Seven months ago we encountered a
grief we’d never expected – we found out we were miscarrying a baby. I still
grieve the little baby we will never know this side of heaven. But I take
comfort in knowing three things: God is still on the throne, nothing is wasted,
and we aren’t alone in this journey.
I wrote the words below the day
after learning that our baby had stopped growing and I’m sharing our story today
–on what would have been our baby’s due date, November 20, 2018.
Some days I struggle to find the
same optimism that I wrote this blog with but every day, I choose joy. And joy
is not always the easiest choice but it’s what I choose.
This is our story…
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Thursday morning, March 22, 2018 I
awoke and quickly jumped out of bed.
There were two lines – TWO LINES!
I laid the test on Ben’s chest. It
was faint but it was there. We celebrated and took a picture. I called the
doctor and made an appointment. I’d be 8 weeks and 2 days along at the time of
the appointment.
A few days later, I took another
test and the word “pregnant” appeared. I was filled with joy.
Thursday, April 12 I awoke late
because Ethan had been sick and up in the middle of the night. Ben took the day
off work to accompany me to the doctor and since Ethan was sick he’d be tagging
along, too.
We arrived, filled out some
paperwork, and went into the sonogram room.
The tech asked me some questions and
then I looked at her face. I asked, “do you see a baby?” She turned the screen
towards me and said, “you’re only measuring at five weeks which means...”
“there’s no baby.” I finished the sentence. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and her
eyes welled up with tears.
Ethan, my precious, very aware, and
very compassionate son, saw the look on my face and said, “Mommy. Mommy.” His
eyes welled with tears. I told him it’s okay and he said, “I hold you” and he
climbed onto my lap.
We were moved into another room to
meet with the doctor. At just five weeks, our baby had stopped growing. By
eight weeks, we should have seen a heartbeat and a little baby the size of a
raspberry.
But that wasn’t to be.
We talked to the doctor and asked
questions. The office staff couldn’t have been nicer or more compassionate. One
blood draw later and we were on our way.
While we don’t know if the baby was
to be a boy or a girl, I named her April Joy. April for the month we knew we’d
be meeting her in heaven and Joy for the joy she brought to our lives.
I’m amazed at the sovereignty of God
and his grace and mercy. One of my first thoughts after receiving the news was,
“this is no surprise to Jesus.” I’m comforted in knowing that God is so much
bigger than this and He’s already holding April Joy until we meet her one day.
I never quite understood what it felt like to long for a place I’d never been
but today, I long for heaven and the day we’ll meet our baby.
We know now that this probably means
there was something abnormal with the pregnancy. And a miscarriage is my body’s
way of protecting me. While we’ll probably never know exactly what the
abnormality was, we do believe that it is God’s sovereignty that is allowing us
to experience this pain verses a miscarriage later in the pregnancy which would
be more dangerous for the baby and me.
I am sad, but I am grateful to know
a God who loves me, who knows the hairs on my head, and has written His name on
my heart. He’s still King and He still sits on the throne. As one of my
favorite authors, Lysa Terkeurst says, “God is good, God is good to me, God is good at being
God.”
Although I am sad and grieving, I
know we’re held closely by the Father who holds our baby. I know He mourns with
us, I know He entrusted a baby to us, and I believe that he’ll do it again. I
will worship Him and thank Him for the baby who was “fearfully and wonderfully
made.”
He makes all things work together
for our good. I believe that the very core of my being.
"I will remain confident in this: I will see the goodness of the Lord." Psalm 27:13
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Most days I wear a necklace with an
arrow hanging from it. Engraved on the side is Psalm 127 “Children are like
arrows in the hands of a warrior.” It’s fitting that in October, on the Annual
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day, I added a second arrow. I needed something to
remember our baby with; something to know the baby existed
– that for a few short weeks there was another life growing inside of me.
Thank you for reading our story.
You’ve been a part of our healing process and you’ve helped this to not feel
quite so scary. If you’re facing infertility or a miscarriage or a loss, I’d
love to hear your story. There is something powerful that happens when we
vocalize our pain.
