Wednesday, March 25, 2015

MIscarrying & Healing

So, being told that your baby died at 8weeks4days has passed away is hard news. But, having to prepare for the actual process was a different thing. That Monday after our appointment, we stopped to get some lunch, which seemed like something you do on a regular Monday. I kept my sunglasses on to hide my red, swollen puffy eyes, and to mask my flowing tears. I drove myself home and thanked the Lord for a beautiful day. I went home, got into some pajama pants and climbed into my bed. It seemed like that was what I was supposed to do. But, somehow it felt like the last thing I wanted to do. I didn't feel right in my own skin. I didn't want to sit, lay, stand, nothing. I wanted out of my body. But, instead, our small family of three put on our tennis shoes and we took a long walk through our neighborhood. It was the perfect medicine. I don't remember what we talked about but I remember feeling good. We went home and then visited Gretchen, our pastor's wife and we told her what happened. She sent us home with some yummy dinner, and we met my mom that evening at our house. She came to visit and be with me.

She and I sat on our front porch and just talked. It was a sad day, but it was calming. We left to go pick up my prescription, and a few things I needed to prepare. She left, we prepared for bed and I was able to rest.

Tuesday morning I planned to wake up and take the medicine. Inserting the medicine was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I didn't want to do it, but I knew it was the right thing for me to do.

But, I waited until all of my house chores were completed. I cleaned bathrooms, vacuumed, caught up on all the laundry, and made sure everything was just right. I took the medicine finally, showered and planned to go pick up glasses I ordered the week before. At 2:30, I started feeling the beginning of discomfort. The beginning of the pain was sad to me. This was it. Not long now, I will see the physical evidence of the death that happened within me. I was actually very scared of it. By the time I made it to the optometrist, and had to wait for the fitting, and feeling my abdomen tighten and relax every few minutes caused me to hurry along the office visit. "Just give me my glasses so I can go" and they hurried me through. Perhaps they knew I was in distress? The tech that helped me remembered me from the week before and I asked how I was feeling. For the first time, I had to answer the question. I told her the truth. She hugged me. She fitted me and I left. I got home and was really starting to get super uncomfortable. By 4:00 I was asking Dennis to come home early, which he couldn't. I was also expecting my mom to spend the night with me, so I was anxious for her to get there as well. No one could get to me until 5:30, and by that time, I was sitting on an exercise ball, with no pants, an electric heating pad rolled up on my lower abdomen, propped up next to my bed, getting through what I would consider labor. This is not a run of the mill period. My Dr. said it would be, and it came quickly to my attention that he evidently has not labored at all. Not a 9 month baby, not an 8 week one. I rocked back and forth, I laid my head on the bed, and I said "it hurts to bad." My mom rubbed my back, my hips, and I just made it through it. 
Around 8:00pm I wanted some cantaloupe and watermelon, so I went down to the kitchen to try to cut some up. While standing there, I felt what is described as the "big gush" and I expected a lot of blood. To my surprise, there wasn't much. I went to the bathroom, and I pushed and waited. When I stood, I saw my baby. A perfectly formed 8.5 week baby. Cord and all. It was beautiful, and unique. An answer to a prayer that I didn't pray. 

With that baby came out with it, what I believe to be her brother or sister. A much under developed incapsulated fetus. I won't ever get medical conformation of this, but I believe it to be true. When I saw them both together, I said: "Look, mom, there are two babies." 

I called Dennis to come in and see. And we (and by we, I mean my mother) spooned them out very carefully, and we sat and admired her. We adored her, and studied her. After tears and joy, Dennis buried her in a house plant that was given to us the week before by his parents. It completed things for me. I felt comforted and healed. (Of course not completely) We named her "Ella"

The pains let up a TREMENDOUS amount after I passed the babies and delivered the placenta the next morning. I wasn't expecting this type of experience at all, but I dealt with it the best I could. 

The next morning I woke up to my husband curled next to me, mourning our baby. It is something I won't ever forget. 

The next day, my mom stayed with us and helped me take care of Daniel, while I rested a good bit. I stayed in bed most of the day. I felt the absence of the life of my baby, and it made me incredibly sad. I never realized how much I loved this blessing and how aware I was of her presence until it was gone. It was a very sad moment for me, but I knew that even though I was void this precious little life, I was filled with the Holy Spirit, and for that there is no greater gift. For we do not mourn as those who do not have hope. And I truly felt the love and care of my Lord in this very very dark moment, and days. I know He will heal, and he will sustain me. 

The flowers pictures above were delivered to my home on Thursday by some special friends: Les & Suzanne. I was also delivered some DELICIOUS chocolate and calming tea by another dear photographer friend, Lindsey. I felt loved on by friends and calls, text messages, and small acts of love and kindness. 

I begin to heal and feel whole again, moving on with gratitude in my heart and joy for this suffering. 

The Lord Giveth and The Lord Taketh Away.. Blessed be the Name of the Lord. Job 1:21

While I was in the laboring phase, I found this YouTube song that I have taken so much comfort from, and EVERY word is true. I listen to it daily. It is a wonderful reminder. Please take a moment to listen to this. 

Thank you all for reading my story! I have a picture of our sweet Ella, and I would love to share it with you if you are a family or friend. Please feel free to ask to see her, I will show her to you gladly. :) 


Tammy Mckee said...

Tears. Oh God. Tears. I am so sorry for your loss but I must say I admire your strength. I lost a baby at 5 months many years ago and I think the miscarriage was more painful than actual delivery for more reasons than one. May God heal your whole family and comfort you as you grieve for sweet Ella.

Anonymous said...

Oh Shannon, thank you so much for sharing. ...but more than that, thank you for your steadfast faith in Him! My heart breaks for you and your sweet family. Donna Travis

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