My Miscarriage

First off, I'm fine. I really am. And I'm going to tell you why. And then I'll tell you what happened but I'll section it off so if you don't want to know you don't have to read it. If you want to leave a comment, that's cool. But don't try to correct me. If you feel like anything that I've said here is wrong, go home pleased that you know better than me, but the information that I've put here makes me feel better. If I'm wrong about anything, ignorance is bliss...

Why are you airing this out on the internet?

1. I told people I was pregnant on the internet. So I'm telling people I'm not anymore. It's easier to air it on the internet than it is to tell people on a case by case basis, again and again, "actually, I had a miscarriage".
2. I'm a missionary and my personal life is pretty much my public life. Not many people send out a monthly newsletter. This kind of goes in hand with that. 
3. I think (and have had others confirm) that I have a healthy perspective on what's happened. Maybe others can benefit from my account. Who knows!

How are you feeling?

It's funny. I got this question a lot when I was at the hospital. And there.... I wasn't really doing all that hot. I mean I guess they were there to know if I was cold or if my pain levels had spiked any (although, when it did, no morphine was forthcoming....). But now it's over. Now it's final. And I'm ok. For three major reasons. 

1. I decided, the moment I found out I was pregnant, that I had a firstborn child, and this may or may not be that child. And it's not. I didn't lose my child. I lost getting to meet my child in June. It feels a lot better to know that God knows who my first child is. And in His timing He will give her to me. 
2. The doctor said that this miscarriage was decided at conception. That something was wrong with the baby. I know there are people who have had children with additional challenges and they've rocked being parents to them. But I don't know that I could. I'm afraid that such a circumstance would prohibit us from going to the field. I'm afraid I would resent the child for that. And I don't want to be that parent. I realize this isn't the prettiest side of me, but maybe God knew all that was true. And protected that poor child from me. 
3. It's easier to grieve over plans than it is memories. Normally when people die, you think about all those wonderful times you've had with them and now won't get to have again. That's hard to let go. I have to let go of plans, of expectations that may not have ever been met anyway. I have to let go of the super close friendship I was going to have with a girl two weeks more pregnant than I was. Let go of the prenatal yoga classes we were going to take together. Let go of the hospital tours. Let go of the Baylor Birthing Center. Let go of the idea that my first time admitted into a hospital would be to deliver my full term healthy child. Let go of seeing my kid in June. But that's easier to let go of than having the child and losing them soon after. 

The hardest part has really been telling people. Especially saying it. Seeing or hearing their responses. The outpouring of love has really been touching and that's, that's when the tears really start flowing. I've found it's been way easier to tell people via text and let them respond there and talk with them later. When their main objective is to keep my company and not to unwittingly make me cry. When the shock and the grief, and oftentimes the memories, aren't actively playing on their faces. It's easier then. 

What happened?

It was probably the week (9 weeks pregnant) before comps, I didn't feel pregnant anymore. I was searching for miscarriage symptoms and that was one. But everyone wrote me off. They told me you start to feel better and I guessed I was. It's probably better I didn't know then. I don't think I would have cared to take comps anymore. It's probably best I didn't know right after comps or my Thanksgiving break would have been ruined. Instead I had one beautiful day. 80 degree weather with a cool breeze, I had passed comps, I had just found out that the medical bills were miscommunicated by a decimal point in my favor. It was a good day. That night Jacob was at work and a friend called me that he needed a friend so I said we could go to a local coffee shop to talk. He was in the parking lot waiting for me to come out when I noticed I was bleeding. (11 weeks, 5 days) And instantly I was hysterical. I called the doctors and it was my doctor on call. He told me there was nothing I could do. Either the baby was fine or the baby wasn't fine but nothing I could do would make any difference. I had to wait until 9am. My best friend came over and sat on the couch with me until Jacob came home. 

The next morning, we had the ultrasound and there was no heartbeat. I wasn't fine at this point. There was much in the way of screaming and wailing at this point. We were eventually sent home only for me not to eat or drink until the D and C which would happen at three. We had to be there at 1:30. It was 9:30. 

It was at home we decided that we could sit around and be sad or we could sit around and be happy instead. So we made plans to order in Chinese and watch How I Met Your Mother in front of a roaring fire and enjoy a dessert course of Hot Peppermint Cocoa. But that would be after the appointment. Until then we watched the Nanny. 

When it was finally time to go, apparently it's procedure for you to tell them yourself why you're there. I didn't know the term for the procedure (D and C). So I just broke down crying instead. That happened a lot while we were there. 

My pulse was so high they felt the need to bring my husband back sooner than expected. Before they put the IV in, which they said they'd use localized anesthesia for. If they did, I'd hate to know what it would be like without the anesthesia! And then I was cold. 

The anesthesiologist came in. He was my favorite. He never once asked me how I was doing. He asked me if there was anything he could do for me. He asked if I would do him a favor in signing the forms. He actually made me think of Cinna from the Hunger Games. 

Finally they led me to the scariest room I think I've ever seen with my own eyes. There was a bed with places for them to restrain me. And while I had been so emotionally exhausted a moment before, I'm sure my pulse went right back up. I started crying again. The doctor said he was going to give me some medicine. But then my chest caught, my legs started tingling and so did my hands. "I don't like this! I do not like this!" And then I woke up in another room. Apparently it was over. The plans for the evening went into effect and it was good. 

So that's what happened. 

What can you do?

We get this question a bit too... And you're never really ready for this question. When I hear it, I'm all "'What can you do?' What do I do?!" But outside of the situation:

• You can pray. Pray that we have peace. Pray that I stop seeing that ultrasound when I close my eyes. Pray that we lean heavily on the Lord and that we stay close to each other. Pray that this feeling I have of acceptance and peace lasts. And pray that I can be happy enough to still be friends with my pregnant friend I mentioned because I really love her and I don't want to resent her happiness. 
• We also have some medical bills thanks to the hospital, OB, and anesthesiologist. If you'd like to help with those, gifts can be sent to:
  712 Pritchett Rd
  Lula, GA 30554.
  Checks made out to Pioneer Bible Translators are tax-deductible. Checks made out to us are not.   

Planning on Commenting?

Remember, if you disagree with me... I don't really care. I don't want to hear about it. Comments may consist of: encouragement, sympathies, and/or personal accounts. Thank you for your thoughtfulness during this time.