When I first penned this appointment into my calendar it was for far different reasons (and originally for a different date)...
April 9th, 2:30 p.m. - This coming Tuesday was supposed to be the first day that Adam and I excitedly got to see the small, bean-shaped image and quickly flickering heartbeat of our second child. Unfortunately, just days after making this appointment it became very clear that this was a milestone we wouldn't reach as I began experiencing a very early term miscarriage.
These past few weeks have been hard. I can't even begin to explain the myriad of emotions I have felt beyond even that of sadness: anger, confusion, love, resentment, jealousy, shame, foolishness. Just to name a few. And while I know it is conventional to wait out the standard 12 weeks to make a pregnancy public knowledge, try telling a woman's heart to wait 12 weeks to begin making plans with that baby. I can almost guarantee you that when most women (i.e. Me) see two pink lines on a pregnancy test, within the span of 12 seconds their mind is off and running. You have mentally calculated when your due date will likely be. You have done the math and figured out how many months/years younger this new baby will be than their older sibling. You are imagining what it will look like when you snap that photo of both of your babies under the Christmas tree this year. You are moaning over the fact that while you had already planned on camping out at the neighborhood pool with your toddler this summer, you will now have to do so in a likely less than flattering pregnancy swimsuit. Then you think that your swimsuit might as well be a striking shade of emerald, not only because it is the Pantone color of the year, but because you will likely be green with envy while watching all of the other mamas strutting their svelte figures around.
So while caution might prevent you from announcing your pregnancy immediately to the world, it doesn't prevent your mind from going "there" and it doesn't prevent your heart from instantly feeling a seed of love for the tiny baby growing inside of you.
I'm not sure I know all of the reasons why I decided to share this now, to make it public knowledge, other than that I feel ready. I do not believe or try to live out the notion that it is necessary to share everything about our lives even though blogs such as this one, and social media, make it very easy and at times tempting to do so. I just felt pulled towards transparency in this situation.
Outside of a few family members and close friends who have experienced similar loss, we initially didn't speak to anyone about this. I just wasn't ready to speak freely about it. And if I'm being completely honest, it can be hard to share these things with those who don't know the sting of fertility challenges and/or miscarriage. But many of you have picked up on my demeanor and have been respectful when I have said that I wasn't ready to talk about what's been on my heart. I thank you for your concern friends. Adam and I are always amazed by the blessing of friends we have in our lives.
And here is where the hope and beauty of this misfortune comes in. Over the past couple of weeks, as we have slowly begun to share our hurt with you all, we have been reminded of a few things.
For starters, while there is comfort to be found in others who have been in similar situations, there is also comfort to be found from those who love you. Plain and simple. Whether they have walked a mile in a matching pair of shoes or haven't felt the emotions of your plight at all. I really can't speak for men (obviously), but I believe that God fashioned the hearts of women in such a way that when we share our deepest hurts with those who love us, a sort of healing begins to occur. It isn't a quick fix, it doesn't erase things and certainly doesn't change what has happened. It might be just the first of 1,000 painful sutures over a wound. But in my case, at least, it is as if my heart can sigh and say, "There. It's on the table. I don't have to mask this hurt and pretend it isn't a part of my story right now." So for those of you who have had knowledge of this before this blog post, I thank you for your listening ears, your encouraging words and most of all for the prayers you have offered on our behalf.
Secondly: Hope. I am not going to lie, I spent that first week, at least, wallowing in self-pity and carrying around an "I quit. I give up." mentality. And to be honest, I didn't want to feel any differently because I felt like at the very least I had earned the right to adopt a defeatist attitude. To not trust. And all during this time I talked to God and cried out for understanding. It is almost laughable to think that I thought I could stand on my soap box of pity all while calling on my God and not expect Him to begin planting seeds of hope in my heart again.
Romans 15:13 says, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as your trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."
Do I feel joy over the loss of my baby? Certainly not! Have I felt joy in the days since? Absolutely. Am I at peace with the sadness I have felt? No, not entirely. But I can assure you that as pity has lost some of it's grip on my heart, I have felt God's peace and am finding it easier to trust in His love and comfort for me. I don't know what is to come. I don't know if Adeline will be our forever only child or if she will be a big sister someday. I don't know how this experience will impact my life in the future. I do know that hope is mine though. It is a gift from the Holy Spirit. And not only can I have it, but I can overflow with it. And that, my friends, is the promise I cling to.
Finally, I want to leave you with the lyrics to one of my favorite songs that we sing at church. I have always loved this song, but in the past few weeks the second verse in particular has been so meaningful. (We sang this days after my miscarriage and I immediately began sobbing in the middle of church.) The song is called Wonderful Merciful Savior.
Wonderful, Merciful Savior
Precious Redeemer and Friend
Who would have thought that a Lamb
Could rescue the souls of men
Oh you rescue the souls of men
Counselor, Comforter, Keeper
Spirit we long to embrace
You offer hope when our hearts have
Hopelessly lost the way
Oh, we hopelessly lost the way
You are the One that we praise
You are the One we adore
You give the healing and grace
Our hearts always hunger for
Oh, our hearts always hunger for
Almighty, infinite Father
Faithfully loving Your own
Here in our weakness You find us
Falling before Your throne
Oh, we're falling before Your throne
Rachel, my heart aches for you and Adam as you face this loss. You have shared your heart so beautifully here. Many should read your words-they are honest and pure and I think can help in the healing for others.
ReplyDeleteI think it is good that more women are beginning to talk about infertility and miscarriage. I have experienced miscarriage, and though I may have walked a mile in a "matching pair of shoes" (what a great way to put it) we are different people and our experiences impact us in perhaps different ways based on where one is at the time-it cannot easily be said-"Oh, I know how you feel."
You loved this child, this baby is a part of your story now. That is still a beautiful thing, even though it is surrounded by pain and sadness.
I am glad to read that you are clinging to God through this. He is the God of all comfort.
2 Corinthians 1:3-5
God of All Comfort
3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 5 For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.[a]
-Sarabeth