Day 16

07/23/2015

For the first time I can say that I am excited for this weekend. I know it will be uncomfortable at times, but what isn’t these days?

Our best friends will be hosting, cause Lord knows I do not need all eyes on me trying to hold it together.

Today, I am thankful that I don’t have to try to be excited for my best friend. I actually feel happy to be able to be there and celebrate her baby and how precious that life truly is.

___________________

My follow up appointment was this morning. They had me take a pregnancy test, it was negative. My uterus is normal. Everything looks good. We don’t need to wait to try again, we can begin trying any time. I don’t know how I feel about that. On the one hand it makes me feel like my body isn’t broken and damaged. I feel like I would still have to be labeled as refurbished, like I have a salvage title. I guess that is true of us all.

It is much more terrifying than exciting, at least right now. I suppose that isn’t true, because there is no doubt in my mind that knowing what I know now… I would go through it all again; without hesitation, without reservation.  I would carry our baby again.

Day 15

07/22/2015

At this point, dreading this event on my raw emotions and nerves is absolutely draining. The thought of spending Saturday morning surrounded by my loss makes me shake. I understand that the day is not about me and that this is selfish, but I can’t separate it at this point. I keep trying to. I want to be able to celebrate her baby. I want to be able to give my emotions to others, I just feel as though I have nothing to give. I am so afraid that after I give them, I won’t have anything left to deal with my pain. 
I want to scream “don’t make me do this”.

____________________

I am on the saddest, wildest roller coaster and I desperately want to get off.

I began this morning in a state of panic about this weekend. The thought of pregnancy being front and center breaks off pieces deep inside me. I have felt every emotion today. I felt rage rising within me, I felt like I was sinking into a dark place. I have felt relief. I have felt shame and guilt. I have felt happiness. I have felt alone. I have felt betrayed. I felt utter sadness.

I lay down tonight emotionally spent. But very thankful for friends that put me first when I don't deserve it, for friends that reassure me, for friends that take heavy burdens from me, for friends that love me during my darkest time...even in their brightest.

My head aches from tears and thoughts and worry. I lay down for bed knowing that tomorrow will be better because of today. Tonight, I know that's what God's end game is, an eternity that far outweighs the troubles of this world. A tomorrow that is better because of today.

Day 13

07/20/2015

Sometimes I just feel alone due to misconceptions.

In general, I think there is this belief that I would blame myself. That I would feel guilt, maybe some women do. It could be my science-oriented mind; it tells myself there is nothing I could have done differently. There was too much chromosomal damage for Baby to live. This was not due to anything wrong with us, but rather how the cells that made up baby divided. It is as heartbreakingly simple as that. It could also be my faith-oriented mind; it tells myself there is nothing I could have done differently. God’s plan for us and for Baby’s life was established long before we dreamt or prayed about Baby. His plan is perfect. And it is as heartbreakingly simple as that.

So, I don’t feel at fault.

Even though people try to console me as if I do. That’s always awkward. It makes me wonder if they think it is my fault.

I took vitamins, ate the right foods, exercised; I did all the right things in the right order and that doesn’t matter. I say that without any entitlement. I say it because it is the truth and it demonstrates the absolute lack of control we have and why I don’t feel guilty.

I do feel failure.

Nothing has ever been so absolutely out of my control before. It isn’t something you can work really hard at and get better. It isn’t a test you can study for and get a good grade. It isn’t a race I can train for and the outcome is based on my training and performance.  It isn’t something I can flash my resume at and hope to be chosen. There is no merit. There is no prequalification. There is no certainty. There is no control. I must say I don’t really like it. I suppose if I needed a lesson in something, it is surrender.

I would also like to stress that baby was our baby.

Baby was not just a pregnancy that we can get back “when the time is right”.

I am not mourning the fact that I am not pregnant, or that it didn’t “work out”, although those things do make me sad, I mourn our baby, a life.

Baby consumed our waking thoughts, our prayers, our conversations…ya know… like a child.

This life is not replaceable.

Ask me if we have kids, my answer is yes.

I may not have held baby in my arms, but I held Baby for every second of Baby’s life.
And I wouldn’t trade those seconds for anything.

I held you

every second of your life

                                                                     Photos by Anna Merrell Photography and Design

Day 12

07/19/2015

Michael and I went to Hermann MO for the weekend.

If there was any advice I would give to someone going through this or a situation of your own… which I would not because as previously mentioned I hate advice at this point… but maybe someone is more humble than I or someone you love is going through something and you need an idea for how to show you care. Get them out of their world. Go outside of their brokenness. Even if it is an over night stay 3 hours away from home, get away. I know it will all be there when you get back, but maybe it will look slightly different.

When we left Springfield I was angry. My face was contorted in rage. I had no love for God.  No willingness to respond to His call. Friday night I saw just how dangerous the anger is to my marriage, how quickly and easily I can lash out at the man who has held me and been my rock through it all. In one breath I cursed God, and in the next I realized how much I needed Him.

Michael rented us a cottage with luxury linens and a huge bathtub. I don’t think I could ever give enough credit to this man. The thing about being only with my husband is that I can be 100% me 100% of the time. If a word in conversation makes me sad and my eyes well up with tears, he squeezes me. If I want to talk about our baby until I am blue in the face, he hears it. If I am hurting, he is hurting. I don’t have to feel guilty for making him uncomfortable with my pain. I don’t have to feel guilty for smiling.

We spent a night and 2 days doing whatever we wanted. We drank too much wine. We napped. We ate cheese and crackers. We went for a drive through the country… because we got lost and had no service. We laughed. We cried. We hugged a lot. We slept in. We ate a ridiculous breakfast. We went to wineries. We bought 9 bottles of wine… that’s right, we took 9. We listened to that Oceans song like 20 times. The one where it says:

So I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours and You are mine

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

We talked about how deep the waters are. How we can’t believe He has called us so far out here. How the waves are so deep.

And maybe, for the first time yet, I know that this is where He has called me, and I know He is with me. I can feel His love.

Photo by Anna Merrell Photography and Design

Day 10

These dark, anger filled days are incredibly difficult to share. 
Looking back at them is hard as well.
I don't want to admit these terrible feelings I felt, how I failed as a lover of God, and as a friend; let alone allow the world to see.  
We don't show this side of ourselves to others, our utter depravity. We put on a gracious facade and act like we have never wrestled with God like Jacob or questioned God like Job. God does not need us to save ourselves. He already did. 

My weak moments point to Him, that is why I am sharing.
If you are feeling these things, I want you to know you are not alone or a failure, that is why I am sharing.
God uses our weakness, our darkness to demonstrate His overwhelming grace. 

______________________

07/17/2015

The last two days I have felt intense anger.  I want to hit something anger. I am so angry I feel disgusted with myself anger. Shaking, grit your teeth anger. I hate everything anger. Face-contorting anger. I get so overwhelmed with these feelings I have to stop in the middle of the day and put it down on paper so that I can feel a little less in my body. These were three different instances. This is just a glimpse at how emotionally filled and diverse a day in my body is.

I feel entitled. God doesn’t get to say no to me after what He has done. How dare He. He gives us the greatest joy, He allows my heart to settle into a place of comfort, and then He takes it away. Every moment of the past 10 weeks are now tainted with heartache and sadness. My chest is so heavy. I am overflowing with anger and selfish thoughts. He has thrown me into this pit and occasionally He throws down a little peace and a little hope, but these overwhelming feelings of darkness always return. I am forsaken.

______________

Hearing about pregnancy makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Please, tell me all about the things I didn’t get to experience with my first child. How all these babies are going to be born and mine is not. How can I celebrate that? How can I be happy about that?

______________

Two of my four babies showed up today. I have seen 3 this week total. That is unheard of. I don’t know why He continues to love on me when I continually turn to everyone but Him for comfort. When I am so angry at Him. I don’t know why, but God, I am so thankful.

______________

I am supposed to throw my best friend’s baby shower a week from tomorrow. Such a wonderful occasion that creates so much dread and anxiety inside me. And anger, anger that I have to do this right now. There are moments when I can see outside of my grief and outside of myself and I know that I can celebrate this life, this life I am going to love so much and I am so thankful that her baby is growing and healthy and that she doesn’t have to go through this. That, I can celebrate, but the thought of a day devoted to talk about pregnancy and babies all around me, a day I have to host, makes me ache to the core. When I think about all the joy and excitement that will fill the house that day I picture myself barely making it out before absolutely crumbling.

I don’t want to be that person; that person that can’t stand to see other people’s happiness.  That person that alienates their friends because of what they do not have. I do not want to be bitter. I want to be gracious and loving and more like Jesus.

Then I realize that I lost my baby 8 days ago and I am not sure I can be those things just yet.

Day 8

07/15/2015

One week ago today we were taking a late 9-week picture.

One week ago today I felt something different while seeing my 10 am patient, something wrong. I quickly went to the restroom and faced a fear I had since I saw those two little lines. The rest of my patients were cancelled; they were told I was sick. We spent the rest of the day waiting. I was pleading with God not to take my baby. I finally called my parents when we were scheduled for an ultrasound; I was so scared, utterly terrified. By 4 pm, we knew baby was home.

This morning I was filled with anxiety as 10 am drew closer. I was unsure if I would be able to make it through the session. Ten a.m. came and went and my patient didn’t show. As much as I love my kiddos, God provided.

By noon I was struggling. I felt alone. I was in physical and emotional pain.

My 1 p.m. mom asked me if I was feeling better from being out sick. I did the craziest thing, I told her the truth. I told her that last week I was pregnant, and now, I am not. She showed pain for my pain, she provided words of comfort; she hugged me.

My 2 p.m. mom asked me about fostering, and again, I told her the truth. She cried for my baby, for my pain. She hugged, a deep loving hug. She told me I was a blessing. She grieved with me. She said she would pray for me. She told her kids that they were going to go to the car and pray for me.

My 3 p.m. dad was standing there as I spoke with my previous patient’s mom; he said how sorry he was for my loss, how they had experienced their own loss as well, and that he would pray for me.

While I was writing my notes around 4 p.m., my 2 p.m. mom came with flowers and tears in her eyes and deep hugs. We cried together. It was the most thoughtful, loving gesture by someone who only knows a part of me. I was so deeply touched by this act of comfort. The flowers were purple, baby’s birthstone would have been purple.

I wept when I returned to my desk, and my coworker held me and cried too. We talked about baby and our family’s hurt. She listened so lovingly.

I did something crazy today. I was honest. I bared my deepest pain. When people ask how I am, I hope they truly care, because it is so difficult for me to hide this overwhelming heartache.

Today, a terribly hard day, I shared with people my pain and they took it upon themselves and offered me comfort and love and, most importantly, prayers. God provided. 

Day 7

I wrote this two months ago when I returned to work. I haven't edited it. 

I do not share it with the intentions of shaming others. Posting this now is not about acknowledgement for me.
I share it to demonstrate the fact that the loss of unborn life is not talked about. Because of that, people don't know what to do or say. I cannot and do not fault others for that.
I share so that WE all might love those who are hurting better. 

_____________

07/14/2015

I went back to work today. I woke up so scared; scared of what people would say that might make me uncomfortable, things that parents would say that would unknowingly make me ache, holding and caring for other people’s babies, and remembering the panic I felt as I left there 6 days ago. Today would have been our first doctor’s appointment; I had eagerly waited for this date since we made the appointment on May 28. Now, I dread this day.

I prayed on my way there for courage, strength, and grace. I was shaking as I walked to my desk. I sat down with everything exactly as I had left it 6 days ago and I felt utter panic, unsure I could do this day.

I had been so scared about what people would say to me, I never thought about them not saying anything.

People were walking and talking around me and not meeting my eye as if they were scared of me, like they could catch what I have: heartache. Acting as if nothing happened makes me ache the most; to not address the fact that I lost a child.

People don’t know what to say; they don’t want to say something that pains me or makes me sadder. But the real truth is that the sadness doesn’t go away and there isn’t a larger category. It isn’t as if you are going to “remind me”, it doesn’t leave me. It is all I think about. The answer is not to ignore this huge, cataclysmic event that has immensely changed our life and me. Acknowledge our loss; acknowledge our baby. Let me feel something, let me be sad. Don’t be so scared of feeling uncomfortable yourself that you do nothing.

In all my worrying about what people would say, I didn’t realize how much it meant for them to say something. If you don’t have words, say that. If nothing else, tell me, show me, that you are sorry for my loss.

I went to work prepared to graciously accept acts of comfort and love. I found that I had to initiate it. I know that my coworkers love me. I know that their silence was not out of lack of concern or sympathy, but rather an attempt to not increase or highlight my pain. But it made me feel so… alone.

As soon as I was overwhelmed with the feeling of being alone and anger for lack of comfort, I received constant texts from people checking in on me and praying for me and encouraging me. God didn’t leave me there.

I realized today how little this is talked about and it makes me want to scream. A life is not something to be ignored. A baby is to be loved and celebrated, and when lost, a baby is to be mourned, regardless of age. If you know about it, tell me you are sorry for our loss. If you don’t know about it, I’m not afraid to tell you. (Well, that’s a lie.) But, why?

Why do we shove the joy they brought us under the rug? Why do we hide our grief and act as if we don’t feel like we are dying ourselves? Why are we ashamed? Why are we so scared of people who are hurting? Besides the obvious fact that these words break my heart... Why is it so hard for us to say:

I am mom. I lost my baby. I am still a mom. I have one child. My child is with Jesus.

Day 6

I dreaded peoples' reaction to my loss. I dreaded their words, that they would dismiss the life of my baby and our grief. I share this now not to place guilt on the hearts of people who offered me encouragement, but in order that we all might learn how to better love the hurting. 

Please believe me when I say that above all, I have felt incredibly loved. 

_______________________

07/13/2015

Michael went back to work today. I cleaned today. Leisurely, methodically cleaned every room and surface in the house. I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I didn’t have to think about anything that I didn’t want to. I didn’t have to smile. I had the power to make something look and feel new. A power I do not possess to use on myself. I was in control.

I spent a few hours with my dad. Between my dad, two older brothers, and now Michael, I have always felt pretty safe. The thing about men is that when they see a problem, they want to fix it. And when it comes to this little girl hurting, they must fix it. My dad has been very good about encouraging me to brush my teeth and comb my hair. He insists that good hygiene will make me feel better. I suppose I cannot argue with that. At the heart of the issue is the fact that this problem cannot be fixed. I cannot be fixed. I have to feel the anguish and the sorrow. I can’t skip it. I have to sit in it. 

My dad asked me if anything would make me feel better, what I would want him to say.

Maybe it is just me, but there are a few things I dread hearing:

“It will get better with time.”

            Right now, I feel like I am treading water. I can’t even see land.

"God has a plan." "Everything happens for a reason." "God is in control."

            I believe in God’s sovereignty. I know these things to be true. I don’t care about His plan right now. It sucks. It will bring me comfort later, not today. I am dealing with God and He is dealing with me. 

“You need to…”

            I do not want your advice.

“In my experience…”

            See above.

“At least you can get pregnant.”

            I LOST MY CHILD. There is no at least.

“In a couple months you can try again.”

            I will mourn this life. This baby is not replaceable. This life deserves recognition.

Any talk of the future at all.

            Right now, I need to experience this. Hope will come.

“It will get a little better every day..”

            That scares the hell out of me. Right now I can’t comprehend not being broken about baby. I hate it.

“Don’t worry, it will happen.”

            A baby happened. A life happened. I am heart broken that my baby died, I am not worried that I will never have kids.

"It is probably better this way."

            Obviously God's plan is better than mine, and obviously this is terribly callous. 

“When the time is right.”

            My baby’s life didn’t succumb to bad timing.

What brings me comfort:

• Deep hugs from people being strong for me.
• My closest people sitting/laying with me, simply listening to me and crying with me.
• Taking time to check on us, it is nice to know we are on your mind and in your prayers.
• Dropping things off at the house without seeing me: cards, food, etc.
• Talking about the time we had with baby.
• Hugs.
• Meals for Michael.
• The only bible verse thrown out at me that has truly touched my heart is "Jesus wept." John 11:35.

Things people have said that have brought me comfort:

  I am sorry for your loss.

  We are grieving with you, for you.

 My heart breaks for you both. 

  There are no words.

  I lost a baby as well. There is no pain like it.

  I mourn your baby.

  I am praying for you.

 I go back to work tomorrow and I am scared about what people will say to me. My constant prayer is that I would be able to accept sympathy graciously and lovingly, even if it makes me cringe. 

Day 5

I wrote throughout the loss of our baby as a way to process my emotions. I quickly saw the way God used my writing to reveal His truth to me. 

I share this with you now so that others feeling this pain would know that they are not alone; that it is okay to cry out to God with your questions and rage. 

I share this with you now as a way for us to confront the darkness in our lives. For us to become more comfortable in it, that in doing so we might share in each others' darkness. Not so that we can empathize with one another, pat each other on the back, say clichés, and go on about our way; but that we might experience one another's pain. 

I share this in hopes that when we come in contact with someone who is hurting we might express and demonstrate compassion, joining in their grief. 

I share this in fervent prayer that God would reveal the same truth that He has shown me, to you. 

_________________________

07/12/2015 10:45 am

Today, I prayed to not be bitter; to be able to love those around me who are blessed with growing tummies and babies. I am not more entitled to a child than they are. They do not deserve a child more than I do. God loves all mothers and grows us differently.

Today, I prayed to not be filled with anger. I would rather be filled to overflowing with sadness and pain, as I am, than anger.

My baby is gone, and that needs to bring God glory. I desperately need it to. That is the way and why He planned it, and I want to be a part of it. I am instrumental to it.

Today, I am thankful He has placed these desires on my heart. Today, I am thankful He is faithful. At all times.

Today, I am heart broken and weak, but I refuse to succumb to my flesh today.

The real truth is I am not really choosing any of this, but Christ in me.

Praise God for that.

_____________________________________________________________________

07/12/2015 9:30 pm

I want to be someone else; someone who enjoys talking about work, and their house, and has interest in other people’s lives.

That person is not me. 

Because while I sit there trying to form what I remember to be a smile, all I can think about is that my baby is gone. 

The real elephant in the room is that last week I was pregnant and excited and the happiest person on earth and now I am lucky if I brush my teeth or get out of bed because everything around me pails in comparison to the pain inside my chest. I fear that if I continue to suppress the agony with this terribly uncomfortable smile that I will suffocate.

When I can finally remove the forged smile everything hurts so much and misery runs over my body and I feel like the biggest fraud.

I don’t know how to move forward without being strangled by the pain.

All the things I said this morning make me sick right now. I don’t even want to pray. I don’t want to turn my face to God. I have succumbed to the pain, to my inability to fight it off. It would seem like a perfect time to turn to God, when I absolutely cannot do it myself, and I have no desire to.

I feel deserted and have no praise within me.

Day 4

07/11/2015

When I went to bed last night, I thanked God.

But this morning when I woke up, I had to remind myself of the truth:

Baby is gone.

I am not pregnant.

Michael and I went for a drive this morning. The sun was bright. Everything was so green and so beautiful. The world is still beautiful.

I finished baby’s journal, unsubscribed to Baby Bump emails, and I checked some of my messages. And then, I didn’t feel brave anymore. I didn’t feel strong. I went back to the guest bedroom and lay in the dark in my husband’s arms, drained and weak and broken while the sun continued to shine.

Today, I feel more lost than ever.