I'm That Girl...

Did you see me?
Sitting in my car on Tuesday. Listening to KLove with tears streaming down my face.
Did you notice me?
Walking slowly through Target, holding my breath and wincing with each step.
Did you understand?
That while helping you choose a gown for the happiest day of your life that I was undergoing the absolute saddest day of mine.
I'm that girl...

I had a miscarriage.  I was at work and I lost one of the most precious things I had ever been given.  I was pregnant. Almost eleven weeks along.  To be honest, I didn't actually believe it when I initially found out.  I was still experiencing a light, but average cycle, so I just assumed I wasn't and that the symptoms I was feeling were all in my head.  But two home pregnancy tests and confirmation from my doctor a week ago, put me at about eleven weeks based on my hormone levels.  He explained that it is common in about 30% of pregnancies to experience a cycle for the first trimester, sometimes longer.  I don't have a doctor here in Memphis. However, during prom season I had held a dress for a young lady a day longer than we normally hold items and her mother had given me a card for her husband's practice which was close to my work.  What a blessing she and her husband have been to me. They set me up with an OBGYN, for which I have an appointment tomorrow. He did his best to reassure me that everything looked good. And so I was cautiously optimistic.
And then the next day, it was over. As quickly as I had been given the greatest news, I began having cramping and heavier bleeding.  I believed that I had miscarried on Tuesday morning. I called the OB office and a nurse told me that she believed I had, based on what I told her, had a miscarriage as well, and that I should keep my appointment for Monday so I could establish a relationship with them and so that they could check me out properly.  She said there was no need to seek medical attention unless the bleeding worsened.  So, I cried. And then I went to work.  And I cried in a dressing room, and in the break room, and managed to get it together long enough to leave a little early and see a few clients.  I spent Wednesday in bed. I was angry at God, I am still angry.  I yelled at him, I cried to him, I prayed to him, and I yelled some more.  On Thursday I was better.  The grief came in waves, but I was managing it with the help of my most wonderful husband. He was and has been my rock in all of this.  As have been my parents and some of my closest sisters.  Friday we decided we needed to get out so we went to dinner and a movie.  We laughed...a lot. I cried a little.  As I said, I am one blessed girl.
On Friday evening, the cramping got a little worse, but I just figured it was my body's way of cleaning itself out and that it would pass.  By Saturday morning I felt better and I went in to work.  I started cramping at work to the point where it would wash over me in waves. And then it happened.  The actual miscarriage. I watched as I passed the small amniotic sac, and my heart broke all over again. And to make matters worse, I was at work.  I managed to get to my phone to let my husband know that I was probably going to need to go to the ER after work.  But then the true bleeding started, and it wouldn't stop. I left without more than a brief word as my husband rushed me to the ER.
I called my parents on the way and my mom immediately left to be with me. I don't remember a lot about my time at the ER except that I was in so much pain that I couldn't stop shaking.  I had to wait for the ultrasound before they would give me anything for the pain. I waited two hours....squeezing my husbands hand until I was sure I was going to break his fingers. And it wasn't just the physical pain, but the emotional pain all over again that sent me reeling. And please don't comfort me by letting me know that now I will know what to expect with labor pain...knowing your excruciating pain will, in the end, produce a child is completely different than knowing that your excruciating pain is the end of life within you.  The staff at the ER were incredible. I was checked out thoroughly...insured that there was nothing wrong, that this just happens...that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it.

And I heard every word, as I have heard all week.  Here are the things I know: I know that I should look at the positive...I got pregnant.  I know that I didn't do anything to cause this to happen.  I know that God still loves me, and mourns with me and for me.  I know that I have amazing family and friends.

But it doesn't make it easier.  The simple fact, is that I prayed to God to save this pregnancy. I have prayed with my husband every night for a family of our own.  And I grieve for a loss that 75% of the world doesn't consider a loss at all.  With young women posting videos of themselves going through abortions because it is "their body, their choice," I feel sick that someone who aborted their child because they weren't responsible enough to prevent pregnancy in a random hook up is proud of their "right" and their "choice" while women who want nothing more than to be mothers are struggling to be just that. And every pregnancy that follows this one will send me into a small panic because of this experience.  I pray that I never repeat it, but ultimately God is in control of my story.

So I am listening to KLove. I am sitting in my car, with tears streaming down my face...shaking my fists at the sky and shouting at my heavenly father. Because as my good friend Violet pointed out, God is okay with me shouting and being angry...because it means that I am still speaking to Him. Still sharing my life with Him. Heartbroken by his not stepping in to work a miracle in my story. But I keep talking to Him. And when I can't talk to Him, my momma, who has been here since last evening, has spoken to him on my behalf. And my husband prays for our family to grow and be blessed.  And for our faith to not waiver. And my daddy and my brother and my sweet sweet friends have called and sent texts and loved on us from afar.  I am so blessed to know such love, which is the reason that I want to share that love with children of my own.  Because the alternative to having faith that it will happen is believing that I am nothing more than a giant pawn in a chess game created by life...and that simply won't do.

God hears our brokenness. His heart breaks with ours.  My prayer is that I will be a mommy one day.  And I have faith that He will bless us with children.  In His time as a part of His plan.  But for now my prayer is that he heals my body naturally.  That my follow up goes well tomorrow and that my body is doing it's job.

Maybe I shared too much. Maybe not.  Every person's experience is different, but I am a talker, and I need to share my story to help me make sense of it all. For all of you who have traveled this road with me, a thousand thank yous. I feel your constant prayers and I still covet them.  I am thankful for my sweet mom who put Mother's Day on hold to cater to me today.  Who is staying an extra day to take me to the doctor since my love cannot.  She is a true example of selfless love and I wouldn't last a day without her. 

This song has been getting me through this week...listen.

Light and love to all of my sisters who have experienced the devastating loss of a pregnancy. 

God is greater than our greatest sorrows.
God is the redeemer of our greatest dreams and the dreams we don't dare to dream.

God is love.