. They have meant SO MUCH. I was checking my email all day yesterday, getting comfort from every little comment. Going to Life Group was feeling the Body of Christ in action. Having friends far and near lift us up in even a moment of prayer has kept our hearts I'm sure. Thank you for that. I'm not yet really good at conversations or replies, but give me a little time and I will be. Love you all.

Our Angel

Last night, at about 1am, our sweet little baby went to be with Jesus.

I had some light blood show up at 7pm with cramping, and we went to the ER to get an ultrasound. In the 7 hour wait, I miscarried our precious little one. I saw it... Yes, there had been just one. An ultrasound confirmed no fetal pole, no yolk sac. My blood HCG beta was already down to 42.

Jonathan and I are very sad and mourning our precious child in heaven, who only had a little over 4 weeks on earth in my womb. We don't doubt God, but this hurts all the more for what it took to get here. Pray for us.