"I prayed to the Lord, and He answered me. He freed me from all my fears. Those who look to Him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces. In my desperation I prayed, and the Lord listened; He saved me from all my troubles. For the angel of the Lord is a guard; He surrounds and defends all who fear him." ~Psalm 34:4-7
It's been a month now since Doug and I lost our little one. I'd be well into my second-trimester by now. Probably with a name picked out already, and maternity jeans starting to reappear in my closet. I'd be sure to do my chest presses and crunches on an incline and stay far away from my favorite peppermint mochas and sushi. But our date night last week ended at our favorite sushi spot and I got my first Starbucks of the season this weekend - bittersweet. I haven't had it in me yet to put away the pre-natal vitamins and my whole winter wardrobe still consists of beautifully bulky, high-waisted sweaters that I treated myself to when we found out we were expecting. The little things. Things I wouldn't have given any thought to before all this, set off the aches and involuntary tears.
When I went to the OB/GYN for my follow-up check a few days ago, I looked around in the waiting room and found myself surrounded by pregnant women and their anxious husbands. I even had to let one woman go before me in line because she was clearly overdue and obviously uncomfortable. I felt my face starting to burn up, heated with the overwhelming desire to feel the awkward agony that this 40-week pregnant mother was feeling. Oh what I would do to have that beautiful distress. My eyes welled up, but I managed to hold them back. Then the nurses smiled and welcomed me until they read my file, and then things quickly turned solemn with a lot of "I'm sorry for your loss" type things. As it's standard to do, I had to pee in a cup for a pregnancy test. "Think of it just for laughs," the doctor said. But I wasn't laughing. At the end of it all, the doctor told me everything was perfectly healed and my body seemed "ready again." "You can start trying whenever you want now," she said. Surprisingly, I didn't feel happy about that at all. I was glad she deemed me "normal", but I was prepared to wait months like the hospital had told me. But now we're actually talking about another baby? What about
this baby? The one I just lost. The one I'm mourning over still...that's what I want to talk about. I felt like an insane person about to cry over seemingly good news - emotions ricocheting and even contradicting each other, like only a woman's mind can do.
Before the miscarriage, I asked God to guard, surround, and defend my little baby. But like the Psalm above said, I also asked Him to free me from my fears. And when my fear came to pass, in my desperation, I prayed His Word through tears,
"Hear me God and be merciful to me; Oh Lord BE MY HELP. Turn my wailing into dancing, remove my sackcloth and clothe me with joy, so my heart can sing to you and not be silent, giving thanks to you forever." (from
Psalm 30:10-12)
Even though my hot tears fell again late last night at the realization that a month has passed and I still miss and ache for this baby immensely, but with God as my help, there has been much joy. Over and over, God has reminded me that through Him, I will meet this baby and my family will all be reunited in completeness and perfection one day. He has placed people and their shared experiences before me that have comforted and amazed me. And I have a new appreciation for my husband who not only took care of every physical need around me, but also tended to my heart like it was his full-time job. Such joy. And through all this, Doug's been creating a beautifully carved wooden frame for weeks now to showcase our baby's ultrasound and heartbeat image; it's nearly finished. Not to mention, we finally have found a home. We've been given the opportunity to rent an old farmhouse complete with horses for neighbors, a wrap-around porch, and plenty of room for our kids to play and grow. Amazingly, we should be moved in by next week! I am so looking forward to hanging our memorial frame in the playroom, alongside of pictures of Baileigh and Dougie. Turning my wailing into dancing, removing my tattered sackcloth and dressing me in joy. My heart will not be silent. I will sing - forever.
Sometimes I really am searching for my lost shaker of salt... not for my margaritas, I'm out of that phase of life now. But honestly lacking in spiritual saltiness.
