The Aftermath of My Miscarriage

I left off on yesterday with mixed emotions after the failed pregnancy and the decision now needing to be made on whether to commit to having the d & c procedure performed to remove the yolk sak and remnants of the pregnancy, or to allow my body to miscarry naturally.  I left the imaging center after speaking with my doctor VERY CONFUSED emotionally. I remember crying for a few moments as I shared the news with my husband, my sister and brother and finally my best friend/spritual sister.  It was very strange that I wasn't expecting this "miracle" in the first place, had mixed emotions surrounding the pregnancy, and now had to try and wrap my mind around the sudden thought of NOT being pregnant and even worse-now having to share the bad news with all that we told in our exuberance-- especially my daughter. I remember sending out a group text message to most of my friends hoping that no phone calls would follow, and thinking "how will we tell my daughter and simply break her heart?"  I also considered her friends and all the people at her school, girl scouts, and the like.  There was an underlying spirit of shame, despite the ordeal being outside of  my control, an irrational helplessness, and at the same time, I did not want the pity of those not really close to me regarding my personal tragedy. These series of events were truly an emotional roller coaster!

My husband and I decided that the d & c would be best to remove the element of surprise and to also bring about a finality to the entire fiasco.  I scheduled the procedure for the following Monday, which was five days away.  I realized how good God was when I had my best friend to talk to about everything, as she'd just suffered a miscarriage two months prior to the day .  I was able to ask her questions about how she broke the news to her kids, what to expect with the procedure, the recovery time, etc.  She shared it all on the trip from the imaging center to my daughter's school, and I realized also that even though I felt that I was there for her during her crisis, we really don't know what a woman goes through in this situation unless we've personally gone through it.  Now it was time--I was parked in front of the school with lumps in my now lifeless belly and reluctant to go in.  My husband and I decided that I would tell my daughter in the car since we knew that she'd be excited and anxious to see the picture of her brother from my doctor visit.  I prayed for strength, wiped the tears from my eyes and moved forward.  When I arrived at her classroom, she jumped for joy and immediately asked to see the picture.  I nonchalantly told her that we'd talk about it outside.  As if God himself was giving me more time and reassurance that all is in His hands, the aftercare provider who attends my church told me about a story of faith surrounding a sick member in our congregation who passed away after 11 years-- only after she'd completed all that she wanted to with her children, even after the doctors initially gave her a prognosis of two months to live.  We discussed how God had all the power in His hands and was good all the time. Despite the fact that she had no idea what I was going through, her story gave me hope. 


My daughter and I walked out of the school and she asked again to see the picture.  I told her that unfortunately there were problems with the pregnancy and that her brother did not make it--he went home to be with God.  She burst into tears and I did my best to console her.  She immediately wanted to speak to her father, and we talked together about how God is in control and that instead of bringing her brother into the world with health problems, God chose to take him home to heaven where there would be no pain or suffering.  We told her that she could name him whatever she wanted and we'd make pictures, write poems, and keep a memory box that we'd dedicate to him.  My daughter sobbed uncontrollably for awhile, and I realized that all of her hopes and dreams of becoming a "big sister" came to a sudden halt.  I told her that she could call my best friend's 10 year old daughter when she was ready, that she could share how she got through it.  We arrived home and my husband met us in the kitchen where we all shared a hug that encompassed all of our grief and at the same time embodied the strength that would get us through the pain together as a family.

I will continue next time with how God uses our children to bring forth messages of hope--what's in a name? Zechariah Dwayne Jones..........