Things have been pretty quiet around here. I am back in Athens from Crafty Feast, and now that I am home and things have settled a little I want to write about my miscarriage. It is important to me that I remember what happened and raise a monument of sorts to this brief little life.
On Friday of last week, Piper and I drove to Ikea to buy more fabric for the craft fair. That morning, and the morning before, I remember there were the clear symptoms of pregnancy. I just knew. All day on Friday, I felt excited and I remember that I started planning... when the baby would be born, how I would stop work for a time to welcome this new little life, which pregnancy clothes I still owned and could wear, what changes I wanted to make to the nursery. Trevor was so. excited. On Saturday we took a pregnancy test. We had a faint positive, but it was positive :)
We didn't tell anyone right away because we wanted to wait until we got a good strong positive. It was still early. Over the next couple of days, we took a few more tests, and they kept growing more faint until eventually nothing showed at all. I kept consoling myself that it was early yet; it may just not show back up until I missed my period. But something else was happening-- my symptoms were fading. By Wednesday I knew I wasn't pregnant anymore. I tried to see my OB to get a blood test and some advice, but she couldn't see me until the following Friday. I went to an urgent care, brought Piper with me, and was basically treated like I was wrong, and was never pregnant in the first place. They drew some blood for a test and when they called to tell me that it was negative, the nurse said that meant I was never pregnant which is NOT true. I was so frustrated because I felt like no one was listening to me.
Finally, on Thursday, I started cramping really badly and bleeding. I went to the ER. I had a good doctor who not only listened to me but was sympathetic and kind. I was there for a couple of hours and then I went home.
My friend Elisha had a miscarriage at 18 weeks. It was a partial molar pregnancy. She wrote this poem. It's called Silent Child.
I thought you would come to me as a child
A crying child
With pink flesh wiggling and mouth sucking
I thought you might have red hair or blond
Brown eyes or blue. I imagined
The children watching and playing and helping.
I thought about getting to know you --
What name would we give you?
Who would you be? What would you love?
But, you answered me with silence.
Your heartbeat lost.
You didn’t come to this world.
The disastrous oil spill
The worldwide wars
The horrifying earthquakes
The wavering economy
The desire for fortune and fame
The molestation of forests, land and oceans
You came to me instead as:
A bouquet of roses and another of hydrangea,
Water rippling on the lake in the breeze
Followed by a steady cool rain.
Meals and love from neighbors, friends and family
Accompanied with trinkets for the children.
As deep understanding from sisters,
Known grief shared with my brother,
Reassurance and strength from my husband,
Delicate hands of the nurses and
Wise decisions and advice of doctors, and
As a strange silence in the house.
You had already filled our lives.
In conversation, dreaming and planning.
One day I will meet you and know you a little
Because of who you helped me to become
And of the reminder you provided –
The beauty of humanity and the hope of Glory.
-- by Elisha Boggs
This poem captures the whole sense of loss that is a miscarriage. Her pregnancy was so much farther along than mine. I am thankful that this didn't happen later, that I am still healthy and able to have more children, that I have a beautiful daughter who is alive and safe, that my friends and family have been so supportive. It is just a difficult experience all around... hard to know why it happened, if I did something wrong. Everything I've read indicates there was nothing I could have done. The unknown is a difficult thing to grapple with; it is difficult to hand over. I kind of want to hang on to it and try to make some sense out of it. But the thing is, I can't. If I ever felt small and powerless, this is that time. I am not big enough to carry this sorrow, and I am not big enough to know what happened or have the power to heal my own wounds. God is big enough. He is bigger than all of this. He is good despite the hurt and sorrow in my life and he is a refuge from the brokenness of this life.
In Genesis 8-9, after the flood, Moses records one of God's promises: "'I will never again curse the ground because of man, for the intention of man's heart is evil from his youth. Neither will I ever again strike down every living creature as I have done. While the earth remains, seed time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.'" God then blesses Noah and tells him to be fruitful and multiply. What's crazy is that Isaiah takes that pattern and expounds on it. After the suffering servant passage that foretells Jesus' sacrifice ("... yet he bore the sins of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors" 52:13-53:12), Isaiah writes, "'Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate on will be more than the children of her who is married,' says the LORD. 'Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitation be stretched out; do not hold back, lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes.'" Isaiah is comparing the sacrifice of Jesus to the flood, but he's saying that this time, instead of God pouring out anger on his creation for their sin, he took it on himself and makes many to be counted righteous. He's saying that now, everything wrong was made right, the brokenness of creation was reversed, and even the woman who has not known pregnancy will need to expand her tents to make room for babies. This is clearly a metaphor, but the bearing that this has on my life is so full... like the barren woman, there are evidences that things are wrong, they are not as they should be, and this loss is one of them. It hurts and is painful. But God answers that loss with something so profound, something that transcends this loss and heals the greatest hurt of my hurt and every heart.
"'This is like the days of Noah to me: as I swore that the waters of Noah should no more go over the earth, so I have sworn that I will not be angry with you, and I will not rebuke you. For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love will not depart from you, and my covenant of peace will not be removed,' says the LORD, who has compassion on you." Isaiah 54:9-10
I am mourning the loss of this little life, but beyond comforted that I have peace because of that suffering Servant. And I am looking forward to being fruitful and multiplying in the future :)
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