Red

08/19/2015

I woke up early this morning to run. I went into the bathroom. I sobbed as I saw red.

I knew that it would be hard. I didn’t expect for it to bring me back to that day. The first day I saw red.

I had been up most of the night with intestinal cramps due to a nutritious flax seed smoothie.  That Wednesday morning I remembered reading something about bean sprouts being bad during pregnancy, so I asked Michael to look up flax seed during pregnancy. He text me that the opinions are mixed. Cue frantic mom. My anxiety immediately increased. I called my doctor and left a message for the nurse asking if a tablespoon of flaxseed could be dangerous for baby. I could hardly focus after that, checking my phone, worrying that I had hurt baby.

During my 10 am patient I felt something different. Something I used to feel. I returned my kiddo to his momma. My next patient had already arrived. I told them I would be right back.

I walked up the hall to the restrooms. Ever since I first started begging God for those two lines, I always checked as soon as I got in the restroom. There was always a little bit of anxiety with it. That day, I saw my fear; I saw pink. “Oh no, oh no, oh no” was all I could think. God had not given me false hope. I had had no spotting.

I was shaking. Tears filled my eyes. A lump rose in my chest. My stomach turned.

As I walked upstairs, I thought to myself, “What have I done?”

I listened to a voicemail from the nurse telling me that flaxseed will not hurt the baby.

But something was wrong.

I cried telling my boss I was pregnant and needed to leave. I told my coworker I was sick and had to leave. She turned away my patient.

I went and sat outside the doctor’s office, waiting forever for the nurse to call me back. Michael joined me, and we waited.

I pleaded with God. I begged Him, sobbing, not to take my baby.

The nurse called and told us to go get blood work done. So, we did. I needed my pregnancy hormone to be over 1500 in order to get an ultrasound. We waited and prayed for a high result. We waited for her to call us back. Two hours more we waited. When she did, she said that I was 4300, that although it was reassuring she would call to see if we could get in for an ultrasound the same day. I started to hope. God hadn’t given me false hope. He had been faithful. 
We went to gas station feeling better. I went to the bathroom. I saw red.

My heart dropped and my hope was gone. Looking back, I knew then.

I then called my parents. I text my best friends.

I sat shaking, waiting for the ultrasound.

We walked back to the room. A small part of me dared to hope to hear that rhythmic sound. As she found baby, I knew baby was too small. There was no sound.

She then told us that baby was not a 10-week fetus. That the dates could be wrong and baby could be younger. She needed to do an internal ultrasound. I knew then. No false hope.

She kindly told us that baby didn’t have a heartbeat. She used the words “embryonic demise” to describe our baby. She told me it was nothing I did. That baby couldn’t develop correctly.

We wept. I felt Michael watching me. The scenes from telling our family flashed through my mind. The view of the computer screen stuck in my head with the words “embryonic demise” ringing in my ears.  She explained our options and sent us upstairs to my doctor.

We waited in the waiting room. I stared into oblivion and tried to ignore the expectant mothers and their large bellies around me. My baby is not alive.

She explained our options. We chose.

I called my parents. I spoke the worst words to ever leave my mouth. I text my best friends because I couldn’t say the words again. I turned off my phone.

I carried baby one last night.

This Wednesday morning I woke up, and I saw red. My heart ached, remembering that day. My heart ached for my baby.

I went for a run in the dark in a thunderstorm. I cried as I ran. The steady rain and strikes of lightning a perfect reflection of the feelings inside me, running against a constant onslaught of emotions. Over and over I cried out “You are enough. You are enough.”

Despite the storm and the relentless rain, the sky lightened. The sun rose.

As it always will, even in the bleakest dark.

“ I have made you. I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” Isaiah 46:4