Story of a Miscarriage

I want to tell the story of losing my baby. I don't know if it's inappropriate or too personal for a blog. I don't even know if I'll ever publish this; but if I don't just get all these words out of me I might just explode.

We found out that we were pregnant on January 31, 2009. Both sets of our parents were visiting us - helping us clean our house and get it ready to put on the market. We didn't tell anyone. That day was unreal for me. Even though I was doing work - I was floating. I saw that plus sign as so many promises being fulfilled.

We waited another week and took another test. It too came out with a little plus sign and was just too wonderful to believe. We decided that day to call the grandparents and the new aunts and uncles to let them know. We would still wait a little longer to share with extended family and friends.

At 8 weeks we shared the news with our church family and our extended family. Everyone was so excited for us and we were so excited too. We had tried for a year for this baby and had been using fertility drugs for two months. This was a baby that God had promised me since I found out that I would have trouble conceiving when I was only 15. I was going to be a momma...and God was so good.

At 10 weeks we had just finished a trip to my husband's family to celebrate the marriage of his cousin. It was so wonderful. We shared the news with my husband's 93 year-old grandfather and the rest of the family. We talked about the future and our little baby. Hubby's mom even bought me a few little maternity items as I was starting to show just a little. We spent the whole drive home discussing names.

We came back home on a Monday. I started bleeding on a Tuesday and was fully miscarrying by Wednesday afternoon. It was the worse pain ever - the cramps were unbearable - almost as unbearable as knowing that I couldn't control what my body was doing to my cherished little one.

I took those moments to talk to the baby. To tell it how much Daddy and I wanted it. How sad we were that we would never meet him. I prayed for our little one and explained to the baby that God would take such better care of him than we ever could. I cried. I wept. I told the baby that any pain would end soon. It might be considered a futile act, but I needed it.

I bled through towels, sheets, clothing, our couch. Finally, I gave up and just sat naked in our bathtub. It was at this time that I passed what was recognizably our baby. It was heart-breaking, mesmerizing, and precious that God would give us the opportunity to look upon our little one just once.

I was in "active" miscarriage mode until about 4am. I just sat there for hours pushing...cleaning out my body - knowing that this was more natural and less emotionally scarring than a D&C. Hubby laid in our bed and listened to me just groan and moan. He checked on me often. He prayed and cried. I came to bed a little after 4am. I fell face down and just laid there numb to it all.

I woke up this next day - kept bleeding - kept crying. I read my bible and prayed. Hubby went and bought doughnuts and chocolate milk. We made coffee and just sat. Neither of us knowing what to say that would be of comfort. Both of us, taking our little moments to just weep. Not knowing how we were going to tell people - and immediately regretting telling them in the first place.

It's been a 2 weeks today...God is still so good.

God bless my Little Poppyseed. God bless my womb. God bless the babies to come.