I drove in for the follow up ultrasound in a fairly good mood. I wasn't nervous or tense like the last one a week ago. that one I couldn't get the feeling to shake off of me that something was wrong. I knew that I was undergoing some extreme stress due to the loss of my business, and was still struggling with some major decisions. the dr advised me that due to some physical symptoms occurring I had to cut out as much stress as soon as possible.
do you know what happens when someone says cut out "stress"? you start to stress about the stress that is surrounding your stress. nevertheless, it helped me be brave about some decisions I had been postponing in desperate attempts to save things. and save other people's feelings. and not lose face. but at this point, I honestly didn't care. When it comes between pleasing people or protecting your health and your baby’s life, the decisions feel pretty trivial.
but as soon as the follow up ultrasound started I had a sinking feeling. the ultrasound tech grew quiet from the mundane chit chat about morning sickness. I noticed the baby wasn't bigger than last time. she checked the heartbeat. it wasn't there anymore. she then checked the size of baby, it hadn't grown since last week. the day of my last ultrasound, that day when we saw the flickering heartbeat. that was the last day of life.
I didn't start sobbing until I tried to leave the office. "these things happen." "statistically" "it wasn't meant to be" "every woman..." blah blah blah. All of these sayings were going through my head. I knew that we'd beaten the odds with first trimester statistics with never losing a baby before or during our four children. but 4 years ago I suffered an ectopic pregnancy, and that was devastating. even though there wasn't a heartbeat that time, and we hadn't planned on that baby, the ending still crushed me to my core. somehow I naively believed that this baby was my rainbow baby (a blessing after a loss). I believed I wouldn't be asked to lose another child. I believed it would be the greatest gift for our family. all of those beliefs had dissolved in a few solitary moments.
I let the emotions wash over me. I cried. I wailed. I screamed. I sobbed. over and over and over again. I drove home the entire hour trying to feel it all, and at times it was overwhelming. why do we have to suffer loss like this? why? why do women have to go through this when they have willingly risen their hand when it was time to ask who will carry the next little spirit into this world? I was willing. I was filled with love. my husband was willing. he was filled with love for this little one. WHY?
in a dumb move I decided to still stop at Walmart to get a few things (really, really dumb move) and quickly realized I couldn't handle the emotions in public. I was stifling sobs around every aisle corner. and as I checked out I looked around at the faces before me. now Walmart is already a very sad place for me, I feel like it's always filled with a lot of sad, desperate, lonely and hopeless souls. and this time I saw all of that and something else, none of these people felt wanted. they didn't feel wanted or loved by their parents, or anyone really. I could feel it. and the anger just exploded. I want this baby. I am ready to love this baby. why is the methhead allowed to be born and not my baby? why is the unwanted teen pregnancy allowed to be born and not my baby? this baby is so incredibly WANTED.
and then in a silent breath I felt the words,
"everyone is wanted. everyone is loved.”
and I started sobbing again for a different reason. I could feel and see God's love for every lonely face around me. it was overwhelming. it is stronger than any emotion I can describe. maybe they don't feel loved from their parents, and maybe they never have, but parents are human. and unfortunately most of theirs haven't felt God's unending and unconditional love before, or sometimes ever. and if you don't know God, and you can't feel His love, you can't share it. you only know how to love conditionally. you judge. you condemn. you punish. most of these things you do to yourself first, because you feel unworthy. unloved. disconnected.
so the sadness I felt now wasn't for my baby, but for these lost souls living a Hell on earth inside of them. I wanted to hug all of them and tell them, "you are loved. you are perfect. you are whole". I was and am extremely grateful for that experience. that tender mercy, it gave me strength that day. I still feel angry. and I still feel like my heart has been mashed into a thousand pieces and I'm just looking at them on the floor not knowing how they ever, ever, ever will be able to be put back together again.
but...I know of God's love for me. I know of his Love for you. and I know that nothing can separate me from his unending love. Romans 8 has been a very comforting chapter in the Bible for me lately, and it teaches of God's love for us. Romans 8:35-39 is what I will leave here:
" Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.
Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.
For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
I am a sheep for the slaughter. But through him, I am a conquerer. I will grieve. I will be sad. this is going to be a long slaughtering of my soul. but no height or depth can separate Christ's unending light and love from me. nor you. I hope that gives you as much peace as it does me.
I don’t know how to tell the kids. I don’t know how to smile right now. I don’t know what to say if anyone brings it up. I don’t know a lot things, but I know this. I am loved. Despite my flaws and selfish ways, I am loved. I can get through this. Even if I never receive an answer to why, I trust my God. I trust his ways. That doesn’t mean I won’t be angry and sad about what happened. I still have to grieve. But I have that lifeline to hold onto. For that, I am incredibly grateful.