I know I haven't posted in forever, but I have think I have good reason. I am pretty busy with raising three beautiful (yes, boys can be beautiful) boys, working full time and managing our home (maybe not too well, but I am trying). But last week I decided that it was time to write a post, even though it's one that I don't want to write.
Back when Ronnie and I had been married for 5 months in October 2005, we found out that I was pregnant. We were surprised, but we were excited. We knew that we wanted kids one day, but I was finishing up my degree, finances were tight, and we were just enjoying being married. But we were so very excited that an unexpected miracle was coming our way. I went and got the pregnancy confirmed on Halloween of all days. We were busting at the seams and told everyone because we couldn't contain our happiness. I made an appointment with the OB and we were cruising along.
On November 9, things changed. I discovered that I had started bleeding. I probably called for Ronnie, but I don't remember. Why was this happening? Would we lose our baby? I called the doctor and was given an appointment for the next day. I went in and the doctor did an exam and then sent me for an ultrasound. Of course, those ultrasound techs can never tell you what's going on. Annoying, yes, but that's the rule. We tried to act cool. I remember going to Subway because Ronnie wanted me to eat, but all I did was sit at the booth and cry. I just knew our baby was gone. We went home and waited by the phone all day. The doctor didn't call until after 7.00 that night. She was so impersonal. I remember her telling me that there "was nothing there" like my baby had never existed. She didn't ask if I was ok. I had to ask what the next step was. She basically said that nature was taking care of things and I would be fine. I hung up the phone and lost it. I cried like I had never cried before. Ronnie held me and cried like I have never seen before or since. I pray to never see that kind of pain in his eyes again. We were crushed. We told my parents and then drove over to tell his because we didn't want to deliver that news over the phone. I remember trying to be strong in front of others, but when we were alone how we would cry. Ronnie stopped crying before I did. Some days I still cry. Like now, while I'm typing this.
I go through times when I am glad that we experienced the loss of a baby. I know that it helps me be more thankful for the children we have here to hold and love. I have times when I wonder what he or she would have been like. Was that our baby girl? Or would it have been another boy? Most of the time I'm thankful for the loss, because had I carried the baby to term, Ethan would not be here now. The baby would have been born in early June, but Ethan was created in April. There were times when we would see pregnant women or little babies and I would get so upset. Why couldn't I keep my baby? What had I done to make God take my baby? Would I ever get to love a child of my own?
I don't know God's plan. None of us do. I was hurt, but I made it through. I didn't know back then how common it is for women to miscarry. I know now that it happens pretty often. Does that make it hurt less? No. I know that no matter what anybody tells you that it doesn't make it any better. I hated hearing that I would have another baby one day, that there was probably something wrong with the baby so it was for the better, that it wasn't a good time for us anyway. What meant the most was the people that called to say they were sorry, the cards I got that told me I was being prayed for, the friends I had that listened and held me while I cried. So, for anyone that may be going through the loss of a little miracle, I empathize with you. I know it's hard, but you will make it through. You will have a child waiting for you in Heaven just like we do.