Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Friday the 13th

If you're caught up on this week's posts, you are already prepared for what I am about to share. If you haven't stopped by since last week, pop back on over to Monday's post for a quick update before you read on.

There have been so many posts that I have started and left unfinished since the miscarriage. Anytime I felt the Lord put it on my heart to share, I never really could get up the courage to do so; to put myself out there; to be so open, so vulnerable.


And somehow, I knew a time would come when I would be ready. Just as my Dad said, God would make it clear when the moment was right. Knowing this, whenever I experienced those rare moments of clarity amidst the storm, I did my best to put to words all that was in my heart throughout the grieving process. 


Today's post relives that dreadful day, May 13. Just two days after Luis' birthday; just a week after a blessed time with my Mom, who had come to visit us. A week filled with baby gifts and early baby preparations and much dreaming of our new life with this little one. And while I'm not a superstitious person and I don't believe in luck, Friday the 13th will forever be a painful reminder of what we experienced.

At the first sight of blood, I knew. The tears came, and wouldn't stop. I parked myself on the couch per my doctors orders, and for the sake of my sanity, for the rest of the evening. I called my parents, seeking reassurance that everything was going to be okay. I sat there pleading with God. Bargaining. Begging.

I read Psalm 139 over and over, 


13"For you created my inmost being;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
   your works are wonderful,
   I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
   when I was made in the secret place,
   when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
   all the days ordained for me were written in your book
   before one of them came to be."

knowing that God held our child in His hands; that He knew the plans He had for him or her and I just prayed and prayed those plans included life with us, on this earth.  

My pleas were but wasted breath, as the first images of the ultrasound came on the screen, images that did not show a growing baby like the ones before, and the words came from the doctor's mouth "Der Schwangerschaft ist nicht in ordnung", words that did not carry hope. 


The words have echoed in my mind, haunted me, for the past six months. "Nicht in ordnung" over and over, louder, and louder. There were days I thought they would never shut up. And yet slowly, with time and much prayer, they have begun to fade into the distance. 

All my fears of a miscarriage had proved to be true. And just when I had finally surrendered those fears and was beginning to feel like the whole pregnancy thing was actually going to go well.

Despite the fears, it's one of those things that you think will never happen to you. And when it does, it's unimaginable. The fragility of life becomes all too real; becomes so much more than an understanding of such a simple truth, but rather a painful feeling, deep inside, that is forever burned in your heart.

From the moment we left the doctors office, we were in shock. Heading home to pack my bag for the hospital. Driving to the hospital. Walking up to maternity floor, step by painful step, far sooner than either of us had imagined, for reasons completely opposite from what we had dreamed of every day in the three months prior.


I could see the looks on people's faces. The nurses, the doctors, their eyes filled with compassion; ran deep with sympathy. The hurt that they felt for us was written all over their faces, as if they were saying, "You're so young. Much too young to have to face something so cruel. You shouldn't have to experience such heart wrenching pain so early in life." 


And yet God, in his sovereignty, allowed it.

As we left the hospital, I couldn't help but feel like something was missing. And in fact something was. A piece of me was gone. A piece of me that I can never get back. 

I woke up the next morning, my stomach thin and flat, as if the last three months were but a dream; as if I had never been pregnant. A flat stomach, something so many women work hours in the gym for, myself included, and yet I hated it. Absolutely hated it. 


I hated it for what it meant. That our baby was gone. That the life that was once forming in my womb was no more. That the questions I had of what our baby would look like--would they be dark like Luis? Have green eyes like me?--or what kind of personality he or she would have--shy, rambunctious, funny, curious?--they would forever go unanswered.

I was left to figure out how to undo the plans I had made for the next 6 months. I was forced to unravel the dreams I had spun for the next 18 years. And I was faced with the challenge of accepting a new reality; a reality that was so far from the one that had already become so firmly established in my mind of what the future held for us and our growing family.

4 comments:

Dublin gal said... Best Blogger Tips

You're very brave to write so openly about what you went through. Very heartfelt and touching post, Cara.

Morgan and Tyler said... Best Blogger Tips

You are amazing Cara and so brave to put everything out for everyone to see. I can't imagine the pain and hurt that you an Luis have experienced. I can only hope and pray the day will soon come when you are blessed with another life. Your unending faith is such an inspiration. Lots of love :)

Anonymous said... Best Blogger Tips

It's late, Dad is asleep, I am crying and sad that I couldn't have still been ther visiting when it all happened. Thanks for writing and sharing this. It makes me very aware of the fact that no Mom can spare her child from experiencing pain. You couldn't do it for your baby and I couldn't do it for you. Praise God He is there for us all and in it all the way.

Madison Mayberry said... Best Blogger Tips

What a touching, deeply personal post, Cara. Thank you so much for having the courage to share what God put on your heart and the experience that you and your family went through. Your faith and your bravery despite everything is going to do great things and touch others lives in ways you don't even know.

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