In truth, I'm a very private person. Which makes the fact that I enjoy writing a blog an interesting thing. Although not too many people read it, and even fewer people comment on it, so that gives me a certain level of anonymity. But I think there are times for privacy and times for commentary and times to just get something down so that it can help you heal. And I think, for me, today is one of those days. I don't know if writing this will help me heal, but that's what I'm hoping.
You see, over 2 years ago, Josh and I decided that we would start trying for baby number 2. We didn't think that it would take that long to accomplish or be too difficult, after all, it wasn't that hard the first time around. Of course, that first time around was a completely different thing. We were younger, healthier, more energetic. This time we were older, I was scarred (unbeknownst to me), and definitely more tired. I don't know if Josh was more tired, but I was more tired. So, our quick turn around turned into month after month of waiting and watching and hoping and praying.
Every morning before work I would get up early, go out and walk the dog and use it as my prayer time. I would thank God for the wonderful life that He has given me, be thankful for my blessings because there are many and ask him for what I wanted the most in the world. Another child. I would try and be accepting that if it didn't happen it wasn't supposed to happen. I have a beautiful, healthy, loving, and so smart little girl. I was trying to remember that just because I wanted another baby that I was blessed with having a child and that's something that not everyone gets. No matter how long it was taking, I had that consolation. I was already a mother.
This past summer I had two surgical procedures. It seems that there may or may not have been scar tissue formed following the complications I had with Lexy's delivery. Nothing that was done was to help me get pregnant or make me pregnant, it was more to make sure everything was working the way it was supposed to. As I said, I've gotten older and with all those complications there was a theory that things just might not be working in the right way.
In September I had my prayers answered. I had a positive (or three positive) pregnancy tests. It was 3 days before my birthday. My early birthday gift. I know. You're doing the math. I'm 25 weeks pregnant now and I was pregnant in September. The math doesn't work. The math doesn't work because the morning of my 35th birthday I got up a tad early, settled in for a cup of coffee and had my life turn upside down. I lost my child before I even had a chance to get to know her. Josh sat with me and held my hand while I cried my heart out in the downstairs bathroom. When my mother called to wish me a happy birthday and wanted to know why I sounded so down, I told her I was having a miscarriage. She replied "I didn't even know you were pregnant". It was so soon. And so fast.
But it was my person. My gift from God, my baby, my little life to grow and care for and nourish. And somewhere in those first few days something went wrong and I lost her. I don't know why people use that word. Lost. I know what happened. She's not lost. She went back home to heaven to be where she belongs. After all, I know that she was just being loaned to me. But there is that sense of loss. That you don't know where to go or what to do or where to get support. I told 3 or 4 of my closest friends. Some understood, some called to check on me and some just checked out. I don't blame anyone for not knowing what to say or do. It wasn't as if I had a child I was able to hold in my hands drift away from me. I didn't get to see her eye color or know if she was going to be left or right handed. In some ways I know that it's difficult for people to understand the feelings around a miscarriage because for a lot of people those little bits of cells and DNA are just that. Those people are not mothers. They have never had a person grow inside them. Never felt a baby stretch and kick. Never had the joy of knowing that you have helped bring a new soul into the world and that God has put this soul into your hands and your hearts and has given you a level of trust that so many of us fight to return.
It took me 2 weeks to recover physically from losing my little one. I'm still recovering in my heart. Some days I feel good and I know that I wouldn't have this little one that I'm working with right now if I hadn't gone through what I did. But there are many more days that I wonder what she would have looked like. Would she have loved to read the way her big sister does, or would she have been her daddy's tennis star. I wonder what happened to cause it? Was there something I could have done differently, could I have prepared my body in a better way. I know that they're not logical but it's what I think.
And for this reason I will never as another couple when they are planning on having children. Or if there are going to be any other children. You never know if they want a bigger family. If they're trying to have the first one. If they've already had and lost someone that is precious to them in ways that it's hard for someone who has never gone through it to understand. And if you ask them or question them about it, it causes more of a wound.
I learned so much from my little person. I just wish that I could know what color her eyes were going to be. And I wish that I could let her know how much she was wanted and loved and that she will always be my second child.