13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb. (Psalm 139:13)
Sometimes it seems that in the midst of joy our painful pasts can sneak up and bite us. I think that sometimes these "interruptions" can serve us well. The older I get the more I hope for them to be opportunities for me to rely on God more and stress less.
Recently my husband and I learned that we will soon have a niece or nephew! My brother-in-law and his wife will be having a baby in mid-September. Amidst the excitement of a new baby coming that I don't have to wake up with came an unexpected rush of memories and pain that I never expected. It has taken me a while to write this down because I have gone through some pretty intense emotions over the last week and wanted to be sure of what I say. I hope it makes sense and that no one is offended by what I might say.
In November of 2007 I found out I was pregnant. Derrell and i were thrilled, but also kinda surprised. While we had begun trying neither one of us expected that I was already pregnant. I called my doctor, made the appointment, and the pregnancy was confirmed. An U/S was done just to rule out ectopic and to verify there was a viable pregnancy. My mom was with me and we were able to see my little bean on the screen. It was no surprise when we could not find a heartbeat...I was VERY early along, only about 5 weeks (3 weeks gestational). An appointment was made to follow up in a week or two to check the heartbeat.
The next few days were strange. I was VERY sick, which is supposed to be good, right? But something in me told me that I would not meet this child. Something didn't fit, didn't feel right, didn't seem...true. Unlike my first child, I felt no immediate connection to this unborn soul inside me. I tried to resign myself to the fact that I was going to lose this baby.
I was in a women's Bible study at the time, and at our next meeting we watched a video about Psalm 139. Don't quote me, but I think it was Kay Arthur. Anyway, she began talking about the miracle of birth, the miracle of motherhood, and I began to tear up. The sadness of what I felt was going to happen was overwhelming. Then she said something that I'll never forget. She said that we as women have an awesome opportunity that men will never have. Something that God has given to women that is truly amazing. We have the ability to house TWO souls at once, our own and our child's. Wow. She painted a wonderful descriptive picture in our minds of a bare-naked soul placed in our womb. God, with His heavenly knitting needle, knits a body around this precious soul, forming it to be exactly what He wants. Double wow. That picture, that image of soul being present long before the body, gave me such a peace. I can't explain it. God told me in that moment that He already knew this child, even before its little heart would beat. It was already His; he had placed it there in the presence of mine and my husband's love, and He was already taking care of it. I shared my revelations to the other women present and they all tried their best to talk me out of it. They said I was wrong, that surely everything would be fine. But I knew, even more so than before, that this child would never be mine on earth.
Three days later I went to the doctor again. An U/S was done, and I knew when she brought the doctor in what was happening. My heart was in my throat as Dr. Jones patted me on the knee and with tears in her eyes told me, "sweetie, there is no heartbeat."
I'm so glad my mom was with me. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband! But right then, I needed my mom to cry with. I needed her to put her arms around me and weep with me. And she did. The four of us (Dr. Jones, Carrie the U/S tech, my mom, and me) all cried in that little room
I've dealt with many different feelings about this. Guilt for my sadness because I was so early along. Surely it's not as bad as if I had been further along, like others I know. Peace knowing that God had me and that little bean the whole time. Relief that I had not in fact "bonded" with it like I had with Clayton, and would with Christopher. Awe at the providence of God in the whole situation. Anger. Sadness. Irritation with people who either made light of it or went overboard with sympathy. And the what-ifs. Oh, the what-ifs.
But recently the feelings have definitely been more of mourning. I don't think I allowed myself too much of that at the time. I thought I had not been far along in the pregnancy, so it must be easier to deal with. Or at least I convinced myself of that. But the questions are there now that may not have been questions had I been further along. Would it have been a boy or a girl? Would it have had red hair, no hair, blond hair? Would this child have had any birth marks? Would it have had enormous feet like my other two? And again, would it have been a boy or a girl? Would it have been easier to have had a body to hold and say good-bye to, or am I better off not knowing what that child would have felt like in my arms? Am I silly to imagine the remains from my D and C and wonder what was done with them?
And what about that precious little soul? Is it like all the pictures? Do they become little baby angels up in heaven? A nice picture, but I'm a sucker for reality, and I just don't know if that's Biblical or not. I do believe that there is a purpose for these things. A soul, a precious little soul, was inside me, if only for a fleeting moment. What place does it have in God's kingdom? And on my good days I feel EXTREMELY blessed that God thought enough of me to entrust that little one to me while He knitted it into what He needed, even if it wasn't what I thought it was going to be. And I do believe that in some way I will recognize that little soul when i reach Heaven. It must be a great purpose God has for these children. Otherwise the sacrifice, the pain, would not be necessary. God does not intentionally hurt us. He loves us so much, and that knowledge convinces me that these losses for us on earth are for a great gain in heaven.
This is what I must keep telling myself when the questions fill my mind. When I remember that Christmas season that was so painful I wanted to just shut down and hide away. When I remember the tears my husband and I shared, that my mom and I shared, that God and I shared. And then I look at Christopher, born in November of 2008, and cannot imagine life without him. I see purposes all around me for what happened. But all that can never truly take away the pain, the feeling of loss, and the questions.
So that's my story of miscarriage. I have learned that this touches many more women than I imagined. I know women who have lost early, like myself, those who have lost later and had to go through birth, and those who have birthed and lost just moments later. But I think I've decided that time is not a measure of pain or loss. Loss at any stage of pregnancy is loss of life. But we must remember that our earthly loss is His heavenly gain. And oh, what a gain!
I found this song on YouTube. I cried, and you might too. But it puts into words so much of what I and so many other women want to say. Please watch, if you can.
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