The Other Half

Jared's process of grief has been much slower than mine.  Once we found out, I was numb for 1-2 hours and then unable to function in society for the rest of that day and the next.  I took that time to be in denial, to be angry at God, to be inconsolably weepy, and then to receive comfort from friends, family and eventually, God.  That week got a little better, a little easier to go on, each day.

At this point, 5 weeks to the day after we found out about the miscarriage, I feel fully functional and at peace.  I feel like I have gained closure and that my relationship with God and Jared have been stretched, but both have grown stronger.  Every once in a while, I will see something or remember something and a wave of grief will come over me and I cry.  I can't wait to stop bleeding from the D&C, to get my period, and then to start working on getting pregnant again.  But at the same time, I am apprehensive about getting pregnant again--I won't ever be able to fully enjoy pregnancy again, because I'll be worried if something is going to go wrong.

Jared is, just now, angry at God and feeling distant from Him.  He feels despair and great sadness, and has close to zero desire to start working to get pregnant again.  As there is No Normal in the grief process, I support him in wherever he happens to be and however long it takes him to work through things.  I've encouraged him to read in his Bible individually, tell God how he feels, and talk to some of the husbands who've been part of a miscarriage.  Obviously, I can't make it better for him, but what I hope is to just be a helper for him, a comfort and a friend who can make this just a little more bearable.

Lost It

Just opened up the mail, had a "explanation of benefits" letter from my health insurance.  At the bottom, it said, "covered by global maternity network".  And I lost it.  Squatting in the kitchen, balancing by holding the refrigerator handle, and sobbing like there was no tomorrow.

This is what normal looks like to someone who's experienced a miscarriage.

Waiting to Move on

It's been three weeks since my D&C surgery.  It's been 4.5 weeks since we found out about the miscarriage.  It's been six weeks since the actual miscarriage.  Part of me feels like it's been ages, and part of me feels like it's still brand new information.

I am still bleeding.


I'm involved this week with our church's version of Vacation Bible School, and yesterday I did a monologue of the woman who had been bleeding inside for twelve years, who was healed by touching Jesus' robes.  On the inside, I sort of hoped for a miracle, that God would dry up my bleeding as I did my monologue, pretending to be someone that it actually happened to.  


I am so, so tired of being reminded of my grief and loss every time I go to the bathroom.  I just want to be better.  I just want to be permitted to complete my healing.  


And I want the world to know that this is Okay.  It is okay for me to not be alright.  It is okay for me to continue grieving, more than a month later.  This child was alive, and it died.  That is an aching loss that will take more than just a surgery and a few weeks' time.  


I have kept very busy these last few weeks--various doctor appointments, visiting friends, preparing for a large party this weekend, VBS, end-of-school-year stuff.  Part of this is a help, because it keeps my mind from dwelling on the sadness.  But the other part is that I feel too busy, like the margin in my life is gone and I'm living in a continual crisis-mode.  And that wears me down, physically, mentally and emotionally.  






Angel, I miss you.  I love you so much.     

Lapse

Faith in Things Unseen feels like it was a lot easier to keep up with--probably because there was actual, exciting things to report and document.  These days, I'm waiting to stop spotting and for my hgc levels to go back down to 0.  Right now they're at 60, meaning my body is taking its sweet time figuring out that I'm not pregnant anymore.  The longer it takes to get my hormones down to 0, the longer it'll take for my body to start doing things normally, the longer it'll take me to get a period again, and the longer it'll take for Jared and me to start trying again.  If I were to stop spotting tomorrow, it'd still be 3-4 weeks before a period started, and 7 weeks before we could try (hoping my cycle is still the normal 28 days).

I'm getting conflicting information about trying again so early, though.  One midwife told me that fertility is higher in the first three months after miscarriage and the chances of miscarrying again are lower during that time.  A second midwife told me that one should wait 2-4 months after miscarriage to start trying again, saying that fertility is higher/chance of miscarriage is lower AFTER three months.  Information on the internet is across the board, so I have no idea what's best.

Life is hard right now, and a little depressing.  Jared likes his new job (been there three months now) but the newness has worn off.  He just got a new car, but payments are due and the accounts are stretched.  I've got two weeks left of a school year that just doesn't seem to quit.  Every day, I feel like I'm busy "doing stuff" instead of doing some actual living.  Family is being a little difficult right now.  And hovering in the back of my mind is Angel.  No one talks about it anymore.  No one asks me how I'm doing now.  It's still been less than a month.

I feel like pregnancy loss should be given more respect.  Even if that baby never breathed, they still lived, and they still died.  Mothers of angel babies should be given the time and sympathy to mourn and grieve out these losses just like if a spouse or parent or living child had died.  While I do want to move on with my life, I don't ever want to forget Angel, and I never want anyone else to forget her either.

Baby Envy

I have eleven Facebook friends who either just had a baby or are pregnant now.  And it is HARD.  I didn't expect the jealousy and bitterness I feel towards these girls--I'd always been happy for them and their accomplishments, marriages, etc.  But now that they are pregnant/a mom, I almost want to unsubscribe from them so that I don't hear anything about it.  And it kills me when they complain.  "My morning sickness is so bad today!" "Baby didn't let us sleep at all last night!"  The socially unacceptable part of me wants to tell them, "You HAVE morning sickness.  Be grateful." "You HAVE a baby keeping you awake.  Be thankful."  But I say nothing.  I'd rather not even offer a congratulations, because it would be completely fake.  I can't find it in myself to be genuinely happy for these girls.  

I went to a baby shower yesterday for one of my friends--a woman who's a little different than what I've been writing about.  I met her when she was already pregnant.  And when she found out that I was pregnant, she immediately came alongside me to offer support and advice.  I felt like she was the mother duck to my duckling, in a comforting and warm sort of way.  And when she found out about my miscarriage, she was even more present, calling me daily to check on me and telling me how I was loved and prayed for.  For her, I can honestly be happy.  But, three of the other attendees were pregnant, and talking about when they were due and all the plans they had.  I was seated next to another friend, one who's had a short history of miscarrying and infertility.  I whispered to her, "This is hard."  And she whispered back, "Me too."

I have to assume this is normal, and that it will ease with time.  I'm sure it will dissipate once I'm pregnant again.

My follow-up appointment is Wednesday at the Women's Birth and Wellness Center, where I was making plans to have my own birth.  I hope to get a good report, and that my period will come back quickly and be regular, and that Jared and I can start trying again.  The goal is to be pregnant by September.

I've had a miscarriage.

I'll be bluntly honest from the start--it's been a week since I had to have a dilation and curettage surgery to complete my miscarriage of Jared's and my first baby.  I was ten and a half weeks pregnant when the heart stopped.  A week and a half later, we went in for our first ultrasound, suspecting nothing.  Our hearts were shattered, hopes dashed and our faith in God taken on a roller coaster ride.

But in the two and a half weeks since we found out, Jared and I have been, as strange as it sounds, blessed.  We immediately started growing closer as a couple, supporting each other instead of blaming each other.  We received so much love and so many prayers from friends and family, far and near.  Many women told me about their own miscarriage experiences.  And eventually, Jared and I found that our faith in God, while tested, grew stronger and we learned to walk even closer with Him.  And I can honestly say that I have closure--I think about my pregnancy and Angel (we don't know if it was girl or boy, but they're an Angel now) in passing, perhaps once a day.  But I don't dwell on it, and I don't feel overly sad anymore.  And I'm not ashamed of it.

I kept a blog of the whole pregnancy and grieving process, and to streamline, here's a link to Faith in Things Unseen.  I had kept the blog secret until we told everyone the pregnancy news, which was about the same time Angel passed away, unbeknownst to us.  I like to blog and, since Jared and I are going to start trying again very soon, I didn't want to continue on a public blog.  So, here we are.

I explained in great detail why we chose to call our first blog Faith in Things Unseen.  Little did I know how applicable that title would become.  Our new blog is titled, "All Things New".  It doesn't seem to need that much of an explanation, but it does have roots.  There's a song that I've been listening to a lot by Steven Curtis Chapman.  His young daughter was killed four years to the day that we found out about our miscarriage.  The song is "Beauty Will Rise" and talks about how God restores us after suffering and loss.

Continuing on "all things new",  I am reminded of Revelations 21:5, where God declares, "I am making all things new!"  And again in Deuteronomy 30: "God, your God, will restore everything you lost; He'll have compassion on you."  And I think of Psalm 71:20: "Though You have made me see troubles, many and bitter, You will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth, You will again bring me up."

Jared and I hold onto these promises from God and believe what He say.  His Word is true--He does not lie.  

Angel, we know that one day, we will meet you in Heaven.  We will miss you until then, and we will love you forever.