There has only been one thing I was certain I wanted my life to consist of and that was to be a wife and mom. I always pictured this calling to look like a full house, busy and full of laughter, tears, and noise. I didn't know what kind of mom I would be. I didn't know whether I would have boys or girls, but I always just assumed there would be children.
Yesterday, I was going through the process of miscarriage. I had read a lot of other women's experiences with natural miscarriage and spoken to quite a few others. Just like pregnancy and birth, no two stories were the same. It ranged from an intense period to almost as intense as labor. So I was left feeling a little unsure of what to expect. I won't share all the nitty-gritty parts, but as things progressed, with the information I had and knowing what red flags to look for, I realized a trip to the ER might be needed. Although my overriding emotions at the end of the day were shock, upheaval, and horror, I want to begin with praising God for how he provided and loved me — even in these awful circumstances.
I was alone with Jadyn when things began to progress. Thankfully, I had laid her down for her nap late, and she struggled to fall asleep until about 1:30pm or 2:00pm, which is when things really started to pick up. She never saw her mommy in distress! When I began to realize the red flags my midwife had warned me about, I thought it best to begin planning for the worst. I must have called ten people who I thought could get to me in fifteen minutes or less and was panicking because I kept getting voicemail. I was mostly worried about Jadyn and how this would impact her, but it was also an emotional thing to go through. How would we explain everything and not leave her scared. I finally got hold of a dear friend who lives no where near me, but she took over my cold calling and got other dear friends from church over to our house. All within ten minutes, Jordan was home, our caregivers for Jadyn arrived, and the nurse gave us the official "go to the ER" call. Jadyn was completely spared from any of the upheaval and was delighted to see our friends from church! She was whisked lovingly away to watch the Lion King and play on their playground! God knew that my heart needed to see the excitement on my girl's face as she left the house to go play. Apparently, that changed in the driveway, but my wise husband kept that information from me.
We arrived to the ER, which was packed, loud, and distressing — people moaning and crying. I wanted nothing more than to get back in the car and go home. God saw me crying and struggling to cope in the environment, and we were called back so quickly! We had our own room, which I decided was a huge blessing since there were two other people suffering right outside my door in the hallway. We were blessed by the privacy of a room. Praise be to God!
The rest of the stay at the ER was traumatic. I felt strongly that someone was trying to defeat me. I don't know whether I've ever felt as close to death then when I am giving birth to it. I know that sounds awful, and it is. It's so hard to desire so deeply the preciousness of new life and instead have to suffer and wait to pass death.
The physical parts were hard, but I'll spare you the details. This morning, I felt very slightly sore, and those physical hurts are minor. I still am very weak but the emotional hurts are, for me, the difficult things to cope with. The best way I can describe it is like watching a horror movie. I typically stay away from intense movies, graphically especially, because I can't stop playing the awful scenes in my head again and again. I wake up with nightmares from just recalling or imagining the same horror from the movies happening. That's how I feel about my experience at the ER last night. I can't stop playing the scenes and the conversations over and over.
"What pregnancy is this for you?"
"This is my third pregnancy. I had one child born alive two and a half years ago, a partial molar pregnancy a few months ago, and now this one."
"How far along are you?"
"I am nine weeks along from my last menstrual period, but was told this is a blighted ovum with a gestational sac measuring six weeks."
That doesn't seem like some graphic conversation does it? But that is what I keep playing in my head over and over. I was asked it three or four times, and the version didn't change. It was like I was being taunted. "You've have three pregnancies and only have one child!?" I played the statistics in my head. Well, if I want five children, and have a one-in-three ratio now, how many times will I have to be pregnant and miscarry to achieve that? Obviously, pregnancy isn't a game of craps, but that's where my mind went, and that thought process started to defeat me.
As Jordan and I were driving home, I realized my struggle, and I chose to begin preaching to myself. I am fortunate to have amazing family and friends who hear words like defeat and also begin preaching to me, so it wasn't long until I was recalling all the ways God provided for us even in this awful situation. I began to remind myself of his attributes and of what it means to be a Christian. I remembered verses and chose to stand firm… stand firm… I'm not always sure stand firm is what it sounds like it is. I hear stand firm and I think stubborn. I hear stand firm and I think illogical. In practice, I think stand firm looks rather pathetic and sort of embarrassing. It looks weak and futile. Almost like giving up. But that's where I am at. I am giving up my struggle. I am stopping giving in to my every emotion and thought, and giving them up to the Lord. I am stopping giving in to my plan and giving up control to God, since I don't have any anyway — you see? I don't have any control anyway. I'm nothing without Jesus, so I'm really not standing firm in anything but Him, but it doesn't feel like standing firm. If feels like cuddling, crying, and giving this life up to Him and trusting Him with it — pretty pathetic, huh? It's the best place to be though, and the company is great! Everyone else knows they are just as pathetic as you!
Thanks to everyone who has been praying for me. God is good and has been helping me to capture wrongful thinking and realign myself with His truth. I've been reading a book called Not a Fan by Kyle Idleman and he talks about spiritual breathing. Exhale and repent of your sins, and inhale and pray for the Holy Spirit to fill you with His power. Empty yourself of yourself, and fill up with Him. It's been helping me keep myself centered.
I don't know what God has in store for me. I do still believe we will have a house full of kids, but I am going to take one step at a time and trust God with it all. He knows my heart, loves me, and has blessed me so much already.
And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. — 2 Corinthians 12:9-10
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