Disclaimer: This isn’t a fun and happy post, so feel free to skip if you wish. It’s been a challenging week and writing is how I process things, so here’s the raw and honest version of where I’m at.
I took the test quietly one morning. When the three minutes were up, I looked at it. “Wait, are those two lines?!” I thought. I ran to the store and picked up some more. Positive. I was so excited.
I waited a couple of days, not telling anyone. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Maybe I had only imagined the second line. Finally, I took a few more tests, different brands. All positive. I put together a gift for my husband and gave it to him. When he realized what it meant, he was so excited.
We told just a few friends, being cautious about who knew because it was still super early. We asked for their prayers. They were so excited.
The excitement was mixed with anxiety as I wondered if things were too good to be true. The common theme in my life is having my dreams just within reach…and then having everything come crashing down. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop as it had too many times before.
I called my doctor, who said I didn’t need any additional bloodwork to confirm the pregnancy. I think a dozen positives were enough confirmation for her. I scheduled an appointment and counted the days until we would see the baby on the ultrasound.
I woke up each morning with nausea. That had become my new normal. I embraced it because I knew there was a reason for it. Mark made fun of me for my odd food choices and we started making plans for the future. We talked about baby names and nursery decorations and how we’d tell our family the exciting news. We were so excited.
Then one day, things just weren’t right. I called the nurse. She said not to worry. She told me I was probably fine. I went to work. Things only got worse. I already knew some of the signs from my endless google searches. I panicked and had my husband take me to the hospital.
On the way to the ER, I couldn’t stop crying. I sobbed as I said, “if God wants to give us this baby, great. And if not…He is still good.” It was so difficult to say those words. I just wanted everything to be okay. I wanted our perfect plan and crazy dreams to come true.
Hours passed. Tests and exams and blood work. Words from the doctors were slow and careful. “Miscarriage is something that happens a lot more than you’d think,” one said. “I’m very sorry,” whispered the other. Everything stopped. We tried to keep it together, but we were sad. No, we were mad.
We are sad and we are mad. And as much as I try to brush it off because I don’t feel like I should be allowed to grieve the loss of someone I only knew for a short time, I can’t quite let it go. Not yet. So I’m letting myself feel. I’m allowing the tears and the screams and the questions to God. Because loss is loss, no matter how early. We are now left to grieve over the hopes and plans and dreams that we had for this child. For our family.
It’s honestly hard to see the good in all of this right now. The pain and darkness are still so strong. The tears are still flowing. But I believe that one day we’ll see it. We’ll see how this brokenness led to beauty. God is still good, even when our circumstances are not.
Right now, it hurts. Every post from my pregnant friends and every baby photo on Facebook reminds me of the loss. I’m angry. I’m bitter. I’m sad. I’m mad. I’m jealous. I know that it’s important to work through these emotions. I know that soon enough, the strength of the sadness will fade away. So for now, my husband and I are holding each other close as we walk through this darkness, anxiously awaiting the better days that are ahead. Because I know they’re coming.
[I’m so thankful for my amazing husband and our incredible support system during this time. Miscarriage isn’t something you can really understand until you go through it, which makes it feel especially lonely. We are grateful for those who have admitted that they don’t understand our pain but are still willing to sit with us in our grief. ]