Below are my raw, unedited feelings of the past couple days.  It really helped me to write them out.  I originally just planned on printing it out and putting it in my journal for only myself to see, but after sharing it with Brad and talking to him, we thought "What's the point in going through this if we keep it completely to ourselves?"  We want to be able to look back on these raw emotions someday and praise God for bringing us through this, as we know He will.  And it's easier to share with you guys how we're genuinely doing in one fell swoop instead of in short texts and multiple phone calls.

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April 20, 2013

I started out the day 11 weeks and 5 days pregnant, and am going to bed tonight with an empty womb.  And an empty heart.  Instead of joining West and us here in November, our littlest has joined its other big brother or sister with Jesus.  I can’t imagine a sweeter face to first see than God’s, but I’ll admit I’m jealous.   I’m also shocked.  Aching.  Heartbroken.  I’m clinging to God’s goodness and promises and certain that He’s aching with us and yearning to comfort us.

Yesterday we had a routine prenatal appointment.  The nurse couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat using the Doppler, so another nurse tried, and then the doctor – all with no luck.  We didn’t worry because we knew it was a bit early and the same thing happened with us at this same appointment when pregnant with West.  Though they all reassured us that it is probably just that it’s too early to hear the heartbeat with the Doppler, they got us in as quick as they could to have an ultrasound.  While waiting, I wasn’t anxious in the slightest.  In fact, I was actually a bit happy they couldn’t find the heartbeat because we’d get to see our little gummy bear baby jumping around on the screen – just like we did with West.  At our prenatal appointment just 4 weeks earlier, we had seen our baby with a strong heartbeat and perfect measurements.  At that point our risk of miscarriage dropped dramatically, plus I had no cramping or spotting and all my symptoms (besides nausea, which went away at 9 weeks) were still strong.  Everything had to be fine, right?  Surely we wouldn’t suffer two miscarriages in a row, right?  Surely not – everything is fine.

But as soon as the ultrasound technician started the ultrasound, our hearts dropped.  Where we were so confidently expecting to see our big, dancing gummy bear was a small, still baby with no flickering of a little heart.  Oh how my heart stared at that screen and begged that sweet baby to move.  To dance.  To be alive.  I cried out in shock and disbelief as Brad grabbed my hand and the technician started apologizing.  Tears flowed.  Our baby was gone and had stopped growing at 9 weeks and 1 day (the same day in our last pregnancy that we found out we had lost that baby).  She showed us how there should be color on the screen where the umbilical cord was giving nutrients to the baby, and how big the baby would be if it was measuring as it should, and then she zoomed in and showed us where the heart should be, but wasn’t, flickering.  She did these things not to torture us, but so we would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that our baby was no longer here with us. 

I got cleaned up in the bathroom and sobbed.  Then came out and hugged Brad and cried.  The technician took us back to a room to visit with the doctor and there, before the doctor came in, we held each other and sobbed.  How could this be happening?  Again?  This time everything looked perfect!  Why, Lord, why?    

The doctor came in and we discussed our options.  First, what is going on here?  Should we start doing testing?  We decided against it at this point.  Praise God we have carried one healthy baby to term, we’re still young, and we’ve gotten pregnant very easily three times now.  We discussed that if, God forbid, we would lose a third baby, we’d do testing at that point.  We will,  however, start monitoring certain things more closely and more often when, Lord willing, we get pregnant again.  Then we discussed what we need to do now.  Wait for my body to naturally miscarry the baby or have a D&C?  After going through a natural miscarriage a few short months ago, I knew how painful and traumatic it was both emotionally and physically.  And that was when my body was prepared to do it.  This time, we couldn’t bear the thought of waiting for my body to be ready and then going through that again.  We decided it would be best for us, in this case, to have the D&C as soon as possible so we could start the grieving and healing process. 

With the only surgery I’ve ever had being wisdom teeth extraction, I was nervous about the procedure on top of grieving and coming to terms with our loss.  I was supposed to shower last night and this morning with anti-bacterial soap and use or wear no lotions, jewelry, etc.  I couldn’t eat or drink a single thing after midnight.  I would have to have an IV, be put completely under anesthesia, be intubated, and potentially risk damage to my uterus, complicating any future pregnancies.  Plus I have studied in undergrad and grad classes the absurd amount of deadly hospital-acquired infections and have witnessed first-hand my dad almost lose his leg due to an infection from a “routine” procedure.  So needless to say, I had quite a bit of anxiety.  But God, Brad, some great hospital staff, and prayers of many lifting us up got us through, and the D&C appeared to have gone as well as possible this morning.  West spent the day having the time of his life with his aunt, uncle, and 4 boy cousins, leaving Brad to focus on caring for me post-op.  That was such a blessing, especially since the anesthesia hit me hard and I wasn’t really able to eat or hardly get up at all until this evening. 

I’ve spent a lot of time yesterday and today praying and pouring over scripture.  While this miscarriage completely blind-sided us, we know that God foresaw it at the beginning of time and is hurting with us and longing to hold us close.  We trust in God’s promises – that He did not cause this, that He has never left our side, that He will use this to strengthen and mature our faith, that our babies are in a place with their Heavenly Father where there is no more death or dying or crying or pain, and that we will see them there someday and will love on them and hold them for eternity. 

But our hearts still ache so much that it’s hard to breathe, and if this experience will be anything like our last, I’m afraid it will get harder before it gets easier.  As easy as it is to trust God at the beginning, it’s hard to do on a daily – or harder yet, moment-by-moment – basis.  But we know that if we want to grow from this, we have to push through, clinging to Him throughout until we emerge on the other side.  Time will also help.  The pain will always be there I’m sure, but it is not pain without a purpose or without a promise on the other end. 

As much as we want a baby brother or sister close in age to West, we plan to take longer this time to grieve and heal – emotionally and physically.  After being pregnant for almost five of the last six months, we need a break.  We trust that in His perfect timing we will become a family of four, and that when that next baby is finally in our arms we won’t be able to imagine it any other way.

Until we meet in heaven, sweet babies, save us a seat at Jesus’ feet as He rocks you in His arms.  We can’t wait to meet you there.

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"I will never forget this time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, “'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!'” – Lamentations 3:19-24 (NLT)

“Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up… and comfort me once again… I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.  My mouth will tell of your righteousness, of your salvation all day long, though I know not its measure.” – Psalm 71:20-21, 14-15 (NIV)

We covet and thank you for your prayers and support as we go through this.  We know we're not alone and are so thankful for such awesome family and friends.  Love you all.