“I miss our baby,” Lizzy sobbed at bedtime Thursday night.
“I know. I do, too,” I replied. My lips are cracked and my heart is so very sad. 10 weeks is such a short time, yet lifetime, to start loving someone.
Scott and I went in that morning for an ultrasound because I had severe cramping the day before and some spotting. After a call to our OB, Dr. John Adams (no joke!), and texting our beloved midwife in the U.S., Cathy, as well as doing some online research, it seemed not totally abnormal. I’d taught the intense 30-min Jazzercise class that morning, showered and then took my progesterone.
We learned that intense exercise can cause severe cramping (in addition, also that progesterone can cause irritation to the uterus lining and cause spotting). Seemed like the perfect storm. Dr. Adams was calm and not worried; neither was Cathy. That put me at ease. But Adams encouraged us to go in for ultrasound this morning.
We called and there was only 1 appointment in all 6 locations that was before next week. The one appt was 5 minutes away from preschool and seemingly saved just for us. A dear friend, Alyssa, offered to watch Joshua while Lizzy was at kinder so Scott could go with me.
Our appt was 9:30am and the tech, Suzanne, couldn’t have been more compassionate. At first, we couldn’t read the reality of what was going on. But, as she progressed with the scan, she wasn’t mentioning a heartbeat and the baby was measuring small.
Once we found the baby, he/she looked like a kidney bean, which surprised me a little because the baby should be bigger at 10 weeks. (We’d just watched the National Geographic week-by-week DVD we love about what’s going on with the baby and what’s growing, ultrasounds, etc. Looking at week 10, the DVD had showed that the baby was looking less like a dolphin–as Lizzy cutely pointed out–and more with arms, legs, and looked baby like.)
Another tech came in and measured, and then they slipped out to confer with the dr. (All done very tenderly, telling us what they were doing and quickly, so we didn’t have to wait and spin any longer than necessary).
Suzanne came back with the news. No heartbeat, which should be detected by now. And the baby only measured like it was 6 weeks. A miscarriage.
Oh, we are sad but not without hope. God is good and, although we have no idea why we won’t hold our baby this side of Heaven, we know we can trust Him and cling tightly to Him.
As I first journaled this, I sat looking at a bouquet of beautiful Easter lilies a friend brought Wednesday night when she and her kids came for dinner, before all the sadness. The Lord knew I’d need a visual reminder and planted “Because He Lives” in my heart and it’s come to mind all day long. I can’t remember the last time I thought of this hymn, which makes it all the sweeter.
Because He lives,
I can face tomorrow
Because He lives
all fear is gone
Because I know
Who holds the future
Life is worth the living
just because He lives.
Scott and I got until noon to cry and process together, and walk a nearby park while Alyssa picked up Lizzy and her 2 and our 2 got to play before we picked them up. Scott picked up the kids and brought them to the car and then I went in to hug and cry with Alyssa.
Grief comes in waves as we think of what is and what won’t be. Random thoughts. Christmas will be hard, as that would have been about when he/she would have been born. The kids don’t “have” to share a room now. I won’t have a little one snuggled on my chest. I’m at what is likely the end of the window to have another biological child. Sad. (All the while thinking about dear friends who haven’t held their own babies in their arms.)
Scott took the afternoon off of work. While the kids were down for naps he shooed me to get a neck and shoulder massage (woke up with yet another pulled muscle).
While at the shopping center, I bought green heart balloon for $12(!) and the sweet girl asked, “what’s the occasion?” I silently sobbed. “It’s just fresh.” She was taken back and said tenderly said, “I’m so sorry.”
We bought the balloon in hopes that, the next day, God would give us a name for this little one and we can celebrate his/her life by releasing a balloon with notes and drawing taped to it.
I thought, The pain will be for a long time, won’t it, Lord?
And I now know that’s ok. This was a life-changing, family-altering new life. Our hearts will never be the same — because of the joy and grief.
I came home and Scott and I told tender-hearted Lizzy the news. Our little 4-year-old sobbed with a heart and understanding of a 85-year-old woman who loves deeply.
She has asked really good questions throughout the night and it’s almost as if I can see the wheels in her brain spinning and trying to comprehend just what happened to the baby. As we explain (attempt to, at least), fresh tears fall for Scott and I. At bedtime that night, she asked how the baby got to Heaven.
I said something like, “Jesus said, ‘baby, why don’t you come with Me?'”
She was very concerned. “Did He say it kindly?”
“Oh yes, sweet heart. Do you remember the story about how the children came to Jesus but His friends said no, He doesn’t have time for you? What did the Bible say next? ‘But they were…”
“Wrong,” she tearfully smiled.
“Jesus always had time for the kids. He loved them.”
“How did Jesus take the baby to Heaven?”
“I can just see Him carrying the baby in His arms, can’t you?” Fresh sobs from me as I picture Him tenderly doing that.
On Thursday Scott proposed Micah as a name for our baby. Micah means, “Who is like God?” I loved it. I immediately thought it reminded me of the book of John, chapter 6, when lots of people chose to stop following Jesus and He asked the disciples if they would go, too. Peter answered, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”
Who is like God? To whom shall I go? You are the One who is good and is to be worshiped. I trust You even as my heart breaks.
Scott and I talked again Friday afternoon and agreed to name the baby Micah since it could be a girl or boy name, as well. Oh, someday we’ll know! We wrote notes and drew pictures, and walked to the park.
It was a beautiful sunset.
I’m not sad we’ve told friends or family. We need a community of people who love us all the more now. God gave us life and we celebrate that life for the time we had the baby.
Thursday night we had dinner with beloved friends — a dinner set up earlier that week. God knew we’d need it. I think I’ve been surprised how loved we are here. With each day comes fresh grace from the Lord and tangible ways God is caring for us through others, all over the world.
I wake to texts and emails from the States. Then, while American friends sleep, Aussie friends display care through their tears, texts or stop by with freshly-made banana bread. (Only the Lord knew Lizzy asked to make banana bread today and I told her we didn’t have bananas and would have to wait to make it. And the friends remembered we’re still in our dairy-free month trial for Lizzy’s health. How detailed God is in His care!)
Oh, Jesus. You see us. I trust You. Thank You for loving us in these ways, small and big ways.
Our big prayer request is for my body to realize the baby’s gone (now that I’ve stopped taking the high-level doses of progesterone), that my body would progress in the natural miscarriage and that I would not fear in the unknown but, rather, wait well and with trust in God’s perfect timing and His care for me and our family.