Peaks and Valleys

Well, there's something I've been trying to decide whether to share here, but I think I will, in the hopes that someone else will be comforted or encouraged. And I'd love your prayers.

On New Year's Eve, I found out some momentous news--I was pregnant.

I've never felt so ambivalent about a pregnancy before. If we weren't in the midst of selling our house and moving this spring (we hope, we hope, we hope!), I'd have been in delighted shock. As it was, I was just in shock.

Oh, Lord, how can I possibly handle one more thing? My husband is working two jobs, consuming all his energy and then some. Homeschooling with two in high school has increased my load and my stress so much. Now, looking at more painting and cleaning and de-cluttering and then keeping a house perfect for months on end... And this "one more thing" being something that will sap all my energy and strength... What are you doing, Lord? We know others--friends and family members--who are praying, begging, for another child, and we weren't even open to this gift. Yet here it is.

And slowly, the gift-ness of it began to sink in. Our kids paved the way, with their excitement and anticipation. We talked about how much more help I would need from them, and they were ready to step up and take on the responsibility. My 15-year-old daughter, who I thought might be the one most likely to be embarrassed or upset by the added demands on her, blessed me so much by being absolutely thrilled at the news.

We only shared the news with a few friends. It was a little embarrassing--we had talked like we were done. It would be painful for some to hear; they wanted children, or more children, so badly. Family would be worried and concerned. I was aware that, at my age, my chances of miscarrying were higher than they'd ever been. So we thought it best to wait to spread the news.

I started having nausea and fatigue--a good sign, though it added to my overall stress and feelings of being overwhelmed. I was keeping up with homeschooling, but having trouble fitting in anything extra, including getting our house ready to put back on the market. (You may have noticed I haven't posted as much this month.)

Though the morning sickness was reassuring, I began to sense that something wasn't quite right. I wasn't waking up at night having to go to the bathroom. And my jeans still fit. I'm always disappointed by how quickly my normal jeans just aren't comfortable anymore, due to bloating and other digestive discomforts. But this time, my normal jeans remained comfortable. Week after week. Too long, I thought.

When I started having a tiny bit of spotting--less than I've had in other pregnancies--I used that as an excuse to call my doctor and say that something wasn't quite right. And because he's the kind of doctor who listens to moms who've been through this a few times, he had me come straight in for bloodwork and an ultrasound. I was 8 weeks along.

But the baby only measured 6.5 weeks. And it had no heartbeat. And there was this other shadow: Twins?

Five days later, we repeated the ultrasound. With a clearer picture this time: No, not twins. Measuring more like 6 weeks. And...no heartbeat.

In between the two ultrasounds, I had asked friends about having a D & C or not. One close friend, who is also a nurse, surprised me with her answer. She thinks there is an emotional price to be paid for a D & C. Like an abortion, a D & C would "take care of it" medically. With a D & C, as in an abortion, my baby's tiny body would be sucked and sliced and cut up, and I would never see it.

In the natural way of things, she said (with the emotion of experience), a woman can see and even hold the tiny body where a soul, for a short time, resided within her. She can know this child, a little bit, this side of heaven and grieve its passing in a way that is difficult to do without a body, however small. (Granted, she said, that if weeks and weeks go by, a D & C may be necessary--but by then the body starts decomposing.)

My friend also said that her neighbor had been told the same thing as me: her baby was dead, and she needed the D & C. But she kept refusing...and that baby is 10 years old now!

Now, I have no hope that this baby is alive. I'm feeling less pregnant each day, and have had enough cramping over the past few days to believe I'm going to miscarry. As I said, I've been sensing something was wrong for the past few weeks.

So I am a train wreck of conflicting emotions. Very sad--but not depressed. A little bit relieved--and feeling guilty for feeling relieved. Glad that it wasn't twins. (Two seemed so much harder to lose than one.) Praying for the miscarriage to happen soon--but afraid of miscarrying. Worry that I'll lose it next week at a dress rehearsal or performance of Godspell! (What will my makeup co-chair do without me? There's just the two of us this time. What if I start hemorrhaging?.... --Someone will drive me to the hospital, and my co-chair will draft some more help. It'll be fine. God will work it all out.) Dealing with my kids' disappointment as well as my own. Surprise at the depth of my husband's grief. Feeling guilty for my own ambivalence early on.

"Oh, Jeanne," one friend said compassionately, "just what you needed--more waiting and uncertainty in your life these days!"

And a letter from my aunt, telling me that my departed grandmother used to say, "Well, Romans 8:28 is still in the Book."

And it is:

Romans 8:28 "For we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose."

I think I shall be quoting Grandmother often.