A Worthy Accomplishment
In Luke 9:31, angels speak to Jesus of “his decease, which he should accomplish at Jerusalem.” What an unusual turn of phrase! We don’t usually think of death as an accomplishment, something to strive for. Rather, we use terms that suggest inaction or defeat like decline, pass away and lost his battle. But if you’ve spent any time at the bedside of a terminally ill patient, you will know: dying is hard work.
Losing James
I walked into the Pregnancy Loss Clinic on Monday, May 8 (the birthday of one of my children), drowning in trepidation. I couldn’t believe that my miscarriage could be successfully managed without a D&C. I was sure there would be something in my medical history that made me ineligible for the medication, or that the process would fail.
Bless This Pain
Bless this pain, for it will bear its perfect gift to you in its perfect time. (Rusty Berkus)
I learned to ride a bike back in the dinosaur times, before knee pads and helmets. When I was seven, my parents (bless them!) bought me a bike with room to grow into. My dad would take me to the street in front of my house (it ran down a gentle slope, which I remember as more of a precipice), perch me up on my heavy bike, run with me for awhile, and then let go. Over and over, I fell.
Dying Inside
How do you feel when you can’t protect your child? You die inside.
In the midst of all my anxiety and grief, there was a morning, April 11, when “I woke up and realized how very well I feel for being seven weeks pregnant.” I struggled with that realization, vacillating between panic and peace, for two weeks before my next scheduled doctor visit. Over and over, I relieved the day I had my D&E.
Time Machine
“I change my wrong things.”
I used to teach English online to children in China. (I loved how cute and enthusiastic those kids were, but I don’t miss my 4:00 AM wakeup times!) The company I taught for had an elaborate curriculum for the students based on stories and games. One of the stories they presented was about an adventurous boy with a time machine, travelling back to the Stone Age. At the end of the lesson, I asked, “If you had a time machine, what time would you travel to?”
Turmoil
I wonder if your body is getting ready to have a baby?
February and March were arduous. Winter dragged on. The strain of deciding to try again morphed into the raw suspense of actually trying. I was overwhelmed by the exigencies of mothering my six children, and exhausted by my grief, which hadn’t really diminished in spite of my expectations that it should. I contemplated taking antidepressants (at that point in my life, the possibility hung over me like an admission of failure) but decided not to because of the risks to another pregnancy.
Between 2005 and 2008, I lost four tiny babies to miscarriage. In an effort to help others who may be experiencing similar losses, I want to share the story of that journey. If you click on the title above, and then follow the “Next in Miscarriage Journey” links at the bottom of each post, you can read through my story sequentially.