From the start of my website/blogging journey, I intended to eventually create a page to journal my next pregnancy and home birth. Yes, I said HOME BIRTH! Home birth freaks a lot of people out, but I wanted to write about my experience because I believe so strongly in having my baby's entrance into this world be a sweet, peaceful moment where we can bond, instead of a frenzied hospital entrance where he is whisked away by nurses to be suctioned and poked and treated like an emergency. More on that someday in the future.
I meant to start this page about natural pregnancy and home birth a few months ago. In the very beginning of September, I woke up early one morning and took a pregnancy test. We were not trying, but I had been feeling like something was up. And to my surprise, the little digital window said "Pregnant"! I woke up my husband, and we both were shocked. Not in a bad way...but we were not expecting our lives to move this quickly! It only took about 5 minutes for both of us to realize that we were excited. Very excited. We called everyone we knew to tell them the news.
I found a midwife and we had our first visit at 8 weeks. We saw the little bean on an ultrasound, and everything looked great. Except for the fact that I had morning sickness - more like all day sickness - so bad that I could barely function! Finally when I got almost to week 12, I started feeling better and I was so relieved that the worst was over. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, I began spotting. I didn't worry about it because I felt that I was almost to my 2nd trimester, and it was very light. Many women say this happens to them and there is no problem. I sent my midwife a text message to tell her what was happening, and she said, "maybe you should get an ultrasound tomorrow". Then I got a little nervous, but I still didn't think anything was wrong. I was still feeling pretty nauseous and I had always heard that the more nausea you have, the healthier your baby is in there.
Well, the next day we went in for an ultrasound. The minute I saw the picture on the screen I knew it was not good news. There was no heartbeat, and the baby had stopped growing at 8 weeks and 5 days.
There is nothing that can describe the feelings in that moment. It felt like we were in a nightmare. My 17 month old was in the ultrasound room with us. Suddenly my mind flashed back to the time we saw his 8 week little body on the screen during his ultrasound. At that time we could hardly comprehend the miracle of that little 8 week bean growing into this wonderful little man - This sweet little boy we have who loves oranges and "blankie" and cars and fish tanks. This little guy who dances with the Backyardigans and follows me around all day saying "Mum!".
Suddenly I realized that there was no way to convince my mind or my heart that this was just a fetus or just tissue. No matter how badly I wanted to turn off the part of my heart that could feel this pain, I couldn't do it. This was our baby. We were looking at our baby, and there was no movement and no beating heart. This was our baby, who had a brother and a mommy and a daddy who loved him, our baby whom I had imagined meeting for the first time. This was our baby who had just died.
Miscarriage is such a taboo topic. Nobody knows what to do or say. How do we mourn the loss of someone we have never met? How can you miss someone you never knew? And at what point do you consider this a life lost? We live in a country that considers unborn children as nonexistent. 4000 babies are aborted in this country every day. Children with no names, no one mourning their lost life. In the light of all this, no wonder no one knows how to mourn when their unborn child dies. Society says it's not important - shove it under the rug. Forget this happened and move on. Well intentioned people trying to offer comfort say, "you can have another baby". Or "Something must have been wrong with this baby. It is better that this happened".
My response to these statements are this: Yes, we can and will have more babies someday. But this was still our baby. This was not a life that was disposable. We don't just throw this pregnancy out and move on. We loved this baby because he was a little life and he was ours. And in response to "something must have been wrong" we say if he would have been born with problems then we would still love him the same. Who are we to decide who deserves to live and who should die? If I did carry this baby to term and he was born with special needs, would we wish we would have miscarried? NO. We live in a country where women have prenatal testing to determine if their baby is at risk for downs syndrome, malformations, genetic disorders, etc. early enough in their pregnancy so they can decide if they want to abort the pregnancy or continue despite these risks. This breaks my heart.
It's been a few weeks since our devastating news. In the last few weeks I think we have experienced every emotion imaginable. We have felt so cared for and loved by so many people, and to those of you who have taken such great care and cried with us and prayed for us and are still praying for us, we are so thankful for you. Since our miscarriage, many many women have come to me and told me that they have been through the same thing. I have appreciated those of you who have shared your stories with me. What a comfort to know I am not alone.
If this had happened to me a few years ago, I might have tried to live in denial of this pain. To spare making anyone on the outside feel uncomfortable, I would have spoken little on this topic and wore a smile to cover up the truth. But because I am not who I used to be and because Christ is continually making me new, I know that even in this grieving process he is directing my every step. First of all, I have a husband who has handled this better than any man I know could have handled this situation. He has cried with me. Watching him deal with this like a real man, and loving our baby just as much as I loved our baby- who I carried in my womb, has allowed me to follow right behind him and walk through this instead of around it. Secondly, every time I have been tempted to shut down and deny the sadness that I feel, I have a clear realization that I do not have to pretend that a death didn't take place. The reality is, we lost our baby. And whether I was 2 weeks pregnant or 40 weeks pregnant when this happened, it was still just as much of a life. If I do not believe this to be true, then how can I say that abortion is wrong? If I do not mourn the death of my own child because I decide that a 8 week 5 day old baby in the womb is less of a life than a 2 day old newborn, then why does my heart hurt when I read that 4000 babies are aborted per day in our country?
I write this more for myself than for anyone else. Mourning a miscarriage is not something many people talk about. But I feel that's all the more reason to talk about it.
From day one, Ish said we were having a boy. I have to say, I don't think he has ever guessed wrong- not with any of our friends or family. He has a weird talent for this. So I believe him. We decided to name him Judah. Judah means "praise". And for a moment, we literally lost "Praise". But a few days after we lost him, Ish got a tattoo. It reads "Judah goes before me". Praise goes before me...we will praise God. In life and in death. He gives and he takes away, but he knows what he is doing and he is sovereign. Even when I don't understand. I just know that I don't have to understand because he is good. He has never forgotten me. EVER.
I still have a lot on my mind...but this the small part of it that I could get into words. I pray that whatever you are going through today...no matter how great your suffering...that you feel the grace of God that much more.
Eventually I will write about my natural pregnancy and home birth in this blog. But I felt that I can't get to that story until I told this one :)
I meant to start this page about natural pregnancy and home birth a few months ago. In the very beginning of September, I woke up early one morning and took a pregnancy test. We were not trying, but I had been feeling like something was up. And to my surprise, the little digital window said "Pregnant"! I woke up my husband, and we both were shocked. Not in a bad way...but we were not expecting our lives to move this quickly! It only took about 5 minutes for both of us to realize that we were excited. Very excited. We called everyone we knew to tell them the news.
I found a midwife and we had our first visit at 8 weeks. We saw the little bean on an ultrasound, and everything looked great. Except for the fact that I had morning sickness - more like all day sickness - so bad that I could barely function! Finally when I got almost to week 12, I started feeling better and I was so relieved that the worst was over. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, I began spotting. I didn't worry about it because I felt that I was almost to my 2nd trimester, and it was very light. Many women say this happens to them and there is no problem. I sent my midwife a text message to tell her what was happening, and she said, "maybe you should get an ultrasound tomorrow". Then I got a little nervous, but I still didn't think anything was wrong. I was still feeling pretty nauseous and I had always heard that the more nausea you have, the healthier your baby is in there.
Well, the next day we went in for an ultrasound. The minute I saw the picture on the screen I knew it was not good news. There was no heartbeat, and the baby had stopped growing at 8 weeks and 5 days.
There is nothing that can describe the feelings in that moment. It felt like we were in a nightmare. My 17 month old was in the ultrasound room with us. Suddenly my mind flashed back to the time we saw his 8 week little body on the screen during his ultrasound. At that time we could hardly comprehend the miracle of that little 8 week bean growing into this wonderful little man - This sweet little boy we have who loves oranges and "blankie" and cars and fish tanks. This little guy who dances with the Backyardigans and follows me around all day saying "Mum!".
Suddenly I realized that there was no way to convince my mind or my heart that this was just a fetus or just tissue. No matter how badly I wanted to turn off the part of my heart that could feel this pain, I couldn't do it. This was our baby. We were looking at our baby, and there was no movement and no beating heart. This was our baby, who had a brother and a mommy and a daddy who loved him, our baby whom I had imagined meeting for the first time. This was our baby who had just died.
Miscarriage is such a taboo topic. Nobody knows what to do or say. How do we mourn the loss of someone we have never met? How can you miss someone you never knew? And at what point do you consider this a life lost? We live in a country that considers unborn children as nonexistent. 4000 babies are aborted in this country every day. Children with no names, no one mourning their lost life. In the light of all this, no wonder no one knows how to mourn when their unborn child dies. Society says it's not important - shove it under the rug. Forget this happened and move on. Well intentioned people trying to offer comfort say, "you can have another baby". Or "Something must have been wrong with this baby. It is better that this happened".
My response to these statements are this: Yes, we can and will have more babies someday. But this was still our baby. This was not a life that was disposable. We don't just throw this pregnancy out and move on. We loved this baby because he was a little life and he was ours. And in response to "something must have been wrong" we say if he would have been born with problems then we would still love him the same. Who are we to decide who deserves to live and who should die? If I did carry this baby to term and he was born with special needs, would we wish we would have miscarried? NO. We live in a country where women have prenatal testing to determine if their baby is at risk for downs syndrome, malformations, genetic disorders, etc. early enough in their pregnancy so they can decide if they want to abort the pregnancy or continue despite these risks. This breaks my heart.
It's been a few weeks since our devastating news. In the last few weeks I think we have experienced every emotion imaginable. We have felt so cared for and loved by so many people, and to those of you who have taken such great care and cried with us and prayed for us and are still praying for us, we are so thankful for you. Since our miscarriage, many many women have come to me and told me that they have been through the same thing. I have appreciated those of you who have shared your stories with me. What a comfort to know I am not alone.
If this had happened to me a few years ago, I might have tried to live in denial of this pain. To spare making anyone on the outside feel uncomfortable, I would have spoken little on this topic and wore a smile to cover up the truth. But because I am not who I used to be and because Christ is continually making me new, I know that even in this grieving process he is directing my every step. First of all, I have a husband who has handled this better than any man I know could have handled this situation. He has cried with me. Watching him deal with this like a real man, and loving our baby just as much as I loved our baby- who I carried in my womb, has allowed me to follow right behind him and walk through this instead of around it. Secondly, every time I have been tempted to shut down and deny the sadness that I feel, I have a clear realization that I do not have to pretend that a death didn't take place. The reality is, we lost our baby. And whether I was 2 weeks pregnant or 40 weeks pregnant when this happened, it was still just as much of a life. If I do not believe this to be true, then how can I say that abortion is wrong? If I do not mourn the death of my own child because I decide that a 8 week 5 day old baby in the womb is less of a life than a 2 day old newborn, then why does my heart hurt when I read that 4000 babies are aborted per day in our country?
I write this more for myself than for anyone else. Mourning a miscarriage is not something many people talk about. But I feel that's all the more reason to talk about it.
From day one, Ish said we were having a boy. I have to say, I don't think he has ever guessed wrong- not with any of our friends or family. He has a weird talent for this. So I believe him. We decided to name him Judah. Judah means "praise". And for a moment, we literally lost "Praise". But a few days after we lost him, Ish got a tattoo. It reads "Judah goes before me". Praise goes before me...we will praise God. In life and in death. He gives and he takes away, but he knows what he is doing and he is sovereign. Even when I don't understand. I just know that I don't have to understand because he is good. He has never forgotten me. EVER.
I still have a lot on my mind...but this the small part of it that I could get into words. I pray that whatever you are going through today...no matter how great your suffering...that you feel the grace of God that much more.
Eventually I will write about my natural pregnancy and home birth in this blog. But I felt that I can't get to that story until I told this one :)
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