Today, October 15th, is national Pregnancy and Infant Loss day. This kind of loss is usually represented by a white pumpkin, placed as decoration or prominently on display. It’s a way for others who have walked down this road to know they are not alone.
Back in July of this year, I found out I had gotten pregnant for the first time. The days we knew our child was with us were a whirlwind, but my husband and I cherished every moment. I miscarried four days after our discovery.
My womb is a grave, and my body a tomb.
To make things worse, my dear friend would find out two weeks later that she, too, miscarried nearly the same time I did, but she was at fourteen weeks. I will never forget when she told me that she felt her “womb is a grave, and my body a tomb”. There was a despair I had never known that we both shared in, yet we experienced something strange. Anyone who is a believer in Christ may know that in times of deep sorrow, there is truly a Peace that passes all understanding. There is a Hope that doesn’t come from within, because within there seems to be no hope. I felt like I looked insane to my non-believing friends. After all, I had suffered a huge loss alongside my friend, but we felt God’s Peace and Strength more than we ever had before. He felt so close to us that it was almost as if we could feel His arms wrapped around us.
I imagine that our children are playing together in Heaven, both never having to know the depth of sin that we live through here on Earth. One day we will meet them, and I am excited to know that they are in the arms of a Loving Father. For those of you who have also experienced loss, I am right there with you, sister. My husband is there with you, brother. You are not alone.
There is a Hope that doesn’t come from within, because within there seems to be no hope.
As I processed everything that had happened, I wrote this short entry. It’s very raw and personal, and may even be TMI for some, but I share it with you in the hopes that you would know you are not alone; but also, that God is a great and wonderful Counselor, and the Hope of the World. Be blessed today, my friends!
Two Lines
I thought we had made it.
The prayer that passed my lips nearly every day for the last four years had finally been answered.
As I stared at the faint second line, I blinked. I had begun to believe that there was no such thing as a second red line on a pregnancy test – the dozens and dozens of them I had taken previously couldn’t all have been faulty… right?
Yet there it was.
A second line.
The moments and hours that followed were a whirlwind. I couldn’t surprise my husband because I was in so much disbelief, I had to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. He looked at the result, looked at me, then returned his attention to the stick in his hands. My mind hummed with excitement hidden behind the suffocating numbness that had ensnared me. Was this real? Did I actually see what I thought I saw? When my best friend’s text came through I couldn’t breathe.
Congratulations, momma! You’re pregnant!
My husband, spotting the text, leapt out of his seat to pick me up and swing me around like a romantic movie scene. He set me down and placed his hands on my belly, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
“We did it! We finally did it! We’re going to be parents!”
I smiled, then, truly – the numbness washed away as a flood of excitement crashed over me. Our excitement lasted a few minutes before the questions began. What do we do now? How do we know for sure? Do we tell our family, our friends? The one that haunted me, however, seared itself into my mind;
Why is the second line so faint?
The blood test revealed what we had hoped for – we were definitely pregnant. Numbers, though, can be a finicky thing. A blessing and a curse, as was the case. You see, when measuring HcG – the pregnancy hormone – anything above a 5 is considered pregnant, though they prefer to see 25 on the first test. Mine was a 19.
This will turn out okay. I have you.
The words the Lord placed on both our hearts rang through my ears. Okay, Lord! You say it will be okay? Then I will trust you!
The midwife wanted me to come back a few days later to re-test. The numbers needed to be doubling. That’s all we needed? Please, Lord, please let them double! Yet the feeling didn’t seem to go away… so instead, I asked, “Lord… let Your Will be done, and not my own.”
Every day leading up to the second blood test, I took a test. Every day, the faint second line grew fainter and fainter. Even though my days were filled with the worst heartburn I’ve ever had in my life and the excitement of saying the words “I am pregnant” out loud to close friends I consider family, a haze settled over my mind. Every day felt like it was fake. Was I just dreaming? Excitement cut in through the depths occasionally, though the waves quickly settled back over my mind.
I skipped the at-home test the day before the blood test. I didn’t want to see the result.
On my way to work Friday morning, I felt off. I wasn’t having heartburn like I had had the few days prior. What I wouldn’t give to wake up at 3 in the morning with heartburn again. Almost as an afterthought, I lifted a desperate plea; Father, if I miscarry, please let me be at home.
The results came in around noon, and though I wasn’t able to speak with a midwife, the numbers weren’t looking good. Rather than double, the numbers fell from 19 to 11.
I stepped outside and called my husband, uttering the other words I had prayed I would never have to speak.
“Honey… I think I’m having a miscarriage.”
The drive home was spent worshipping the Father for His goodness to me and my husband. That sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Though, if you have ever been in a place of deep sorrow, you too may have felt the overwhelming need to worship. As the world came crashing down around me, I locked my eyes on the King, for He was the only thing not wavering in my vision.
I had barely been home for half an hour before the life we had conceived passed, and as we stared at the sweet child we held in our hands, awe overtook me. While some may have been disgusted, I was filled with this holy sense of witnessing a miracle. The design, the creativity of such a delicate work of art astounded me. With our child’s passing came the immediate crushing weight of deep emptiness, like none I had ever felt before. The numbness returned. Our friends, like a Godly comfort squad, went on high alert and threw themselves into action. Have you ever felt overwhelmed by support before? So many of our dearest friends offering support in tangible and intangible ways, to the point that we simply had to make a noise and they were there.
Even as we continue to mourn the loss of our first child, one thing is so certain to me that I know it may make me seem like a lunatic. The Lord blessed us, before, during, and after the whirlwind five days we knew our baby. I have questions I know may never be answered on this side of Heaven, but one I know for sure.
The result of those two lines will meet me there, in Paradise, and I will be able to lift them up into my arms, to see their smile, hear their voice, and rejoice in what the Lord has made.
A. L. Bowker
October 15th, 2024
Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay