The Pain of Miscarriage

No sooner did we announce the pregnancy that- like a cruel joke- we have to rescind.  And on April Fools day too.     We are so sorry guys, we are not having a baby after all.

When we first noticed the bleeding, we figured it was something normal, the body trying to menstruate or the cervix stretching out, but as it continued we started to get worried.  Both of us frantically searched the internet looking for good news.  We saw things we liked, things we didn’t like, and things that horrified us.  We prayed for God to save us from what we did not want to face.  We prayed for signs and for miracles.  One thing was for sure, we had to get out of Utah and get back home.

When we got to Nevada, Theresa came into the bedroom with a smile.  “Things are looking better!” she said, “Maybe it has stopped now and everything is fine.”  Our friends and family members made us feel better when they told us, “oh yea, this happens.  It’s normal” and so on and so on.  We put it out of our minds and continued our trip home.  Kanan was being so good, he even used the “big potty” a few times on his own (peppered with accidents here and there- sorry AM/PM), and we were feeling better.  Then, it started all over again.

I knew by the tears streaming down her face that something was different- maybe even worse.  Her head shaking confirmed that feeling.  We didn’t say anything to each other.  We just hugged and cried.  Even Kanan knew something was up.  He just sat in the back seat oblivious- and Kanan is never oblivious.  He always knows when Mama is crying.  We still had 4 hours to go before we got to California so we just kept driving, praying, and crying.

When we got into town, Mike picked up Kanan and we rushed to the Doctor.  She saw us right away and sent us to the hospital for more tests.  Once there, the tech informed us that although she knew the results she could not share them with us for legal reasons.  Theresa got an ultrasound and I kept my face down on my Ipod.  I wouldn’t know what I was looking at anyway and didn’t want to get all confused.  It would just hurt more.  Besides, I was feeling foolish anyway.  I mean, just 10 hours ago we were announcing to my family that we were pregnant and posting status updates on facebook.  We were 8 weeks in.  We had just seen the doctor 3 days ago and she didn’t mention anything like this.

We got a call a few hours later from the doctor, it went to voicemail.  When we called back we were transferred to an answering service that did not know how to contact the doctor.  In a panic and in my jammies, I ran out the door and drove to her office (a block away).  Locked out, I climbed over the wall, jumped onto the roof before sliding down the palm tree and into her office courtyard.  From there I began to knock on her office door and the windows.  No luck.  Lights were out.  That’s when my phone rang.  It was Theresa.  The doctor had called her back.

She told us that we would not know for sure but that no case like this had ever not resulted in a miscarriage.  There was no reason to think we were different.  I got home to find my wife writing in pain as her body terminated the pregnancy.  I watched her laugh at the Brian Regan DVD we were watching then grab her belly and scream.  She got Vicatin.  I got a bottle of wine.  We sat there together in awkward silence while the baby died inside of her.

Today was a harder day.  The test results came back as we expected.  It was a chromosomal disorder common to 98% of American miscarriages.  No abnormalities per se, just a bad deal.  There is no reason to expect we cannot conceive again and carry to term although that’s what the doctor said last time too.  We’ve received a rush a phone calls, texts, and emails from friends and family who want to know “what’s happening.”    You have all been great.  We are dreading the sob stories and elongated conversations as (praise God) we have not received any yet.  Just condolences and offers of support.  We appreciate it.  Anything more than “I’m so sorry and I love you” is too much.  We just need to deal with this.  After all, the baby is still inside her and there will come a time very soon when it will pass.  I dread that day.  I cannot even imagine what that will do to my wife.  In addition to all her pain, it is still not over.

There is no way of knowing the larger reason of why this happened.  Biologically we know that the body did not want a deformed pregnancy and so nature took its course.   Spiritually, we know we are dealt a blow and must either cling or withdraw.  We choose to cling.  God did not take our baby, no.  Adam took the fruit and thereby allowed sin and deformation, death, and decay to encroach on God’s perfect World.  We never held our child, we never saw him breath or cuddled him while he slept.  Perhaps this happened to teach us greater compassion.  For as we mourn the loss of our unborn child, my sister and thousands of other parents are watching their children live with terrible diseases.   And as we are hurting we know they are hurting and we all hurt together.  Perhaps all of us loving on each other and sharing the love that God has blessed us with will cure the pain of miscarriage.


One thought on “The Pain of Miscarriage

  1. Pingback: A lot Can Change in 10 Years: My Birthday Reflections | TheEntrepreneurialWife

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