My story of miscarriage: “I have eternal life and so does my baby”

I woke up with the worst headache on February 7th. I am used to dealing with headaches, but this one was different. I just felt completely off. I stayed in bed all weekend, even missing church. Monday rolled around and I was somewhat better, but still just off. My husband Kyle was home that day and a man came by about updating our landscaping. I told him I wanted lots of bright flowers near the entryway. Then I went inside and took a pregnancy test, confirming that the “off” feeling was pregnancy.

We hadn’t been trying to conceive, but I knew I wanted another baby and was thrilled.

Sitting in church one Sunday,  we were talking about mission trips. Our Sunday school teacher encouraged us to pray about if we should be led to go on one, because all it would do was open our eyes to whether God wanted us serving that way. I prayed about a mission trip, and I kept being more and more nudged about adoption. Was God trying to open my eyes to adoption? I talked to Kyle and we agreed to pray about it. That was in December.

When I had a positive pregnancy test, I knew God’s plan for me was to have another baby, just maybe not by adoption.

At eight weeks pregnant, I had my first appointment and ultrasound. The ultrasound showed our sweet baby on the screen moving around. The baby had a strong heartbeat. We were so excited and told our two boys, Krews and Kole, that they would be big brothers. They were thrilled and fought over whether the baby would be a boy, girl, or robot. (Kole has a strong imagination.) We told our family and close friends. I felt comfortable that by eight weeks with a heartbeat, sharing our news was safe. Krews and Kole took pink and blue cupcakes to school to celebrate their new brother or sister.

But as I write this, yesterday was April 7th. Two months after I had discovered my exciting news. Two months after I had been living with this precious baby growing inside of me, dreaming of his or her precious future. I woke up and got dressed to go to my 12 week checkup. I was worried I looked fat and I put on leggings and a maternity shirt. And in my mind it was okay because by the third pregnancy you start showing after you take the test, ya know? I went in the doctors office and waited for my appointment. My dad had an appointment to check his levels because he has recently lost 35 pounds, and I was still worried about looking fat.

I sat there making a grocery list and working on different tasks, just like everything was normal. My dad came out and was telling all the ladies in the office that he just knew I was having a girl because he had prayed for a girl. Everyone was laughing over his excitement. He left and I was called back to see the doctor. Everything was still 100% normal, as I joked with our doctor (and close family friend) that my dad had been trying to bribe me to name my baby after him. He started listening for the heartbeat and couldn’t hear it. He went and changed the batteries in the Doppler. He did everything in his power to find that heartbeat. He tried to be calm and reassuring with me, and decided I needed to go to the hospital for an ultrasound. I got in my car and finally burst into tears, because I just knew something was wrong. I listed to the song “My Redeemer Lives” the entire way to the hospital. I kept telling myself that if my sweet bouncing baby I saw on the ultrasound had taken his or her last heartbeat, he or she was with my Redeemer, and my Redeemer lives.

I made it to the hospital first, with Kyle walking in shortly after me. I almost cried again when I laid my eyes on him. I got myself together and went in for the ultrasound. It took a very long time. She checked every single little thing, yet wouldn’t tell me anything. She was sweet and bubbly, and I was thankful to as least have a sweet ultrasound tech with us. I knew if there was a heartbeat she would have let me hear it. I have never felt more stupid for spending time that day worried I looked fat.

I drove home knowing I would spend the afternoon just waiting for a phone call to know if my baby was alive. In my heart, I knew what was happening. On the drive home, I drove past the cemetery my grandmother and grandfather are buried in. I had been worried this entire pregnancy because I only had two homemade blankets from my grandmother. One for Kole and one for Krews. What blanket would this baby have? Now I had such different questions, “If my baby is in heaven, do grandmother and grandfather see him or her? And what about my Gee or Doe? Is one of them rocking that baby for me?”

I got home and Kyle got here shortly after me. He finally got me to eat a little lunch, and we watched TV like we were zombies. Then the phone rang. Our sweet doctor could barely say the words. He was just as upset as we were that our baby was no longer alive. He told me our options and told me just to talk to Kyle and that we would touch base soon. I called my mom and asked her to tell other family members because I just couldn’t. I had Kyle text one of my friends to alert others. I was completely inconsolable. I decided to take a shower and when I walked into my closet and saw the summer maternity clothes I had just bought, I lost it. I threw all the clothes down. I just couldn’t handle it.

When I finally got myself together, Kyle brought the boys home. We told them that our baby was in Heaven. I had been dreading this conversation all afternoon. Luckily, they are too young to fully grasp things. Krews prayed for us to have another baby and asked if that would be okay with me. I told him of course, we would try to have another baby. They both also have such a strong childlike faith, and say with such excitement, “Aw, the baby’s in heaven with Jesus!”

Kyle took them out to keep their minds of off it and to give me a little time. One of my friends left something on my porch, and when I went to get it I saw the flowers planted that we had planned the day I found out I was expecting this baby. They were beautiful and had so much life. Just like this baby. This baby was given life, and I am so thankful I have been able to carry him or her. I would do it all over again, even though this is the most painful loss I have ever experienced.

I don’t really know what God’s plan is for us. I just know I have complete faith in Him. I felt led to share our story, and maybe this can help someone who faces a similar situation. I felt the need to talk about my sweet baby and do something besides cry. I never thought something like this would happen. With this happening so late and after we had a heartbeat, I have been a little shocked. It just goes to show that nothing is ever guaranteed in life, except that God will always be there. My faith is strengthened in knowing that I have eternal life and so does my baby.

I woke up this morning still in shock. I had nightmares all night. I still don’t know what to do, as I sit here still carrying this baby’s sweet little body. I have had no signs of miscarriage, even though I know what is happening. I even question sometimes, what if the baby is still alive? There are no good options when it comes to a loss like this. I ask for your prayers at this time. I am already amazed at the love and support that my friends and family have poured out over me. I love you all!

And he said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.” Job 1:21

(Read my original post at my blog, Life of a Fanny Pack Mom.)