So here's what happened (so far)

I scheduled my 10 week appointment for Wednesday, December 19th and really really hoped we could hear a heartbeat by then.  I would be 10 weeks and 5 days after all, and they say that 10 weeks is usually when you can start hearing it.  We were expecting to joyfully hear the heartbeat in the very room where last time we got sad news.  And it was going to be redemptive (an Ephraim experience if you will, Genesis 41:52).  Then we would be off to California to see our extended family and rejoice in a new pregnancy with family we don't get to see enough.

Instead, Gwen, Bert, and I waited as the midwife searched and searched for a heartbeat.  Our midwife said my uterus felt small for 10 weeks, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.  She scheduled me an ultrasound at a nearby office (they don't have one in the midwife office) for a couple hours later.  At the beginning of our appointment we learned that our previous 6 week ultrasound report mentioned a possible subchorionic hemorrhage.  But it wasn't a serious concern.  It was normal to see things on early ultrasounds that resolve naturally and never turn into concerns.  Our midwife said with the lack of detectable heartbeat and the possible subchorionic hemorrhage, it would be best to verify everything was ok by ultrasound.  We were thankful that we'd only be waiting a couple hours, and not overnight to find out.

We dropped off Gwen at Ivy's house, because it was our date night anyway, grabbed a bite at Noodles, and went to get our ultrasound.  Still hoping, praying, and trusting that we'd get good news and get to see our baby moving around.  They look like babies at 10 weeks.  With head, rump, and little limbs that visibly move.

During the ultrasound (ha! I used to think 'internal' ultrasounds were scary and uncomfortable. Now I could care less) she located the baby and he was cute.  Little head and rump, but no moving arms and legs that we could see.  Then she asked me to take couple deep breaths to look for blood flow in the baby.  There was definitely blood flow everywhere else, except for the little gray baby body.  Then she charted the heartbeat line across the bottom of the screen and there weren't any bumps on it.  Nothing.  I covered my face with my hands and started sobbing.  Total shock.  The tech finished about 30 seconds later, handed me a washcloth to cry in because she didn't have any kleenex, and then she said "I'm so sorry" and left the room after giving us instructions to wait in the lobby.

Bert wrapped his arms around me while I sobbed and gasped, "no! not again. i can't do this again." Over and over.  And then somehow I turned it off and got dressed, buckling my belt in front of the bulletin board full of ultrasound pictures of big, happy, alive babies.  It said "BABIES ON PARADE!" with a big silhouette of a pregnant belly on the paper background. I wish I could think of words to give justice for how much I HATE that bulletin board.  It seemed like the cruelest thing possible in that moment.  And way too familiar since I also hated it the last time I was in that room with a dead baby inside.  Seriously, I might write them a letter of complaint.

In some room, somewhere, the ultrasound results were viewed by a radiologist who wrote up a report and sent it to my midwife, who then called me on the private lobby phone at the ultrasound office.  Bert and I were sitting there numb with shock and grief when she called.  We were facing the question, "What do we do now?"  We had not even acknowledged that question or made tentative plans because we were sure we'd get good news.  The midwife affirmed my hesitations about still going to California, saying it may be very difficult and uncomfortable for me if my body starts miscarrying while we're there.  So we decided not to go which was very heartbreaking for such an important and highly anticipated trip.

The midwife mentioned that the baby had a crown-rump measurement meaning it was big enough to be measured and hadn't started "being absorbed" back into the lining as some younger embryos do.  It measured to be around 8 weeks old, so it had probably already been dead for over two weeks.  (I thought back to how even though I still felt very pregnant, it had been almost exactly two weeks since I last threw up.)  The midwife recommended that I see an OB to discuss my "options" and gave lots of comfort and kindness during our phone call as I dealt with the shock of having to do that again.  In the same room.  With the same voice on the same phone.  She said how she had been so excited for me about this pregnancy and emphasized how this was so difficult to go through again.  I need to thank God more for the HealthEast midwives.  They are such a grace to me.

Calls were made to parents and sisters and we got big, wonderful hugs and tears when we went to pick up Gwen at Ivy's.  How can anything be better than tears?  I'm not asking for words.  I'm not asking why.  I just need tears sometimes.  So when someone shares that with me I feel so very loved and grateful.

God blessed us with a really compassionate woman at Delta who didn't charge us any fees for needing to reschedule our plane tickets.  She kept apologizing and told Bert to "tell your wife to be strong" because she was a mother too and knows how hard it is. Bert cancelled our CA hotel.  And he emailed our small group to cancel our Christmas party we were supposed to host the next day.  (Bert is my HERO.)  Then we took a deep breath to digest that this was really happening and somehow ended up sitting in our hallway crying together.  It was precious and painful as we grieved the fact of two sons we won't raise here.  Or hold.  Or call their names out the back door to come in for dinner.  Or play with their sister.  Or swaddle in hospital blankets.

Now it's been five days since that night.  Christmas Eve.

My heart is heavy with many things... grief, numbness, comfort,sadness, joy, and thankfulness that Jesus was born.  There is still darkness here, but it's not for long.  He is King and will one day truly wipe away all these tears.  And if he hadn't been born there wouldn't be a happy ending to this story.  My sin is enough to condemn me, but my Savior gives me HIS perfect life in my ledger and God welcomes me into his family forever.  Where I will see my babies again.

Here's what I am struggling with now.  I am still pregnant.  I still feel pregnant.  I still get nauseous in the morning and throughout the day.  I still crave naps.  I still have other unmentionable pains and extras.  I still wake up in the morning feeling the baby's weight on my bladder.  And then I remember he is dead.  It's multiple times a day I simply think, "dead baby."  So now I am the pregnant girl with a dead baby inside of her.  My brain knows, but my body is clueless.  I feel insecure about how that must seem to other people (which is admittedly silly).  It's like I have a big emotional shift, but my physical experience (whatever that will be) is lagging behind awkwardly.  I both like it and dislike it.  It's comfortable to not be empty, but uncomfortable to know this pregnancy is not going anywhere.  I'm over 11 weeks now, and have little hope for my sticky uterus to have success on its own with its poor track record.  So mentally I have constant questions about what will happen and when and how long...

So will you pray for my mental and emotional patience and peace?  We are going to ride out the holidays and start talking about medical interventions in early January.  But sometimes I feel a little crazy in the waiting.  So I'm trying to take thoughts captive, am keeping a thankfulness list, and need to stay in the word. And that's what I need most right now, so I'm out.

Thank you for your prayer, care, and tears.  

I wish I could say THANK YOU big enough and loud enough. 

It means to much to not be alone on this path.  You are a part of God's grace to me in this.