What Happened In August

That’s what we say. It’s easier, less jolting than “miscarriage.”

Married two months. Just starting a new job. Pregnant was not where I expected to be. And…there I was. For the first few days I tried to push the thought out of my mind. As if that would change things.

Then the worry set in.

We’re not ready. It’s only been two months. What will people think? We can’t afford this. I just started this job. How can this be real? What are we going to do?

I’m not ready.

Then reality set in. I would have to go to the doctor and get what I already knew to be true confirmed. Plans would have to be changed. I wouldn’t be able to work at my new job for the entire year. We would have to come up with an entirely new idea of what our life was going to be, because it wasn’t just him and me anymore. (And while I was able to work all that out in my mind, I should point out that I was still really deep in denial about what was happening.)

And then my fearful reservation split wide open.

I was sitting at my desk in my office when the first pain hit. Sudden and sharp…unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I caught my breath and tried to rationalize. Bladder infection, bad food…something. I didn’t feel anything for the rest of the day. The next morning the pain started again, sharp and stabbing, and continued through the afternoon. I called my mom and without divulging too much (because I’m ridiculous and don’t ever want people to worry about me) told her about the pain I was experiencing. Then it went away again and was gone for another day.

After work the next day I was in the kitchen getting something to drink. Another pain hit me, so hard I could barely breathe, and I fell to the floor. Kevin came in from the other room to ask me if I was okay. I told him I was and kept trying to brush it off as a UTI. But I finally said that if I was still experiencing pain the next day, I would make an appointment to see my doctor. And I told him I was late.

Neither one of us really wanted to consider the possibility.

It was either the next day or the day after, but I didn’t have to make an appointment to find out what was wrong. I can’t remember where it happened. Work? Home? I think I was home. So much I have pushed far, far away. I cannot tell you the date it happened but I can tell you the book I was reading (The Time Traveler’s Wife – not suggested reading material for a woman going through a miscarriage) and the music I was listening to (and the fact that I listened to no music for months after). I seem to remember lying on our bathroom floor at one point. I will spare all the details. It was every bit as horrifying as anything you will hear or read regarding the subject.

And like that…gone.

Quietly, I imploded. I fought panic attacks at work. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone outside of work or home. Phone calls went unanswered. I could write nothing. By hand or typing.

It was months later before I told my husband. Before I told anyone else. Even then, very few people knew. I did not, and I still don’t, want people to think I wanted to be pitied or desired the kind of attention news like that brings. That and I needed time to deal with it on my own. What I can see looking back is that I waited too long to talk about it. This is not something to experience alone.

When I was finally able to confront what had happened, I felt guilty and full of regret. Guilty because I didn’t want a baby right then. We had a plan and I felt like any deviation from it was my fault. Like I was ruining our future. And I regretted the fact that I never got to feel happy or excited about being pregnant. Even now, that is what stings. That I have never known the thrill of announcing that we were expecting.

But we were.

And because of that, the fact that the short time I was pregnant was not joyous for me, I feel like my miscarriage doesn’t count in some people’s eyes. Like I can’t talk about it. Like it’s not the same caliber. Like it certainly must not compare because I didn’t want the baby anyway. Or like I somehow deserved it.

It wasn’t that I did not want the baby. The guilt I felt rests solely in the fact that we had a plan and a baby 2 months into married life didn’t not fit in. All my heart has ever really wanted is to be a wife and mother. And the first opportunity at the latter left me frightened and broken. Because we still have a (loose) plan, trying for a baby soon after was not an option. Experiencing one miscarriage leaves me wondering if there will be more.

This experience has taught me so much. What not to say to women who have miscarried and couples that have lost children. Words you may think are comforting or rational are so, so wrong to say sometimes. But I try not to blame people when they say something they don’t realize is insensitive. I’m not sure you can have a real idea unless you have been there.

It has taught me real pain and longing. My life has been a fairly easy one. This has been the biggest tragedy in my short time so far.

In some ways I am thankful that it happened the way that it did. I believe that God would have sustained me and my husband whatever happened, but given the state I was in after a very early miscarriage, I can’t imagine where I would have been if we’d heard a heartbeat, seen wiggling feet, or experienced a stillbirth. In no way do I mean to belittle my early miscarriage — it was just as real, just as alive. I don’t know how I would have fared given time to become excited and hopeful.

Through all this, I’ve learned about God’s provision and timing. There are no mistakes and there is a reason for everything. I may not understand what glory can come from this on this side of heaven. Maybe just to say to someone else, “I understand.”

It was time to share this. Please don’t feel obligated to say something. I know that posts of this nature can make people feel that they must say something. That’s not what this is about. It has been a year and the wound is no longer as fresh as it once was. I can say with conviction that I am doing so much better than I was last August to last January. Now I can see that when I was in it, I had no idea how bad off I really was.

But this is real. Our baby was real. And if we believe what we claim to…then we are already parents. Though we never held our child on this earth, we will meet her someday. (In my heart, it’s only ever occurred to me to refer to her with feminine pronouns.)

I won’t say that I will never question the Lord’s timing again. I’m human. What I can say is that I will do my very best to accept every blessing He chooses to bestow upon my family and continue to praise though longings go unfulfilled. He is faithful and good.

Daily bread, give us daily bread
Bless our bodies, keep our children fed
Fill our cups, then fill them up again tonight
Wrap us up and warm us through
Tucked away beneath our sturdy roofs
Let us slumber safe from danger’s view this time
Or maybe not, not today
Maybe You’ll provide in other ways
And if that’s the case . . .
We’ll give thanks to You
With gratitude
A lesson learned to hunger after You
That a starry sky offers a better view if no roof is overhead
And if we never taste that bread

- Nichole Nordeman, “Gratitude”

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1. On my heart tonight
2. 23 Things That Happened in My 23rd Year
3. Like a jam jar.