Joshua 24:15

"But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." Joshua 24:15

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

100 Days

100 days ago, on a Monday morning, I went to my yearly "female exam" and found out I was going to be a mommy again. My third miracle baby was on the way. I was thrilled. But then, on a Friday morning, just 11 short days later, I got the phone call from a nurse at my doctor's office. I was standing in the parking lot at UPS waiting to pick up Jordan after he'd been out-of-town on business all week. Ryan was still strapped in his car seat, and Rylee was standing in front of hers, asking me over and over again when Daddy was going to be here. I was focused on my phone, though. I knew a nurse would be calling any minute with the results of my blood work. I had woken up that morning feeling a bit nauseous, and I remember thinking to myself, "This is a good sign," because maybe it meant that my morning sickness was starting to kick in. But then the phone rang. And somehow I knew, even before I answered. Suddenly, my stomach was in my throat, and I was hearing the nurse ask, "Have you experienced any cramping or bleeding...?" I can still hear her voice. So soft and hesitant, not wanting to tell me what she had to. But it was her job. "No... I haven't noticed anything. Everything's been normal..." How I managed to speak at all, I'm not sure. But then, she was saying it... "Your hCG levels have dropped significantly... I'm afraid it looks like you've miscarried..." And then the tears came - the ones I'd been holding back since the phone rang - and the nurse was silent on the other end of the phone, and Rylee was in my face asking, "Why are you crying, Mommy? Mommy, what's wrong?" And I stood there in the parking lot while the nurse explained to me that "sometimes, these things just happen" and asked me if I had any questions, and although I had a million all at once, I couldn't manage to get a single one out, and so instead I just muttered a weak "Thank you" between soft sobs before hanging up. And then, as if on cue, Jordan emerged from the UPS building with his boss, whom I had never met. And they were smiling as they walked toward me, and I did my best to wipe my eyes and nose, to no avail, and Jordan was looking at me mouthing, "Are you okay? What's wrong?" And I shook my head, trying to brush off his questions, and then they were in front of me, and Rylee was wrapped around Jordan's neck, and Ryan was shrieking, "Daddy! Daddy!" from his car seat, and Jordan's boss was shaking my hand and jokingly apologizing to me for keeping Jordan from me for too long and making me cry, and I did my best to go along with it all, tears still falling from my eyes. And then his boss left us, and Jordan looked at me and asked me again what was wrong, and I shook my head and stared at the asphalt for a few seconds before finally answering, "I lost the baby," and the sobs started up again as he asked me what I meant and how and why. And by the time we got home, my lower back was aching like it always does when it's time, and I knew it was coming. Jordan pulled the van into the front yard and put it in park, and in that moment, I felt it release. I walked into the house and went straight to the bathroom, and the deep red was glaring back at me. My baby really was gone.
Tonight, I am missing that baby. The one I never got to hold in my arms. The one I never even got to see. I am missing that baby more than words can describe. Tonight, I'm longing for the 21-week basketball-shaped belly I would have by now. Tonight, I am missing the little flutters and kicks I would be feeling by now. We would've been halfway to the finish line by now. We would've known "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!" by now. But instead, my womb is empty tonight. My heart feels so empty tonight. This emptiness hurts. It bores into me... into the pit of my stomach and straight through to my heaving back between deep, heavy, continuous, uncontrollable sobs. My head is throbbing. I stare blankly in the mirror. Swollen red eyes with eyelashes glued together by tears stare back at me. The reflection triggers a new wave of sobs, and the cycle repeats. Lord, please take this grief from me. I miss my baby.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Matthew 5:4

Friday, May 17, 2013

Dear Baby (Twelve Days)

Dear Baby,

Hi. It's Mommy.
I can't sleep right now, so I thought I'd write you a letter. I know you will never actually read this, but I feel the need to write it anyway.
I'm sorry I don't have anything better to call you than "Baby", but you see - I only learned of your existence eleven days ago. I tried to think of names for you during these twelve days total, but Daddy and I hadn't had a chance to settle on one yet. We don't even know if you were a boy or a girl. And so, I will simply call you "Baby", but please know it is with the utmost love and affection.
I am going to do my best to get through this and write what I feel I need to write, but it's so hard. Mommy is very sad right now. My heart is hurting, and I feel so very empty inside.
You see, Baby - I lost you today.
God decided to keep you in Heaven with Him.

I've thought about you non-stop the past twelve days. I was already picturing what our family would be like with you in it.
I tried to think of creative ways to announce your upcoming arrival when we were ready to make you known to our family and friends.
I wondered what my due date was going to be. We were supposed to find out in a couple of weeks. I bet it would've been pretty close to your daddy's and big brother's birthdays in January.
I tried to imagine how we were going to set up your nursery in the bedroom right across the hall from mine and Daddy's bedroom in our new house. We were planning to move your sister into a "big girl" bed so you could use her crib.
I was anxious to have a "Big Brother" shirt made for Ryan so that anyone who saw it would know that you were coming.
I couldn't wait to tell our photographer that she was going to have another beautiful baby to photograph soon.
I tried to picture how big my belly would be at Christmastime while I attempted to help your big sister and brother open their presents. I wonder if I would've gotten as big with you as I did with your brother. He was a BIG boy.
Just last night, I rubbed my belly and talked to you. I told you that I was so excited about you, and that I loved you, and that I wanted you to hang in there and be strong. I didn't know at the time that you were already gone... 

Some people may not understand why Mommy hurts so badly right now.
Some people may think, "You only knew about it for a couple of weeks."
Some people may think, "You never even saw it. You never even heard a heartbeat."
But I would venture to say that those same people probably don't understand the depth of a mother's love.
A mother's love is immediate.
A mother's love is infinite.
No, I didn't get to see you, Baby. I didn't get to hear your heart beat.
But I knew you were there.
And so I loved you.
And I always will.

Love,
Mommy