Day 22

It has been a hard week, fighting with God about sharing this entry. 
Why do I have to share my darkest moment? 
Let others see the worst parts... 
Maybe, I can skip this part... Not all of it needs to be shared. 
But that is not the conviction God pressed upon me. He doesn't just save parts of me, He saves the ugliest parts of me. 
And so He gently pushes me;
To let others see the far reaches of His redemption, the brightness of His light. 
It is with a reluctant, yet obedient heart that I share this with you. 
So that others who I have experienced this, would know they are not alone; 
that people considering this would know the lasting devastation;
that you might be able to demonstrate compassion to someone you love, or even someone you don't;
and to demonstrate that the depth of God's mercies never fall short, even in the most desolate of places. 

07/29/2015

We got my bill today. They called it an abortion.

I don’t even have the words.

I am not condemning people. I am not passing judgement. I just can’t help but think that they must not know how terrible it is…

They must not see my baby as a life. Their baby’s heart BEATS.

…to choose this.

There are no words.

07/30/2015

Three weeks ago this morning I had my “procedure”.

We chose to have a D&C in the doctor’s office.

The doctor had told me it would take 5 minutes. Five minutes.

She said that it would feel like I was dying for 90 seconds.

I was terrified.

I woke up with part of this line from a song stuck in my head, “even if the healing doesn’t come”.

And I knew it wasn’t coming. I knew He wasn’t going to take this away.

We sat outside the doctor’s office, knowing that when we would come out our baby would be gone.

I used to think that it would creep me out, for something not alive to be inside me. But it was just the opposite. I knew baby didn’t have a heart beat. I knew baby was already with Jesus, and yet I did not want to let go. I wanted to carry baby.

It was physically painful leading up to the procedure; they gave me medicine to dilate me the night before. I could feel the clots as they passed. There was so much blood. Each was heartbreaking.

She gave me valium. I almost only took one, because I didn’t feel anxious anymore. I already felt like I was dying.  I took two.

Michael read 2 Cor. 4 to me. It was excruciating to hear His promises and to know they were true, but that meant going through this.

Michael couldn’t go back with me.

The room was covered in absorbent pads. Every surface, protected from me. I laid on the table and looked up at the light. As she began giving me the local anesthesia shots, I asked if the nurse could hold my hand. Kelly. She held my hand. I stared up at the light and said 2 Cor. 4 out loud at first and then words stuck in my throat. The 90 seconds started, and the physical pain was immense but it was no match for the pain in my heart. I sobbed as my baby left me. Kelly brushed my hair back from my forehead. I sobbed harder as the 90 seconds passed.

She asked if I was in pain, but it wasn’t any pain she could help.

When I tried to scoot up on the table, I couldn’t lift my body. I’m glad I took two.

I returned to the room, Michael helped me to the table. We wept for our child, for a life God created, for our baby’s heart that stopped beating. I wept uncontrollably. For days, I wept.

And, I’ll never be the same.