Thursday, October 3, 2013
I had lots of plans for this week. Monday was the Science Center with the kids and Chris to see the new Elmo exhibit. Tuesday morning was my incredible Mom's Bible Study at church. We had thought after naps on Tuesday we would take the kids to IKEA to get me some fun stuff to organized my laundry room. It was my birthday week so that's what I wanted-organized laundry! But why did I want an organized laundry room? Because I was 10 weeks pregnant with our third baby. When I'm pregnant, I thrive on projects that keep me organized. I nest all 9 months! Drives Chris nuts. On Thursday we had a fun play date to see our old neighbors and I was so excited to talk about this third pregnancy with them. Friday was my birthday! I would be 26. So blessed at 26, with three babies, a sweet husband, precious friends, and an amazing church. So very, very blessed. It had been such a season of encouragement for me over the past few months. A season filled with incredible community through our church and our sweet friends. My cup, was, and is overflowing. But at 1pm on Tuesday it all came crashing down on me. My body, gave me away. My finite body, made of clay, 26 years old, my body that was just showing signs of a third pregnancy, let me know that things were not okay. Very suddenly that afternoon, I saw signs of a miscarriage. I tried to walk into the living room to tell Chris we needed to go to the hospital, but I made it halfway before I began weeping. My precious friend Jessie (who was there to keep Ben for me when we had Christopher Robin) showed up soon at the front door with her two little guys in tow, to keep our boys while we headed to Winnie Palmer. I felt such a different wave of emotions come over me as I said good bye to the boys and headed to the hospital. Completely different feeling than when I left Ben with Jessie to bring him home a baby brother. We got in the car and I could not form sentences. My sadness had swept over me. And Chris has learned in the years we've been married, that my instincts are never wrong. He just held my hand. We parked and Chris was walking really fast to get to labor and delivery triage. I begged him to slow down. I could feel I was losing this baby with every step. I just wanted to slow down, I wasn't ready. I needed more time. We finally made it to triage, got in a room, and a doctor confirmed that our baby was gone and I was most likely experiencing a miscarriage. She held my hand as tears fell down my face, told me how sorry she was. "You don't understand" I told her. "I was made for this. I love my babies". She started to tear up and walked out so Chris and I could have some time. I curled into a ball, and felt deep, gut wrenching sobs take over my body as Chris held me. I know life, and I know death, so very well. They are both incredibly intertwined in my life. But I just wasn't ready for this loss. This sweet little life growing in me, leaving my body before it was my time for her to leave. We came home, and I walked through the miscarriage over the next few days. I've never felt such physical pain, and grief at the same time. I felt like it was happening to someone else. Surely, this wasn't my body going through this! I had two healthy babies already! Miscarriages don't happen to people like me. But they do sweet friends. They do. I cried more than I've cried in a very long time. And the truth in all of this, is that I'v felt this grief before. No, not the loss of a child from my own body, but the loss of a brother. As the waves of grief overwhelmed me as each pain hit my body, reminding me, that my sweet baby was gone, I recalled that I've felt loss before. I've felt grief. And I know this to be true even in the midst of real pain and real sadness: 10 weeks was enough. 10 weeks was what brought the Lord glory. 10 weeks seems too short. Not enough time I kept saying. I need more. More. More. More. Please. But our sweet baby was already in glory. While I was weeping in pain and begging for the miscarriage to stop, the Lord has already taken our precious baby into his arms. Our baby knew no pain. She was dancing in the arms of her Uncle Ben, before the King. 10 weeks glorified Him best. 10 weeks was enough time. I find myself very weak and feeling so empty now. I hope to take the next few weeks and months, slowly. My prayer is that we will allow ourselves the grace to grieve this sweet baby. I'll leave you with a quote from Jim Elliot: "So I put you on the altar...But what is to be done with the ashes?" Out of the ashes, beauty will rise.