Sweet Comfort - our loss, part 2

I apologize for this novel in advance, but I promise (or at least I hope) it will be worth the read.

As continued from my previous post...

We visited with some of my family who met us at the ER -  I was so happy to see them waiting for me when we were making our exit. They met me with tears and prayer right outside the doors of Baptist Medical Center.

As much as I tried to hold it together, I remember Branch seeing me upset for the first time that night and with a confused face she'd say, "iss okay, mommy," and give all of her best 'big girl hugs' as we like to call them. My nerves were shot, and the emotions began to hit me in waves. There were moments when I felt peace come over me as I prayed and talked to God - telling Him every fear I had, and confessing how sorry I was if I let Him down in some way, and also thanking Him for every blessing. It was as if I was trying my best to cover all of my bases with Him and not let anything go left "unsaid."

That night and into the morning we notified close friends and family who knew we were expecting. Josh offered to call my Doctor's office the moment they opened. I couldn't do it. He told them everything while all I could do was sit in the other room, just knowing I'd burst into tears if I had to be the one answering those questions. He took me to get a coffee and held my hand the entire time as we made our way in for a 10:30 appointment that same morning.

They called us back from the waiting from. Only, this time I was escorted through the office door in the back corner - one I had never been asked to go through. To me, it instantly became the back door of sadness. But I was thankful for those nurses and the Doctor I met for the first time that day. I appreciated the fact that they were experts when it came to loss. They were gentle with me as I answered every question and expressed each concern with tears filling my eyes. They even sent me a card in the mail following that visit...

My regular Doctor was actually out of town until early the following week, so I made an appointment for the first available time he could do the Dilation & Curettage (D&C) surgery when he returned. I'm not entirely sure why I had made the decision on my own to proceed with the surgery - honestly, I wasn't even sure what the letters D&C stood for at the time, but I knew that I wanted to save myself from having to go through additional trauma and unnecessary pain, and I trusted my Doctor. 

The first words he said with a gentle smile that following Tuesday were, "it's been a while." I couldn't believe I hadn't seen him at all over the course of those 11 1/2 weeks. He was out-of-office on days I scheduled my early pregnancy visits, and that was okay with me since we were still in the first trimester of pregnancy. He reassured me that I had made the right decision, not knowing that I buried my face in my hands the moment I entered that pre-op room. And that for a split second I had almost told them never-mind this, and that I'd just rather go home and let things happen naturally. I'm so glad I didn't.

After surgery, they brought me back into the recovery room, and I immediately saw Joshua to my left and burst into tears asking, "Is it over?" I felt so relieved. And then I just asked him if he could play me a song from his iPhone. Sandra McCracken's, We Will Feast in the House of Zion. For some reason, I just wanted to lay and listen to the words of that song, which is rich in biblical truth. And to this day, worshiping to that song has been helping me heal. Just as soon as I was able to stand on my feet, I got dressed and my nurse wheeled me down to our vehicle. Joshua asked me how I felt  on our way home. I just remember looking out and seeing our city skyline and saying, "I don't know." Honestly, I felt everything and nothing at the same time. I couldn't process and form words regarding my feelings just yet. Days after, sweet cards, flowers and gifts arrived on our doorstep, and each time they did I just couldn't help but cry. I am so beyond thankful for every encouraging word and gift from each of our friends and family.

The following Friday, August 18th, I got a phone call from the office with the pathology results from the surgery, and what the nurse told me made me dizzy. She told me they had found "abnormal cells," and that I had experienced what's called a Partial Molar Pregnancy, or a "Hydatidiform Mole" - a noncancerous (benign) tumor that develops in the uterus. As she explained, only certain words stuck out to me - "Abnormal cells...Close watch..Blood tests...6 months." I lost the ability to process what she was saying almost completely.

Not only was I grieving, but now I had to face the unknown of what the following months would have in store for me - 6 months of measuring HCG levels and close monitoring to determine if there are any remnants of the molar tissue, until my levels safely reach less than five or better, zero. I remember being in my car alone after that conversation, and I immediately googled "Partial Molar Pregnancy" to see what information I could find. I visited Mayo Clinic's page on the condition to confirm I understood what that nurse had told me, only, what I found was that there can also be serious complications if any tissue is left behind - including a rare disease called Gestational Trophoblastic Disease. Basically, the possibility of cancer came into play. Not to mention, molar pregnancies occur approximately once every 1,000 pregnancies, with Partial Molar Pregnancies occurring even less frequently. And I was one of those rare cases.

I buckled my seat-belt, and I just remember thinking in my car that morning, "Ok God - I trust you with everything I have."

I opened my heart to Him and while He never left my side, He also opened my eyes to several very significant things through this situation:

•  Friendship is willingness to be interrupted for one another. Right before our miscarriage, I started a study on friendship, and this was one of the first key points. And through our struggles, God was providing real life examples of true, Biblical friendship. From my family showing up at the ER, to my friends showing up at our home, to them showing up in the moments leading up to me being wheeled back to the OR, to every card/meal/gift/text/call in between. It really made me appreciate the fact that through our pain, God unites us for His glory. Romans 12:15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn. God is very serious about His friendship with us, therefore, we should be serious about our friendship with others. The fact that my friends allowed the time to sit and talk with me when I just needed to say that I really wasn't fine and that some days were really overwhelming and hard, was everything. This is the way God intended friendship to be - a willingness to be detoured and interrupted to serve our friends in times of need. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of my sweet friends and family for the ways you served and prayed for us.

•  Our suffering is never meaningless, and it points us to the fact that we're sojourners on this earth - we're here for a short time. I asked God to change me, and to reveal His purpose in all of this. Prune me, kill my present sin, refocus my primary love on You. Walking away from this with strengthened faith meant much more to me than the disillusionment I might still be walking in otherwise. God was shifting my focus - maybe I needed to grasp more of what is unending, or eternal. There was also this idea that this was going to strengthen our church community, as several of our closest friends had also endured their own hardships throughout the past year or so. It seemed our families couldn't catch a break. But ultimately, I know we're being knit closer together as a result, sharpening one another in fellowship. Proverbs 27:17 As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.

To God, this was no rare case. This had tremendous purpose. He was, and still is, teaching me more about Him and instilling in me more trust than I could have ever imagined otherwise. For that, I'm so thankful.

whatever my God ordains is right - our loss, Part 1

Recently, I heard an author speak at a local church and she said something that stuck with me. She simply encouraged: "write down your story - you'll find God's fingerprints all over it." I'm not sure why, but I have thought about that statement ever since. Now I know that maybe God was telling me He could use my story if I let Him.

And granted, our stories all look very different - they're unique works of art. She may have been referencing a strange coincidence, and how she saw God come through and answer a prayer she and her husband had prayed many years before, and in a way that only God can do. But I'm here to say, answered prayer isn't the only way God leaves His fingerprints on our stories - sometimes it's through heartbreak and tragedy that He teaches us. And even during what feels like the darkest moments of our lives, (I'm also here to say) He's still good. Letting Him write our story is letting Him take control over our lives. Sometimes it even means he will choose to prune us - to cut away the ugly - in order to restore and use us. Our journey won't always be easy, but it WILL always be worth it. Fortunately, I learned this a long time ago. From the day we surrender to Christ until our last day on earth, our lives are a blank page for Him to write a novel for His glory. He chisels, He molds and shapes, He changes hearts, and He paints a picture of His grace along the way - all for His glory. As for me, I know He holds me in His hand... and whatever He ordains is right.

A piece of my story starts here:

On Sunday, July 2nd I woke up very sick. So sick that I wasn't able to make it to church, and I barely had enough strength to get up and do the things that are a part of my usual routine. I managed to lift Branch from her crib, pour her milk, and proceeded to lay down on the couch while she watched cartoons. Side note here: being sick and having to tend to a busy toddler on your own is hard, and in this moment I could not have cared less if she destroyed the entire house doing toddler things. The way I remember it, I spent most of the morning going back and forth from the bathroom to the couch, and I knew somewhere in between the sickness I should take a pregnancy test to confirm what I already suspected to be the cause. Luckily I had one test at home in a drawer, and I waited for results in the bathroom. Barely moving and refusing to even stand up,  I leaned over until it was within reach. It showed positive. When Joshua called to check in after church, I told him the news. We were expecting baby #2! But I'm sure there was no exclamation mark in my voice - I felt too terrible to even show excitement (later I confessed to him that I actually felt pretty guilty for that). He already knew, and just laughed. He can smell pregnancy hormones or something... I tried to calculate and we both suspected I was somewhere around 6 weeks.

On Monday I proceeded to schedule my confirmation appointment at my Doctor's office, which would be a few weeks out. At that point, we were thrilled. I think the next few days and weeks were spent talking about plans - where we'd put the crib, home projects we would need to take care of prior, whether we'd eventually sell our home, etc. Soon after I was even approached with a really great temporary job opportunity that would give us extra funds for the holidays and baby items, just in time for arrival - the nesting had only just begun, and I was already starting to show.

On July 25th we had our first sonogram. We found out that by then, the baby was measuring 9 weeks 1 day. Joshua wasn't there during the scan, but all of the signs of normal development were there, and I got to hear that sweet, strong heartbeat - a comforting sound to every parent of a new baby. I called him right away to let him know. Everything seemed fine over the next few weeks, until suddenly it wasn't.

August 10th, 16 days later, I woke up from a late afternoon nap to signs of miscarriage. What was happening to me and to the baby was obvious. We made the decision to go to the ER without notifying my Doctor - the office was closed and we figured we had no other choice since I had a significant amount of bleeding. The next few hours were a blur and some of the most miserable hours of my life. The ER is truly no place you want to be when you're losing a baby. I longed for familiar faces and to hear my own Doctor's voice.

They had ordered a sonogram, and we saw our baby for the last time. For Joshua, it was actually the first and last time. For me, after that it seemed like we waited and waited for an answer that no one wanted to give us. Sure, we knew - there was no heartbeat, after all. Personally, I just wanted that answer spoken to me right away. I was shivering, I felt weak, my head was pounding. I just wanted my husband to sweep me up and get me out of there. I wanted to go home and see my baby girl.

I've decided to save the rest of this story for later. For now, I rest in truth, and I continue to seek knowledge from Christ. Because the joy He gives even the deepest grief cannot take away.