It’s officially happening
I’m away from my husband and am now multiple states away from him. My bleeding increased, but I was still waiting for the news from my blood draw. I knew what the outcome was going to be, but I was still hanging on to a little bit of hope. It was almost the end of the day on Tuesday, so I went ahead and made a quick phone call to leave a message for my nurse. We had gotten to the hospital to visit my grandma and had been there for a few hours. She was healing and it was so good to see her. Elijah was bringing smiles to her face and it was joy in the midst of everything that was going on. I was distracted though and was having a hard time really being there in the moment.
Finally the call came, I left the room since I was keeping the situation quiet till I could talk with my parents about it. As I walked down the hall towards a waiting room, she gave me the news about my levels and then said those dreadful words, “This isn’t a viable pregnancy.” I instantly forgot the words that she had said before, but tried to still stay focused on the following conversation. I needed to get my blood drawn again to make sure I wasn’t going to go ectopic. I hadn’t been in any pain, so she was thought that I would be in the clear. I got off the phone and called Brent to tell him the news. We cried together and I took the moment to collect myself before pushing my grief down inside for a while. I needed to go back into that hospital room without looking destroyed. I gathered myself, walked in, gave my sister some type of nod to show that I was in fact having a miscarriage and carried on.
The next several days were a whirlwind as I was pushing my grief down inside. I was able to let it out a couple times and cry with my sister while we were alone and with Brent on the phone. On the plus side, my grandma was doing better and moved out of the hospital to a nursing home. My second blood draw came back and my levels were dropping. This is a good sign to show that I wasn’t going ectopic. The nurse and I set up a plan to get a blood draw each week until my levels were low enough and she consulted the doctor about a plan for the next several months to let my body heal.
Friday came and we were back on the road to Bozeman. I longed to see Brent to hug him and to cry with him. After a long drive for him in icy road conditions and an icy pass for us, we finally met. We hugged and cried outside in the 0 degree temperatures before going inside for dinner. We had barely sat down and had only taken a few bites of food when we finally got the call we had all been waiting for. My dad gone in that day back in Oregon for an angiogram that had been delayed several hours. It went quicker than expected and my mom filled us in on the details. Dad had so many blockages in his heart that he wouldn’t be allowed to leave the hospital until they could do an emergency triple bypass surgery. I instantly became a blubbering girl again as I tried to keep it quiet to not set my mom off. I just lost it on top off all the other news. How and when could I tell her about my miscarriage now? I had wanted to earlier, but figured I’d wait till we knew dad was okay after his appointment. Now what? Now my grieving got pushed aside again as I started to focus on my dad.
Our week long vacation turned into two days seeing only a couple friends, running errands and a Christmas eve service before a long Christmas Day drive. Our 12 hour drive turned into a nearly 15 hour drive when we finally arrived in Portland. I cried as I saw my dad and the emotions were just running over. I had this huge secret, but had decided to wait to share it until I knew my dad was okay. I didn’t want to increase the emotions for everyone else since I was on the road to recovery. We woke up early Tuesday morning, headed to the hospital to pray with dad and to see him before surgery.
That morning went on forever and I couldn’t wait any longer to tell my mom. I couldn’t spend an entire day sitting next to her and not tell her. Brent and I told her our story. We cried and it was nice to be open and grieve. I went and got my third blood draw done in my third hospital. The results came back with continued lowering levels. I was on the right track. My dad was doing better after a very successful surgery, so I shared the news with him. We cried some more. It was healing. I could finally share it with the world. I was no longer bottling my grief up inside. A week was too long.
I did my last and final blood draw at my fourth hospital and was thankful that my levels dropped so quickly. I was done and now just needed to continue to let my body heal and to work on my emotional healing as well. I was glad to be done with hospitals and blood draws. Four hospitals in a week and a half. I was over them.
I was devastated
I was only about five and a half weeks along, but I couldn’t be more sad and disappointed than I was over those couple of weeks. 2017 ended with a bang and I was looking forward to a new year that had to be better. How could I feel that sad after only knowing for a week that I was having a baby? I was devastated. All those plans that I had were thrown away in a matter of a moment. Now I have to wait even longer to hold that baby. Emotions and thoughts kept and still are running through my head.
I wonder to myself how anyone could keep this bottled up inside. I know that you don’t want to share with the world that you are trying to get pregnant. I’ve been there and I think that that is partly why we keep it bottled up inside. You just lost a baby. Would you keep losing a loved one bottle up inside? Probably not, you’d share with your dearest friends and family that you lost them. Why can’t this be the same for a miscarriage? Why can’t we share with others that we have lost someone that we had only loved for a week or in many cases longer? I don’t like this stigma that is placed upon miscarriages. I don’t like that it is a taboo thing to talk about. In fact, if you share this, maybe people will stop asking you if you are trying for another kid yet. Those words that dig deep like a stabbing knife because you just lost a baby. It’s hard friends. You don’t have to go through this pain alone. Even if you don’t share it with the entire world, I encourage you to share it with your closest family, friends, and church family. Let them pray for you.
He is my comforter
Since I’ve shared this with those surrounding me, God has used their words to encourage me. He reminds me that this isn’t my fault. I did nothing to make this happen. That He is my comforter and can heal me both emotionally and physically. That He is everything. That even though I do not understand why this happened to me twice in one year, He has a plan that is greater than anything that I could imagine. There is a reason for this and I need to trust in Him. I needed to hear these words from Him. God uses others in our lives to help us through our seasons.
This season is a tough one for me, but I will make it out. It is only a season. I can find comfort in that and comfort in my Savior. I will leave you with this reminder. It came as a reminder for me from one of those people God used to speak to me.
I lift my eyes up to the mountains.
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
Psalms 121:1-2 (NIV)
I’m sorry it got so wordy. I just thought 4 parts was enough. Please reach out if you need it. Thanks for reading my story.