This is a long overdue update on our journey to baby Abraham. Make sure to open in browser because the video doesn’t show up on the app for some reason.
It’s been a little over six months since my last post, the one where I said I would try to post more consistently. SMH. I’ve been wanting to post for the longest but just never really get around to it. I’ve been keeping up with everyone, just not commenting. My heart has broken with some of you and rejoiced with those who are finally getting their miracle.
These past months have continued to be a roller coaster of emotions for me. Some days, I’m so sad and discouraged, I can barely stand it. Then some days, I’m so full of faith and know without a doubt that God will do what He has promised.
Here’s what’s been going on with me:
1. We bought a new house. It’s a complete renovation project. We are also in the process of selling our current house. It’s Exciting and Expensive but I know it will all be worth it.
2. My husband and I have adopted a ‘mostly’ plant based diet. At first, I did it as a challenge and because of the health benefits. Then, I began to notice a difference in the way my body felt. I lost a few pounds in the right places and have lots of energy. I’ve been obsessively watching documentaries about the food in our country and I must say I was shocked. I say we are ‘mostly’ plant based because hubby and I are free spirits and have left open the option of cheat days. It’s been almost two months and we haven’t had any meat/fish. We have stayed mostly away from dairy products as well. It sounds drastic to most people but it hasn’t been bad. We may add in seafood again at some point but for now I’m ok without it.
3. Hubby and I have been seeking God’s timing for a major decision regarding our future family. Sorry to be vague but prayerfully, more details will be coming soon.
Well, that is all for now. Thanks to all those who have checked on me and have sent me words of encouragement. They almost always come at times when I’m feeling weak.
Please continue to pray for healing in body and that I would stay strong and continue to stand on the Word of God.
Until next time….
I remember towards the end 2012, I couldn’t wait for 2013. It couldn’t come fast enough. As if one digit at the end of the year would change my life. I thought for sure 2013 would be my year. The year I would get pregnant and/or have a baby. The year I would leave the pain of infertility and miscarriage behind me. Unfortunately, 2013 turned out to be worse than 2012. I spent a majority of the year mourning the child I loss. I spent most of the year depressed. As I look back on the past few years, I feel as if I’ve allowed life to pass me by. I missed many events. The ones I went to, I rarely enjoyed. I Spent way too many days in my bed. I cried more tears than I could ever count. I don’t want 2014 to be anything like 2012 or 2013.
During church, the Sunday before New Years, God gave me the words PEACE, JOY, and VICTORY for the year 2014. I want to celebrate and enjoy life, despite my circumstances. I want my life to be a living testimony.
My husband and I are believing, by faith, that this is our year. God has already spoken to us about when it will happen. We wait with expectation and anticipation.
If it doesn’t happen this year, or ever….
Here’s to a life of JOY, PEACE AND VICTORY. And hopefully more consistent blog posts!!
Life as I knew it, came to a screeching halt. One day you are planning for the rest of your life, and literally the next day, it’s over. I didn’t just lose a child, I lost all the dreams I had for that child. I lost potential memories. All the plans and hope I had; gone!! I lost the chance to be his/her mother on this side of heaven. I lost the innocence of being pregnant for the first time. I now know, from personal experience, what can go wrong. How do you come back from that? I lost a part of myself. I can remember crying out to God that something had to give. The sadness and grief were overwhelming. I thought I would never truly be happy again. Some thought another baby would ”fix” me. That it would somehow replace the one I had lost. But I knew it wouldn’t. I was broken. And no baby could ever fix that kind of brokenness.
What followed was months of depression. I was absolutely miserable. I was in a very dark place and didn’t know how to escape. I spent probably 3-4 months without praying. I was upset with God and completely let go of any resemblance of a relationship with Him. I never stopped believing in Him or His existence. I was upset because I knew He had the power to prevent all this heartache. I didn’t even know why He allowed me to get pregnant in the first place. As I’ve said before, and I will say again, I would much rather live with the thought of not ever having children than to go through what I went through. I still feel that way. I still went to midweek and Sunday services whenever I could. I did not sing during praise and worship. My heart was hard. The few times I tried to pray, my words were choppy. I was a complete mess. If I wasn’t in church or at work, I was in my bed. If was in my bed, I was either watching tv or sleeping. I slept a lot! Those who know me personally, know I’m no stranger to napping. But this was different. I would make myself sleep as much as my body would allow. It was my way of escape. Sleep was the only time I didn’t think about the child I lost or feel extreme sadness. It was the only time my mind was at rest.
I was letting life pass me by. I missed out on a lot of events. Often times, avoiding things that I thought would be triggers. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a baby shower. Many of the ones I felt I couldn’t miss, fell on days I had to work, but I wasn’t complaining. I should have been planning my baby shower. I should be buying these gifts and cute outfits for my baby. Family events were torture. Most times, I went because of my hubby. It broke my heart to be around everyone and all of their children and still be the childless one. I should have been pregnant at those events. I should have been toting a baby at those events.
Then came the baby boom. You know….When literally everyone you know is pregnant. It seemed like every month someone else was popping up pregnant. Everyone of them was a reminder of my miscarriage and the fact that I still wasn’t pregnant. I guess part of me thought since I was able to get pregnant once, somehow that turned on a fertility switch. Boy, was I wrong.
There were lots bad days and some ok days. Just when I thought at I was doing ok, that magazine I subscribed to when I thought I would still be pregnant came in the mail. Of course reminding me how far along I would have been. Or that random person asks when me I plan on having kids. Or another person I knew was pregnant or gave birth. Or I would have to go work and put on my “happy face.”
I lived my life in coulda’s and shoulda’s. I constantly imagined how far along I would be in my pregnancy. How big my belly would be. How my clothes would fit. How I would fit into the baby boom. How my child would have lots of playmates his/her age. Days turned into months. No baby in my belly or my arms. Then my due date came and went. No one remembers you on your due date. It fell a few days before Mother’s Day. It should have been my first Mother’s Day. No one remembers you on that day either.
I was mad at the people who I felt should have been a better friend to me. Those I felt should have been there. Mad at those who never even acknowledged what happened. Mad at those who made the list of people still say the darnedest things. I was mad at the world.
I turned into an angry, bitter, resentful and cynical person. I didn’t like that person. I didn’t like those feelings. That’s a bad place to be. I can’t go back to that place.
A week after the surgery, I followed up with my OB. The bleeding had slowed down and I wasn’t cramping as much. I was looking forward to putting the worst moments of my life behind me. Only I wasn’t done just yet. I was informed that my pregnancy test was still showing up positive. Go figure!! I would have to follow-up, once again, in a week, to have another pregnancy test done. If still positive, I would possibly have to have a D&C again. It seemed like this nightmare would never end.
Thankfully, at my umpteenth follow-up, my pregnancy test came back negative. Never thought I’d be happy to have a negative pregnancy test. Before leaving the office one of the staff members pointed out that I still seemed pretty down. Uh yeah. The baby I prayed for, for almost two years, died. That’s not just something you get over in 2 weeks!! Of course, I didn’t say that. I nodded, acknowledging the pain I was feeling. To which she responded, “You should try to think of this as a new beginning.” I forgot to add that to my post of People Still Say the Darndest Things. Really? Who says that? I could go on and on about how inappropriate of a comment that was. Even now, I smh at that comment. So off I went, to start my “new beginning.”
A week later, I returned to work. I had only told 2 people and my boss about the pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage. The only reason I told my boss was because I needed time off following the miscarriage. I am so glad I didn’t share it with more of my co-workers. I’m not sure if word got out or not, but people did notice that something was wrong with me. I literally felt sick to my stomach being back at work. I had absolutely no desire to be there at all. I couldn’t even fake it. Did I mention that I am a Labor and Delivery Nurse? So for me, work was not a distraction from everything I had just been through. It was a constant reminder. I was absolutely miserable. I even told my husband that I didn’t want to work there anymore. Since I was a child, I knew I wanted to work in Obstetrics. But at times, being at work was absolutely unbearable. An 18 year old delivers her third child. A drug addict has a perfectly normal pregnancy and delivery. How is that fair?? I don’t believe that anyone deserves to lose a child. Every child is a blessing, whether planned or not. Many great people come from not so great, unfit parents. But I often wondered why this was my cross to bear. How ironic and cruel it is to be an L&D nurse, and not be able to experience for yourself, the miracle of life that you help countless strangers through.
Stay tuned for last and final Part 5.
Two days later, we decided to go to church because it seemed like the right thing to do. I dreaded going in there, facing the people that knew what happened. I also didn’t want to deal with the people who didn’t know. We made it through most of the church service without shedding a tear. We go to one of those churches where you talk to your neighbor. I can’t remember what the sermon was about or what we had to tell our neighbors. I didn’t say anything to my neighbor and didn’t care. Somehow, it turned into praying for your neighbor. My SIL came and found us and prayed with us. At that moment, we lost it.
After church, we decided that we were going to go out to eat with some fellow church members. We thought it would be a good distraction. Big mistake!! I was miserable the whole time. Then we found out that a couple, that happened to be sitting our table, were expecting. They were about three months along. Really God? There are no words. I would later find out that their due date was 5 days before mine.
I think it was that following Monday that I had a follow up appointment. The OB made it a point to reassure me that there was nothing I did to cause the miscarriage to happen. He said that I shouldn’t blame myself. The truth is, I never blamed myself. I never blamed the enemy. I blamed God.
I was still bleeding heavily, so I was told that I would need to have a D&C. In other words, I had to have surgery to remove any remains left from the pregnancy. This is to prevent infection and prevent me from losing too much blood. Once again, my body failed me.
The day of surgery was a disaster. I wouldn’t expect anything less. My husband, mother and I arrived at the hospital at 5 am only to be told I wasn’t on the surgery schedule. Of course, my OB office was closed. They wouldn’t call the doctor. They registered us and we just waited. When the office opened, we went there to explain the dilemma. Thankfully, the office was in the same hospital. Then we were told to go to the pre-op area. Upon arriving there, they still insisted I wasn’t on the surgery schedule. It was so frustrating to deal with on top of everything we had just been through. I was nervous, as this was my first surgery. After a lot of back and forth, and numerous phone calls, I was taken back into the pre-op area. I had my husband pray for me before I went back. They prepped me for surgery and then allowed my family to come see me. I could tell my husband was nervous. They gave me Versed, I believe, and told them to say their goodbyes now, because soon I would be out of it. The last thing I remember was them rolling my bed away.
Sometime later, I woke up from surgery. I was discharged home, about an hour later, with orders to follow up in a week.
Stay tuned for Part 4
October 12. I got home that evening from a pizza run that I had been craving all day. Sometime afterwards, my stomach started hurting. I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. That’s when I felt something come out. I looked down to see lots of blood and clots. For sometime, I alternated between my bed and the bathroom.
My husband got home about an hour later. I told him what was going on, and he asked what I wanted to do. I told him I didn’t really want to, but that we should go to the emergency room. Before we left the house, he said we should pray. So that’s what we did.
The hospital is only ten minutes away from our home, but it felt like forever. I was in so much pain. We arrived, checked in and waited to be seen. It didn’t take long for them to put us in a room. The nurse asked her usual questions, drew blood and started an IV. We were there for hours. My husband went home to get food and bring me back a change of clothes. He even got pulled over on the way. Of course, no ticket when your pregnant wife is in the hospital bleeding.
It took about 2-3 hours total before we got an ultrasound. My husband came with me. He and I watched as the tech did her thing. I couldn’t see the screen, but he did. I figured since she didn’t say anything to reassure us that everything was fine, the inevitable had happened. We both held on to hope. He later told me he knew that ultrasound was unlike any of the other ones, but his faith wouldn’t allow him to accept what he saw.
Once back in the ER bed, the Physician Assistant came in to see us. While performing an exam and taking specimens, I felt like he was beating around the bush. All I remember thinking was what about the baby. I finally asked him. To which he replied, “It looks like you had a miscarriage.” Immediately, I broke into tears. He asked if this was our first pregnancy. Yes. Then he said something to the effect that things like this happen. No compassion. No empathy. Just cold. Our nurse didn’t even offer a tissue for my tears.
He told us that it looked like I had passed most of the “tissue” and could go home. We were discharged and rode home in silence. When we got home, my husband finally broke down. He wept in my arms. I’ve never seen such hurt in his eyes. I’ve never seen him so broken. He wanted this baby just as bad as I did. This was the child we prayed for, for 19 months. This was supposed to be the end of our testimony. It was as if he had held on to all that emotion as long as he could, until that very moment. Before we went to bed, he made us pray. In my heart, I had no desire to pray, but I followed his lead.