In the Fire

You may be wondering why I haven't written in a while.  I never updated you after our first IUI, because I wanted my next post to be an ultrasound picture of the most adorable baby profile I could imagine.  I wanted to surprise everyone with our little miracle and delight in the onslaught of happy comments and congratulations.

I apologize for leaving you in the dark.  Many of you have asked us how everything is going, and I really appreciate that.  It wasn't fair of me to come on here and write about our journey and then suddenly stop at a cliffhanger.  I don't even know what kept me from sharing the good news immediately.  Did I really think that I wouldn't write if something bad happened?  No, I knew I would, that I would have to.  After all, the main purpose for this blog (and I believe there is a purpose for this) is to rejoice in weakness.  (2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.")  It is our natural reaction to hide when we're feeling weak and suffering from guilt, or pain, or fear.  If I can bring glory to my Maker by speaking loudly about these things, or if I can help another person who may be in the same boat, then I feel like I am doing the right thing.

So here goes.

Our first IUI was a success.  We were finally pregnant.  We lived in the clouds for almost eight weeks before we lost the baby.  I started spotting on Friday September 11 and we spent the night in the ER.  It was such a weird and surreal experience.  We kept getting really good news followed by terrible news, like, "I see a heart beat!" followed by "There never was a heartbeat."  When the HCG bloods came back at 2000, down from 3550 three weeks before, we knew it was over.  The doctor was very nice and said he was sorry, and then he sent us home without telling us anything about what was about to happen.

That weekend was hell on earth.

I had no idea what to expect, I just knew that I was more terrified than anything else.  I didn't have time to be sad or emotional, I was just really scared.  I frantically googled everything that I could, but there isn't that much info out there about the process of miscarrying a child.  There is a TON of stuff about how to cope afterward, but nothing really about how to cope DURING.  Luckily for me (?) my body was really good at it.  I wasn't in very much pain at all; no worse than a bad period.  The very worst part by far was having to see what would have been our baby.   That alone was the worst experience of my entire life.

I can understand now why an event like this can be hard on a couple.  During the process, Phil was there for me in ways that I didn't even know I needed him to be.  He did every single thing he possibly could to make me more comfortable and less afraid.  He helped me around the house and never left me alone.  I was so grateful for every tiny thing.  If he hadn't been so vigilant, so wonderful, I would have suffered immeasurably more than I did.  At a time when I was almost incapacitated with fear, having him there with me holding onto me was the only thing that made me feel like I was going to survive.

But I didn't remember any of that a week later when the emotions finally hit, and I was screaming at him like a crazy person because he made an "insensitive noise," and "I knew what you were going to say!"

A lot of people don't know what to say to someone when they are going through a miscarriage.  Even though it's happened to me, I still wouldn't know what to say if it happened to one of my friends.  The reason is because everything that you think will sound comforting comes out sounding terrible, and the things you think your friend is feeling might not be what she's feeling at all.  For example, in true Kara fashion and unbeknownst to almost everyone except my poor husband and mother, the two things I felt most were frustration and pure, seething anger.  My favorite post-miscarriage advice was "don't get bitter"--because it was easier to feel angry when someone said something like that than when someone said "Don't worry, God isn't saying 'no', He's just saying 'not now.'"!!  I mean, I was equally pissed at both of those things, but it felt better to be angry after the first comment, because it wasn't something someone said to try to comfort me.

To be perfectly honest, I was livid when people would tell me that everything was going to fine and that I would be a mother someday.  First of all, I don't want to be a mother someday.  I want to be a mother now.  I want to be carrying my child and caring for him, and not burying him in a shallow grave in the backyard.  Secondly, who are you to tell me what will happen in my future?  I am definitely NOT a believer in the prosperity gospel--that all good things will happen to you if you just have faith.  That's total bullshit.  If you've ever read any part of the Bible in your life you would know that all of the best people in there endured TERRIBLE, EXCRUCIATING HARDSHIPS THROUGHOUT THEIR ENTIRE LIVES.  And a lot of them died in the worst possible ways (re: crucifixion).  So don't tell me you know that there are roses and butterflies just around the corner for me.  Because I'd believe you more and be less angry if you told me that I should expect to die from stomach cancer (second on my lifelong list of worst medical nightmares, after having a miscarriage, which I can now check off).

But I'm really not angry at anyone who says any of these things.  If you've said anything to me, I promise, I'm not mad at you.  I'm mad at God.  A little less so now than I was a few days ago, but I still am.  He's the only one who had control over the situation, and He let this happen to me.  Afterward, when the pain was really raw, there were a few things that happened that were way too perfect to be coincidences that made everything hurt SO much worse.  It really, really felt like God was picking on me.  Like this person who you thought was your best friend is suddenly pushing you down on the playground and making fun of you.  That's exactly how I felt.  And it made me question, for the first time in my life, the character of the God I worship.

My rational mind is now starting to overshadow the emotions.  I am remembering the things I know about God's character, about how He is someone who loves His children.  I am remembering all of those good people in the Bible who suffered immeasurably worse than I have, and I am recalling the verses that explain why this happens, like James 1:2-5, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters in Christ, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom [i.e, if you can't understand why these terrible things are happening to you], you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you."

And, one of my favorites, 1 Peter 1:7 "These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold--though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world."

And this one, from 2 Corinthians, that makes me feel guilty for being mad at all because I know this was one of the main reasons I was led to start writing this blog: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ."

So, as I am gradually being comforted and as time moves forward, I am discovering that I have finally come to the point where I can let go of everything I have been holding onto and trust God completely with the future of our family.  Basically, I've lost all hope, and I am conceding that if we ever have any children it will be because God wants to do a miracle.  We have decided to stop doing fertility treatments.  We have been accepted into an adoption program, but we are not going to move forward with that either.  We are going to do the very thing that I never wanted to do--we are going to sit, for six months, and wait on the Lord. 

Phil and I would consider it a great blessing if you would pray for us while we wait.  Please pray for patience and that we may have the ability to hear His voice during this difficult time.  If I have offended anyone with this post, I am sorry.  I know that everyone means well and that this is just a hard situation to navigate.  If you feel like you need to say something to me, or ask me a question, please feel free.  For some reason I was meant to go through this, and if you can help me feel like it was not for nothing, that would be amazing.  If you want to say something but you don't know what (because you're terrified by my wrath, lol) send me a text, or leave me a comment, with just a heart.  Sometimes something like that can be more meaningful than anything else, and I know I'll appreciate knowing that we are in your thoughts and prayers.

Finally, I hope that I can be an example to you.  Of all the verses I've read in the past few weeks, this one spoke to me the loudest: "Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I obey your word." Psalm 119: 67  Friends, listen for God's voice in your life, and obey it.  It may seem like there is an easier or a better way, but there isn't.  There just isn't. 
  

Rest in Peace, Little Dino.