Inigo Montoya said it all for me in Princess Bride: "I hate waiting."
On June 28th, the joyful flow of hopes and day dreams I had for our little "sweet pea" came to a jolting halt. After five days of waiting for the results of the ultrasound, I learned over the phone that there was a 7-week-old sac that was empty with no heart beat. I journaled out the contents of my heart the next day. I battled between wanting to hope and accepting the demise. Three days later, we were moving. I waited expectantly for the natural miscarriage to begin. On moving day, I had spotting. I was sad, but felt relieved at the same time. I poured all my nervous energy into throwing boxes and furniture around, scrubbing the kitchen tile on my hands and knees, chugging a 2L bottle of coke (give me a break! I hadn't had any in over a month! lol) and insisting I was fine. I would have been going up and down the stairs if my husband and in-laws hadn't stopped me. I had a streaming cold, too. I wanted to work myself to the point of exhaustion. I wanted to bring on what was coming, if it was going to come at all. By lunch time, despite my efforts, I was no longer spotting and did no further until Thursday.
Every day that week, I waited. Going to the washroom has taken on a whole new meaning for me, and I look forward to the day when I can pee without having to expect or inspect! I tossed back and forth. Kevin would reassure me that soon this would be over and we would have an answer. As much as I knew he spoke the truth, it did not satisfy me.
"There is no maybe in this situation!" I expressed my frustration to him honestly. "Perhaps in our minds, because we don't know what has happened yet, but in reality our baby is either gone or alive. This is a black and white situation. How am I supposed to rest my mind in a "grey" area that I know does not exist?!"
I thank God that He brought me an answer soon after that conversation. These are the words that came to me:
"Whether your baby is still alive or gone, it is in Jesus' hands."
Let me type that again for my own benefit.
Whether my baby is still in my womb or its spirit has gone to heaven, my baby is in Jesus' hands. There is no better or safer place for my wanted-love to be. This was my turning point. This was the only image that could get me through. Even picturing our child in heaven was like a knife going through my heart. The separation is too great. But somehow picturing our sweet pea in His nail-pierced hands made some subtle difference that I could finally rest.
Last Friday, I had my second ultrasound and more blood work. I was anxious the night before. Many of my pregnancy systems have remained present and in the absence of spotting, I was starting to hope everything may still be viable. I cried and prayed with my mother that night. The day of the ultrasound, I felt completely at peace; except during the ultrasound, of course. I swear she had that wand pressing up against my kidneys! But peace resumed even when the technician restated the lab's policy of giving patients no diagnosis. "I cannot make comment," she repeated several times. Once she left the room for me to clean up, I took a peak at the screen before returning to the changing cubicle. I read her measurements and could see at once that the sac had not grown in two weeks.
I could not see how this could be a positive thing, but I still hoped. There didn't seem to be anything else for me to do. I had been escorted back to the "waiting room". Sometimes, it feels like a waiting room with 20 year old chairs, outdated magazines and monotonous artwork on the walls. Then there have been days where it feels more like a waiting cell. It's cold, dark, restrictive with only enough room for me to pace and become claustrophobic with my own worries and doubts. Yet even in the waiting cell, there is a thin ray of light coming through the bars to bring me hope. Even when I am at a low point, I know that this is a season which, thank heaven, is temporary by definition.
God, as always, has been merciful. The test was done Friday and we had the results by Monday! Much sooner than I had prayed for. "[God] is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine." Ephesians 3:20 God knew that I needed finality not just that day, but that very morning. I had woken up from a distressing dream which turned out to be prophetic. In the dream, I had a baby and realized that I needed a babysitter for a week because something had come up. As I made preparations, I realized that I had not seen my baby for awhile. In fact, I had not seen it since the day it was born. I started running around asking people, "Where did my baby go?" I woke up to my fingers dialing on an invisible phone mumbling out loud, "Where did my baby go?!" I lay in bed for awhile staring at the wall, mulling the dream over in my mind. I concluded that if there was any truth in it, the truth was that my baby was gone. Maybe my body had finally realized that the sac was empty. Maybe the hcg levels would descend quicker allowing my womb to release what it has already known for weeks. After days of having an incessant chatter of anxiety mixed with hope in my head, there was a silence. "I have to accept this." I said to myself.
Within 20 minutes, the phone rang. It was the nurse from my doctor's office. The radiologist's report explained that there was no change and concluded that the pregnancy was indeed no longer viable. The next few hours involved phone calls to get me referred to an OB in Stratford. Again, God has opened doors and allowed things to move at a quick pace. I thank Him. Tomorrow, I am going to the ER to meet the OB to discuss the options for moving forward. I need prayer and God's wisdom as I need to decide between natural miscarriage, medically induced miscarriage or a D& C. I have mixed feelings about each one. A natural miscarriage could leave me waiting still as my body does not seem to want to give this up and, of course, there are risks to waiting too long. I think what makes me cringe at the D& C is that it feels like an abortion. What a loaded word that is. It can spark forest fires depending on what context or forum it is used, so let's just leave it at the thought of having one makes me sick. Perhaps I will compromise with the pill (misoprostol) to get this ordeal over with.
So I am still waiting to miscarry, not too hopeful for a miracle anymore; not this time anyway. We will see what tomorrow awaits me at the hospital. God is our strength and ever present help in trouble. I cannot wait for this to be over, so Kevin and I can move forward in our life together and we believe, very soon, with an expanded family.
"The LORD is my strength and my shield
my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me.
My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him."
Psalm 28:7
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