** I just wanted to express a deep, heart-felt thank you from my family for the outpouring of love, encouragement, and prayers from so many after my last post. We have felt the prayers of so many. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. **
Yesterday was Phil's first day back at work after our miscarriage and my first day forced into checking back into my life and responsibilities. I feel more thankful than ever for my children (we had a sweet morning making pancakes together, reading, and talking) and yet at the same time stuck in a mental fog that I can't seem to get out of. The demands, injuries, cries, and squabbles of my daily life keep me focused on the here and now, but in the quiet moments I also find myself drifting off, re-processing everything, and shedding tears.
The night of the miscarriage, I was surprised how even at only 7 weeks it felt so much like mild labour. I woke from a fitful sleep at precisely 3:17 AM to the sight of my baby. The air was hot and sticky and that moment - alone in the quiet stillness, holding my third child the size of a bean - was surreal and heart shattering, but it was also a direct answer from my loving Father to my exhausted prayers from the evening before. I had wanted to see my baby, to hold it, I needed that reality of goodbye - and God gave me that.
The next morning I could barely eat my breakfast. We dropped our kids off with our dear friends at church and headed to the hospital. Now I am truly thankful for hospitals, but I also truly dislike being in them. This visit was hours long, it was for some strange reason freezing in there (even though it was one of the hottest days of the summer), the procedures ranged from uncomfortable to excruciating, and only one of the half-dozen staff members I dealt with seemed to be blessed with the ability to show human compassion to a heart-broken patient. That’s maybe a bit harsh, but let’s just say I was hoping for at least a hint of compassion and a bit less incomprehensible medical lingo.
Phil and I buried our little one late Monday night. It wasn't anything particularly thought-out or ceremonial. We just kind of did it. It was late and the kids were in bed. It's a strange thing to do, but it seemed like the least awful thing to do, compared to putting it in the garbage or flushing it down the toilet. I’ve never had to worry about what to do with the tiny body of a little being that never quite got to start living. I felt everything and yet nothing all at once as the dirt covered that tiniest of boxes.
Jackson's tender little heart still is one of the saddest parts of this all. After a day in which looking at him you wouldn't guess it was affecting him at all or even on his mind anymore, last night he was playing quietly with his trucks at our feet when he said, "Mommy, I hope someday we could have another baby, and that it won't die. I don't want all the babies to die.” By which he means he doesn’t want ANY babies to die. My sweet boy. My heart aches for him. It's particularly hard to hear this because right now I can't imagine ever feeling ready to be pregnant again. Pregnancy has never been easy on me, but now I feel like it would be petrifying every step of the way. I don't know what God has in store for us, but that's how I see it now. However, I also realize it's only been a few days since our loss and feelings can change over time.
I feel strange now, not sure how or if I can move forward. My routines and goals that just a week ago brought joy and a sense of freedom now feel like dreaded chores or like clothes that don't quite fit right anymore. Last night I couldn't sleep because of the thoughts swirling in my head. Even this morning as I forced myself to at least get out for a short walk before the kids woke up, I found my mind consumed with what caused this or what I could have done differently to prevent it. The accuser is there pointing the finger. Did I drink too much coffee? Should I not have started running? Was it that little slip I had a few days before that I thought for sure couldn't have hurt anything? On and on it goes, more questions with no answers.
The truth I'm clinging to when the "why's" begin in my head is that God loves me. God Himself knit that baby together in my womb and He loves that baby even more than we do. He knows why it was best this way. He knows why He gave and why He took away. I am not God. I cannot see the beginning or the end. I cannot see the full picture. Some day I will see how all of this was woven into His good and perfect plan. But for today, I choose to have faith in this God who loves me and gave His child for me.
Jesus, I need you. Please put a hedge around my thoughts and my heart and strengthen my faith. Be glorified in this in my life. May an abiding sense of Your deep compassion and love be near any others who are walking through this today. Amen.