Monday we went to the doctor for our first ultrasound. As I looked at the picture of this tiny baby, perfectly healthy looking, there was no movement...no heartbeat. At almost 11 weeks, the doctor said the baby only survived til 9 weeks before it slipped away. Call it mother's intuition or just plain worry, but from the beginning of this pregnancy I've been very anxious. I blamed it on not feeling the same as I felt with the boys or the fact that this baby was a surprise, but in a way, I knew something wasn't right. Although I know I didn't do anything to cause this, I've been struggling with guilt and racking my brain with what could have gone wrong. Why do these things happen? Why does God give us a blessing only to take it away a couple months later?
The doctor scheduled surgery for Monday evening since I hadn't miscarried the baby on my own yet. In a strange way, I didn't want to go through with it. I just felt like the baby was safe inside me where it needed to be and I wanted to keep him there as long as I could. I think waiting for it to happen on it's own was just postponing the inevitable and would probably be harder emotionally, so we opted for the surgery. As I woke up from anesthesia, I looked at Jon and very groggily said, "My baby is gone, isn't it?" With his eyes filled with tears, he could only whisper, "Yes."
I'm in mourning right now and I imagine that I will be for some time. I can tell that I am moving through the grieving process because I've passed unbelief to sadness and now the sadness is beginning to turn into anger. I'm angry with God. I'm angry with God for giving me this baby as a surprise if he knew what the outcome would be. I could've done without the whole thing. I'm angry that I had to tell my kids that our baby won't be coming home. I'm angry that my plans for the next six months have completely changed. I'm angry that my body failed me and my child. I'm angry that I did 11 weeks worth of "work" for nothing.
Through all this anger, I still see how God has protected me and blessed me. We surprised Jackson Monday morning by telling him he could go to the ultrasound with us and miss the first hour of school. For some strange reason, he said he didn't want to miss playtime and he'd rather go to the ultrasound when we were going to find out the sex of the baby. For anyone who knows Jack and how excited he has been about this baby, you know that is totally out of character. All I can say is that it was God protecting his little heart and his innocence. I'm thankful that in all my years of being a mother, that this is the first time this has happened. I have a new sense of compassion for women who have endured miscarriages over and over in hopes of just getting ONE baby. I'm thankful that I will be able to get pregnant again. I'm blessed to be in good company of many friends who have walked this path before and understand how lonely it feels. I'm thankful for so many friends and family who have shown their love for my family though meals, cards, flowers, caring for my children and praying for us. I'm grateful for my husband who has everyday sat down and listened to me talk about the same thing over and over because he knows it's crucial to me healing.
As with any tragedy, the world doesn't stop. All around is evidence that life goes on. I still have two children who need me and want my attention. The laundry needs to be done. I can button my pants again. Babies are conceived and babies are born. Bills have to be paid. We're out of milk, and...God is still on the throne...still in control...still faithful.