Neither Here Nor There
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9
I would be lying if I said there weren’t times that I caught myself gently rubbing my tummy, thinking about how far along I am (was), wondering what new had grown. I’ve cried so many tears that I have a headache that doesn’t want to go away. I dream about this pregnancy, about this baby. And when I wake up, I have the slightest thread of hope : Maybe it’ll be like I read about, where the ultrasound tech missed the twins in a woman’s womb (and other stories as such). And, maybe we did just mess up the numbers and approximates. Maybe I just am so early. And, this blood…other women have “periods” and go on to have healthy babies. Maybe. Maybe!
But, then I feel my insides twisting on itself and I know. I know that after this much blood, there’s no way. I know it’s just hope. Irrational hope.
I cry when I read about or see death in a film. I cry when I look at my girls or while looking at Facebook. I cry every time I read each sweet email or text from a friend. I even cry when I go to pencil something in my datebook – and I scrub hard at the little numbers I had penciled in that marked each passing week of my pregnancy.
Back and forth it goes, hope to sliver a calm to pure devastation. At this point, I don’t even know which way is up…
And yet I know it’s improvement, because that sliver of calm is there, no matter how short it is. It’s there.
A few moments ago, I received my latest hcg numbers (48 hours after the original one of 496): 201. It’s basically a confirmation of everything I already felt. My numbers are going down, the baby is no more. It’s done. It’s over, and yet it’s not.
For the next week or so (possibly two), I’ll continue to have blood drawn to watch and wait as my levels return to negatives. The hope for this baby is gone, but I’m secretly relieved by the count. In some cases, a woman’s hcg levels can rise before they fall even after the baby stops thriving. I’m so sad for what I’ve lost, but to have had numbers rising to give a false hope and security would have been worse for me. I’m glad for the waiting to know what’s going on to be over.
My emotions rip through me like a hurricane. I’m devastated. I’m worried – what does this mean for the future, will it happen again? Will I never be able to think about this baby without crying? Will I always feel a void, a shadow in our family portrait? Will I ever stop grieving? And, then…there’s a tiny ray of new hope, just beginning to glow. It’s still faint, but I’m hoping that God will use this for some good – will I help someone else? Will God use me to plant a seed of hope and love in a heart as tender as mine is right now?
Because the thought of this baby being taken for no reason at all is just too terrible for my crushed heart to grasp.
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.“ – Proverbs 3:5,6
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Comments
Katie
Sweetie, may you be an inspriation to everyone woman who has this misfortune happen in the future. I love you and pray that God wraps you in warm, comfort!
Julia
You are an inspiration to people already! Your courage to talk openly and share your feelings is amazing! ((HUGS))
Paige L.
I found your blog randomly and just wanted to tell you that I understand what you are feeling. I found out on May 3rd of this year that I was pregnant – this would have been our 2nd. What joy I felt! My practitioner doesn’t like to see anybody until closer to 10 weeks, so my first appt. was scheduled for May 28. A couple of days after my joy, things just didn’t feel right mentally, but physically, everything was still good. I had this bad feeling, but thought I was being paranoid. A few days later, I had slight cramps, but nothing major. I had some light spotting, which freaked me out, but again, nothing major. I went in for HCG tests and everything was good! My numbers were increasing. I continued to spot off and on until May 28. I knew in my heart that something was wrong, but I wanted to be wrong! No heartbeat on the doppler and then no baby on the ultrasound. There was a sac, but nothing else. I’m told that I’m miscarrying, have miscarried, and that’s it is most likely a blighted ovum. Even though I suspected it, the news crushed me. I felt like a train ran over me and than a ton of bricks fell on me. (I had to endure several of those “what not to say” phrases from good intentioned friends) Then I have to get more HCG tests, but they aren’t dropping! That gives me hope that maybe my dates were off or maybe the baby was behind the sac. I have to go for a more fancy ultrasound a week later, but the sad news was confirmed. A week later, I ended up in the ER because my body would not stop bleeding and my blood pressure was dropping WAY too low and I was fainting.
I know this was a long comment and I haven’t even told a lot of friends about this, but your blog touched me. I wanted to share my story with you since mine happened shortly before yours. I am so sorry. I wish you didn’t have to go through this. I wish nobody did.
I have a lot of emotions, too, and I worry about trying again. It scares me to think that this could happen again.
Time has passed, but I still have rough days. I have days where I cry and days where seeing babies makes me weep. It just makes me realize what I’ve lost. I feel like my baby was a girl. I call her Faith. It took so much of my faith to get me through all of it. I do believe that God has a purpose in all of this, even if we can’t see what that purpose is right now.
Kara
I am so sorry for your loss, but I can say I am comforted by your words. Even though this post (and previous ones) are raw with emotion, as one who has suffered four miscarriages, it is comforting to know I’m not alone in my thoughts and grief. It is devastating to lose a child, no matter if you were lucky enough to hold them in your arms or not. I will keep you in my prayers as you walk the path to physical and emotional healing.