Real Life on TV

The other day my mom told me about an episode of "Brothers & Sisters," a show I have never seen. In the episode, one of the characters has a miscarriage, and then a D & C (I had a D & E). I decided to watch it...

The beginning of the show started with the excitement of having just discovered the pregnancy. Because I knew what was going to happen, I kept waiting for the sad event to happen. She went to the OBGYN and had an ultrasound. I felt like in a way I was reliving my own experience, except she had no idea what was about to happen, and I did. The doctor looked at the screen, expecting everything to be fine, and then adjusted the screen, staring at it more closely for a few moments. At this point, the woman sensed something was wrong.

I remember watching the face of my ultrasound technician, laying there at 1:30 in the morning. She looked for an extra amount of time on the screen, while Michael and I both held each others' hands and our breath in anticipation. Deep down we knew the news was bad, especially as we studied her face and saw in her eyes a hopelessness as she spent extra time searching the screen for some sign of life.

The doctor on the show then told the woman, "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but I can't find a heartbeat." Those were the same words we heard that night, and the memory of it hit me all over again.

Later in the episode the woman admits she can't bring herself to drink a cup of coffee. That would somehow validate the truth that she no longer needs to be aware of what she eats or drinks-I remember going through that same thought process. At the end of the show, after her surgery, the woman said to her mom, "I think I just need to be sad for a while." Only someone who has experienced that kind of loss can understand the true depth of those words.

What I've learned through this whole process is that there are times when I just need to embrace the sadness that washes over me. Sometimes the sadness hits as a direct response to something, like seeing a pregnant woman or a brand new infant or getting an email from a pregnant friend. But sometimes it's a bit more subtle, when it's just a "normal" day, yet somewhere deep down I feel a little empty, like a piece of me is missing.

I've noticed that the sad moments have decreased in frequency, though they still happen. And I think as time moves on, they will continue to decrease in amount though not always in intensity. Part of me knows that these sad moments will never completely disappear, and truthfully, I don't want them to.

Coping

My emotions have been up and down lately. Last weekend at church during a baby dedication I found myself completely fine as the pastor shared a few words, and the moment he stared praying I began weeping uncontrollably. I may be entering a depression stage of grief, because I find myself sad beyond words. I zone out and stare off into space, and my heart feels heavy. Michael senses my sadness, and wants me to be open to talking about it with him, but truthfully, I have no words. The only thing I find myself being able to verbalize, is "I'm feeling sad today," which is usually followed by a bout of tears.

It's been good to process with our friends that I posted about the other day, who recently had a miscarriage. Knowing that someone else is going through some of the same emotions at almost the same time is helpful, somehow, because it simply validates everything I'm feeling. And, she understands the struggle to deal with everyday life (as everyone else moves on) in the midst of grief.

It's been five weeks. In some ways it feels like it just happened, and in other ways it feels like an eternity ago. Michael and I have continued to dialogue about our future, as we keep thinking about post-graduate school. The internship he is required to have next fall could be just that-a three month "internship" where we would leave after it's done-or, it could be a full-time job that is more long-term. And I find myself trying to figure out how a baby will fit into the picture-or rather, when.

I still see babies and young children at work and hear myself automatically thinking, "I want a baby of my own." And I also want to say to these mothers, "I hope you are cherishing every second with your little child, because you are so lucky to have a healthy baby." Sometimes I think more deeply, "Well, maybe they have had a hard time too. I don't know their story."

And then I find myself looking around, wondering how many others are grieving some kind of loss, but are forced to carry on with life, pasting on a smile and going through the motions of every day life.

Please Pray

We found out today that our friends who were due a week before we were had a miscarriage today. Because they were further a long they are going into the hospital tonight to induce labor. Please pray for them.

Processing

It's been three weeks since the miscarriage. I've been keeping myself very busy, and have been surprised how emotionally drained I feel when I finally stop and breathe. The devotional book I'm reading has talked about how this can be a coping mechanism, I just didn't think I was busy for the sake of being busy. I'm noticing though, that it seems to help keep my mind not focused on the grief.

Today I met with my doctor who performed the surgery at the hospital. I'm back to "normal," and everything is fine (at least physically).

Lately what's been hard is realizing how far along "I would be." One set of close friends is about a month further along then I would have been, and another couple is about a week further along. As I get updates, and realize they are beginning to "show" or even feel the baby kick, I am reminded of what I am missing out on. And I also realize that I will be making these comparisons in my head throughout the rest of their pregnancies, if not even longer than that.

I also just found out that my brother and his wife are expecting in June. I am very excited for them, especially because of the grace God has shown in completely restoring a broken relationship between us, not to mention seeing them go through the process of dedicating their lives to the Lord. It's been a direct, tangible answer to a lot of prayer. This is their second child, and I am so excited to get to be a part of their lives for this pregnancy. I know they were somewhat hesitant to share their news with us, because of our recent loss, but I am so excited for them. I did find myself calculating that this would have meant our child would have had two cousins within six months.

It's hard knowing that my grief process is so different from those around me. Months from now when I may be still feeling the loss acutely, others may barely remember. But that's ok. Whenever anyone asks how I'm doing, I almost always reply, "Just taking it one day at a time." Because that's all I can do.

Grief

Michael bought me a devotional book, "Grieving the Child I Never Knew." I have only worked through the first few days of it, but it has already been a good resource for me. It asks me tough questions, and it prompts me to journal, which is my way of processing just about everything.

Yesterday's section told the story from 1 Kings 3:16 where two women have come to King Solomon. One woman claims the other's baby has died, and has switched their babies in the night. Solomon, in his wisdom, asks for a sword. He then proclaims that they will simply cut the baby in half, to share. The real mother immediately cries, "no, let her have the baby. Just don't kill him!" The other mother says, "yes, if I can't have him neither of us can." And Solomon knew the first woman was the real mother.

The point of the devotional was to empathize with (but not condone) the woman who stole the baby. She wakes up in the middle of the night to find her baby is not breathing. She panics, and aches to hold a real, living baby again. Maybe she just wanted to hold the other baby for a minute, or maybe she was disillusioned somehow. Who knows? But the point is that she ached so badly for the loss of her child that she wanted to hold a real, alive baby. I believe this was her defense mechanism. She just didn't know what to do with her sudden, deep grief.

As I read this story I remembered that a few nights ago at work I served a couple who had their 10 1/2 month twin girls with them. They were beyond adorable-happy, sweet, and smiled at me every time I came to the table. I began talking with the couple, asking them about their experience with twins. I have always had an acute interest in twins since I had a twin who died before birth. Eventually, somehow, as they encouraged me to try to start having kids sooner than later (they were probably at least ten years older than me and felt that their age made the pregnancy more difficult), I ended up sharing with them about my recent miscarriage. And I found myself aching to hold their little precious ones.

As I read this account in 1 Kings, I related to the woman's desire to be comforted in her grief by holding a baby. And I look forward to the next baby I will get to hold and hug and be reminded of God's grace.

Give Thanks in Everything...

One of my biggest struggles over the last two weeks has been patience. I've already written about this some, but as I read through my journal entries over the last week, I realize it's a constant theme.

Some days I feel like the girl on Willy Wonka, who gets everything she wants when she wants it. I have wrestled with God over this, at times feeling like the girl, thinking "But I want it NOW!" I felt like I was ready for a baby, and my need for immediate gratification causes me to feel impatient that MY timing wasn't the right timing.

I do think in other ways, however, I am realizing all the areas I need to grow, and am learning to be thankful for this unexpected opportunity for growth. I also feel like Michael and I have grown so much closer already through this shared experience, and I will be forever grateful for the way he's handled this, and the way we are grieving and coping together. The Lord has been so good to me to give me the gift of my husband.