My Miscarriage Story {Part3}

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Four hours of people-watching and a ruined pair of jeans later, I was finally seen by an emergency room doctor. He sent me for an ultrasound--a very thorough internal ultrasound with...wait for it... my BRAND NEW next door neighbor that I hadn't even met yet. "Hi, I'm Sara. Here are my lady parts. Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm probably not bringing you a plate of cookies after this." It was confirmed that I would need a D&C immediately.

Words cannot express how grateful I am for the surgical team God placed in my path that night. They were so comforting. The OB on-call for the night prayed with us and wiped my tears before they wheeled me into surgery. The words to Matt Redman's song, "Blessed Be Your Name" swirled around in my head over and over. I vaguely remember singing it as the anesthesia took effect and hearing someone in the operation room sing with me as I drifted off to sleep.

The week after the D&C was harder than I ever thought possible. I found myself wading in an ocean of grief and the waves knocked me down over and over until I was too tired to stand back up again. The deep, primal weeping and wailing found its way to the surface. I retreated to my bed and hid under the covers. I slept a lot. I barely showered. As we say in the South, I was a hot-mess.

Some trusted friends entered into my grief in very large ways. My best friend kept the boys overnight while I was having my D&C. Several friends brought meals. One friend showed up at my front door with two boxes of donuts because that's what she went through when she had her miscarriages. Another friend showed up with a bouquet of gerber daisies--four red and one white to represent our family. Cards. Text messages. Coming over to sit, weep with me and pray over me. Every single one of these acts of love were so simple, but they helped me not to let the waves of grief hold me down for very long.

While I was allowed time to grieve, I was also encouraged to keep moving forward so I wouldn't get stuck in my grief. I had two boys to care for and a life to live. One day my best friend lovingly called me stinky and told me to take a shower. I had to text her a picture for proof that my task was complete. Each day I did something more than I did the day before until I was back into the swing of things.

The waves of grief still find me occasionally. For instance, today I finally cleaned out the bag the OBGYN gave me at my first visit containing samples, baby coupons, and pre-registration papers for delivery. I shed a few tears, pulled it together and fixed lunch for the boys while listening to "Blessed Be your Name" on Pandora.

While I'd give almost anything to hold my baby in October, God has been so gracious and poured out blessings in the midst of our grief. Women in our family have shared the secret of their own miscarriages many years ago. Friendships have been taken to a different level of intimacy. I have been given an opportunity to minister to others through sharing my grief.

I may never know why I didn't get to hold my child this side of Heaven, but I know this...my lullabies can never compare to the lullabies in Heaven. My child is doing exactly what we are all created to do: worshiping God. I take great comfort in that.

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