My miscarriage

*I needed to write this for me (wrote it last week), a kind of therapy, and was not going to post it for others to see, but have been feeling like I should...so I am...*

I went to bed last Wednesday night excited for the following day.  I was totally packed to take Kelly on her first ever backpacking trip (only my third) AND I was going to start out the day seeing our little babe on ultrasound for the first time.  My appointment was at 8 am and  I had called a babysitter so that I didn't have to interrupt anyone's morning or get the kids all fed and dressed before I left.

I woke up feeling nauseated...normal.  I was excited that I was at 11 weeks and almost out of the first trimester.  Almost done with the nausea, yay!  It hadn't been awful, but it was a life disrupter I was ready to be done with.  Tyler goes to work early and would be meeting me there for the ultrasound, though he said he would be a little late.  I arrived, got checked in, sat for a minute, and then was called back by a very sweet ultrasound tech.  We chatted on the way back about how I was feeling, how many children I have, how happy we were about this fifth baby. I was excited to get the pictures of our babe to take home to the kids.  She said that she wanted to try an outside ultrasound first since I was far enough along, but that we might have to switch to internal.  Ty wasn't there yet, but I told the tech that he would be there any minute.  She squirted some cold gel on my belly and quickly we saw where the baby was.  My heart soared a bit.  The baby didn't appear to be moving, but I thought that maybe he/she was asleep?  I mentioned this to the tech who kindly and quietly said, "And I'm not seeing any cardiac activity..."  My heart sank.  But not to the depths. Not yet.

Maybe she just wasn't getting a good read and needed to do an internal ultrasound.  Just a few seconds later she said that she was going to do just that and left me in the room to get undressed.  I was fighting the thoughts that were crowding my mind, telling myself not to freak out.  Not yet.

A few seconds later the door opened and in walked my best friend, the man of my dreams...I needed so much to have him there.  He is so good at talking me down from freak-out.  I told him what we had seen, what she had said.  I fought some tears.  A few minutes later the internal ultrasound began and pretty quickly I knew.  I knew.  I knew that this baby we were so excited and nervous and thrilled about was not alive.  We would not be coming to another ultrasound in a few short months to find out whether this babe was a girl or a boy.  We would not be cradling this tiny miracle in our arms sometime in February.  I lay there and sobbed.  She kept taking measurements, moving the wand around, and inside my head I was screaming, "Just let me off of this table!  I don't want to be here anymore!  My baby is not alive and I want to be anywhere but right here."  But instead I just laid there and felt each tear as it slid in silent, rapid succession to the right side of my face and onto the table I was lying on.  I couldn't look away from the screen.  I tried talking to the baby  in my mind, "Please just start beating.  Come on!  Why can't your heart start beating right now?!"  I knew it was ridiculous, but there was a small sliver of hope in my heart that maybe the heart would start beating and the babe could catch up in growth.  After all, I was feeling pregnant.  Nothing was making total sense.  Including me.  I was in shock.  I couldn't totally accept that I was losing this baby.  Not yet.

Finally she stopped.  I got dressed and we waited in the room for the radiologist to read the ultrasound.  I cried while Tyler rubbed my back, held me, held my hand.  Nothing could make it better, but I was so thankful to have this great man by my side.  And I was determined to not shut him out like I had with the last miscarriage.  We were sent to see my OBGYN, Dr. Christen. I walked into the waiting room, where I was supposed to have my first appointment in just a few days.  There were a few very visibly pregnant women waiting for their appointments; it was hard to look at their adorable bellies filled with healthy, growing babies.  We met with Dr. Christen.  He is a really great doctor.  He said that the miscarriage would likely occur in the next few weeks, but to call if I wanted a D&C or if anything seemed to be going wrong.  So many tears, I just couldn't stop crying.  Not yet. Not for a long while.

Afterward I said goodbye to my good husband who had to go back to work.  We'd discussed that I would tell the kids when I got home.  I stopped by the bank to get cash to pay the babysitter and then I parked the car and finally had the cry I wanted to have on the ultrasound table and in the doctor's office; the kind that is loud and heart wrenching and necessary, at least for me.  I called my sisters and texted my mom who was in training for her new job.  We cried together and my heart ached that I couldn't hug them.  I wanted to get home and be with my kids, but I couldn't stop sobbing.  Not just yet.  I sat and cried some more before I knew that I needed to pull it together and get home to the little people I had helped to create; I needed their little hands around me.

The kids immediately asked why my eyes looked like that.  I said we would talk about it and we did just as soon as our sweet babysitter left.  Everett asked, "Will it come back to life?"  I wish, bud.  Max hugged me hard.  Kelly cried and hugged me but quickly ran upstairs where I could hear her sobbing her little heart out.  Mine broke all over again.  I hugged Max until he was okay and then went and climbed in bed next to my little girl, holding her tight.  We both just cried it out for a while.  I thought about how I never want her to have to go through a miscarriage or anything like it.  I said a desperate, unreasonable, prayer that she will be shielded from this kind of heartache.

The rest of the day is a jumble...my sweet friend, Marcela, took my three older kids while Tucker napped.  I spent most of that time praying and crying and sending texts to family and friends to tell them the news because I couldn't talk about it too much.  I talked and cried with my mom and mother-in-law.  I received a text from a dear friend who had been thinking about me and didn't know why. Sometime I decided that ol' Facebook would be a good way to spread the news so that I didn't have to repeat my heartache every time someone asked how the pregnancy was going.  It felt a little lame when I pushed "post" but it turned out to be a very, very good thing for me.  I was still thinking most of the day that it would be good to still do the backpacking trip with my Kelly, but changed my mind about 4:30...I was too spent.  And I wanted to be with Tyler; I NEEDED to be with him.  We loaded the kids up and went to the beach at Point No Point.  It was soul soothing.  I kept looking at my kids' little bodies and thinking what a miracle they each are.  How amazing that they were able to thrive inside of me and were born so healthy and able-bodied.  It's truly miraculous.

On Friday morning I told Tyler that I needed to throw myself into a project to take my mind off of things.  We took on the family room; something we were almost ready to do anyway.  Painting, re-texturing walls, making curtains...it was just the ticket, but kind of crazy with four other kids and the other stuff we had going on.  We also went to a church picnic, Whaling Days fireworks, Whaling Days 1-mile Run & Parade.  Tyler and I stayed up until 2:30 a.m. painting because that's what you have to do when you have a 16-month-old. It was a decent, very busy weekend in spite of everything.

Sunday I went to church.  The signs of the miscarriage had begun.  I was grateful in a way because it was hard to have that part hanging over my head, wondering when...  By the time church was over I was quite crampy.  We came home and the family room was still drying, so the furniture was still in the middle of the room, covered in plastic.  I just needed to lie down.  I found Kelly in her bed, playing, and laid next to her.  The next thing I knew it was two hours later and I was just waking up.  Tyler had to run somewhere and said he would make dinner when he got home.  I could feel some more consistent cramping but thought it would be fine.

Very quickly, though, things got tough.  I started having very consistent, very intense contractions.  The kids were playing in the backyard and the family room was still in chaos, so I took a pillow on the deck.  It was getting more intense, and Tucker was getting more restless, climbing on my lap and crying while I was working through very hard contractions.  I called Tyler in tears, asking when he was coming home.  He wouldn't be home for another 25 minutes.  I told him, through tears, what was going on and he said that he was calling our next-door neighbors, the Lintons, to come and get the kids.  They swept in like angels and took the kids, two of them crying, to their house. I was so incredibly grateful for them.

I went upstairs and worked through the contractions; they felt like the kind just before transition in real labor. So intense. So hard to go through when there isn't a baby to hold on the other side of the pain.  Marcela came to check on me and Tyler finally made it home.  It was nice to have his presence there, to have him rub my back and feel his strength. He gave me a blessing as I pressed my forehead to the door jam of our room and moaned through another contraction.  I had already felt the presence of angels in my room, but I knew then that there were women on the other side of the veil there, helping me. After about two hours of those hard contractions, things finally calmed down and I took a long bath.  I got out of the bath and melted onto the bean bag in the kids' room while Ty was whipping up dinner downstairs.  I was physically and emotionally spent, but felt peaceful; the spirit was very strong.  I was still feeling the presence of angels - those on earth who were helping me and praying for me, and those beyond this world who I believe are more a part of our lives than we realize.  I was laying there thinking about that when Tucker walked into the room and was pointing saying, "Jesus!  Jesus!"  That's not something he has said very often and definitely not without us pointing at a picture and saying, "Jesus."  I believe that he felt, and likely saw, the angelic activity that was happening in our home.

On Monday I passed the baby.  It was heart-wrenching.

Amidst all of the heartache, so many have reached out to me and my family.  Flowers, treats, a basket of sunshine, babysitting, babysitting offers, cards in the mail, messages on Facebook.  I have been slightly stunned, so humbled, and incredibly grateful for the outreach and love I have felt through this trial.  I have come to understand the sanctifying power of service as a recipient.  I am not an easy person to serve; I love to give service, but don't accept it often.  But as I have opened my heart and life to that service, I have been flooded with the Spirit.  I have thought a lot about how this relates to the Atonement and how we must accept the service He has given for His sacrifice to work in our lives.

Tyler and I are reading The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis together, we have been for a little while.  Right after the miscarriage we happened to read Chapter 11; it's about a mother in heaven who's son died at a young age.  She is now in heaven and all she wants is to see and be with her son.  She is talking to her brother, who is telling her that she needs to do a little work before her son is able to see her...she needs to put God first.

"You wouldn't talk like that if you were a mother."

"You mean, if I were only a mother.  But there is no such thing as being only a mother.  You exist as Michael's mother only because you first exist as God's creature.  That relation is older and closer.  No, listen Pam!  He also loves.  He also has suffered.  He also has waited a long time."

I felt my heart and tears swell as we read this chapter.  I realized that I have taken such ownership of "my" children, of being a mother and doing my best at it...but I have left God out of things a bit.  I have neglected the knowledge that these children are on loan to me from Him.  I have not thought in a while about another elite title I hold; a Daughter of God.  I am so wrapped up in being a mom.  But being a mom, on it's own, is not enough.  This miscarriage was a reminder of a lot of things - the gift and miracle that each of my children are, the eternal nature of our spirits, the fact that these children are on loan to me and to Tyler.  This miscarriage woke me up to several things, but mostly it has turned me to God, my Father in Heaven.  I am closer to Him.  I am more aware of my role and of His.

I know that there are women who have endured so much more.  While that has definitely given me perspective, I have also owned my emotions and my heartache.  I have allowed myself to grieve and experience this loss.  My heart and body are healing.  There is an ache in my heart that will likely remain for a long time.  I hope another baby will come.  I know that there was purpose in this trial.  I have so very much to be thankful for.