For three days. Only one night did the tears fall. I’m just too…. I don’t know… to cry now. It seems silly to cry. It seems better to sleep. Makinzy hasn’t handled this well, and it’s made me want to hide under the sheets even more. She seems mad and sad (at me) and particular resentful that I am not up to doing the normal things. So it’s been just easier to rest. But today is the last day I’m home to do just that, so I’ve lugged myself out of bed and demanding that I join the land of the living. Last time, I tried cupcakes, and it was worthless. I am sure they won’t help me grieve. They won’t cheer me up. But it’s practice for moving forward. Having been in this dark place before, I know how easy it is to get lost in the dark, and to let darkness become the new normal. so if anything, I am working hard to keep moving. To keep living in light. To cling to hope and faith when I don’t want to. So. Cupcakes.
Sunday, January 06, 2013
I totally ripped that title from an episode of Parenthood.
But… it suits the situation.
This will be a very difficult week.
You see, we’ve had a secret.
Back in early December, we found out we were pregnant again. And thrilled. And not a bit of infertility treatment was involved. No pills. No injectables. Nothing. Totally on our own. We were ecstatic. But once you’ve miscarried once, pregnancy also brings a sense of fear… worry that you may go down that road again.
So, we waited.
The first ultrasound, in the words of the tech, was beautiful. Perfect. The OB felt sure we were looking at a viable pregnancy this time. I felt confident. My coworkers were very excited to cover my classes as I ran back and forth to the bathroom, either from a full bladder or sneak attack of nausea, and our parents were over the moon and busting to tell everyone. All seemed well.
The next ultrasound gave us the shock we didn’t see coming. No pictures. No heartbeat. No comment from the tech, other than “the doctor will talk with you in a few minutes.” It wasn’t good, and we knew it. Later on, blood work, a follow up ultrasound, as well as a pelvic exam of my uterus all confirmed his worries- another miscarriage.
In the days since, we’ve shared this with our immediate family, Sunday school class, and immediate coworkers- those we interact with on a daily basis. And, we’ve told Makinzy, who said it best when she sadly muttered, “I just don’t understand why.” She was so disappointed as she has so desperately desired a little brother or sister.
We don’t understand, but we trust. We cling to faith. We know He has plans bigger and more wonderful than we can fathom, and while this…SUCKS… He feels our hurt, gives us peace and hope, and knows the beginning and the end.
Thanks for praying for us.