Tuesday, April 23, 2019

poster child.




i never wanted to be the poster child for miscarriage, but here i am.

last thursday, i went in for an ultrasound. i was 10 weeks pregnant. a few days before, i just knew something had happened. the nausea + exhaustion were basically gone overnight. as the ultrasound tech started, my fears were confirmed. she did the measurements, and then mumbled something i can't remember. i kinda wanted to punch her in the face and tell her i wasn't an idiot. i knew there was no heartbeat. five minutes later, a PA came in to deliver the news. i cut her off as she started. "i already know." she apologized and asked if it was my first. i shook my head and whispered, "my third."

i shared about my first miscarriage last summer. i was 9 weeks along. i never publicly shared about the second one - five days into 2019, i miscarried at 5 weeks. it was hard, but i felt so much comfort from the Lord. i think there was a part of me that didn't believe it would happen again. like i had met my quota or something.

and yet- here i am again. my third miscarriage in nine months.

this time, i feel numb. the Lord feels distant, mostly of my own doing. i screamed at Him in my car on thursday morning, and i haven't said much to Him since. i tried praying this morning, but an hour later, the grief and questions took over again. between the distance and my anger, i wonder if He is even there. how could a God who is Love give me three dead babies? where is the love in that?

i haven't really left the house much the last several days. i don't need sad eyes looking my way. i don't need people asking me how i am. i don't need speculations or opinions on what i should do next or what so-and-so did. i don't need comfort or hugs or good vibes. there was a very low point where i didn't want any prayers, which means i desperately need them. i haven't turned my back on God, and i haven't forgotten all He has done for me. i'm just so numb. angry. broken.

miscarriage makes people uncomfortable. no one knows what to say and rightly so. the absolute best thing that a few people have told me is this: there are no words that i can say to make this better. the fact that they didn't try to explain it away or sugarcoat it with quippy phrases gave me the tiniest bit of solace.

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this may be the rawest thing i've ever written in my eight years of blogging. i didn't edit anything. i thought maybe writing it out would be therapeutic in some way. i never actually intended to share this with the world, but as i searched the internet for other stories, i kept coming across info posts about miscarriage, but not actual stories from real women. i didn't need another article detailing the step-by-step process because- hello, i'm already living it. i just wanted to know that maybe someone out there felt the same emptiness that i did.

but in posting this for the world to read, my hope is that when another woman has just been given devastating news of a miscarriage, she will come across my words and know that she's not alone.

miscarriage is a lonely experience. unless you've actually experienced it, you will never truly know that painful emotional + physical toll it takes on a woman. no one wants to be a statistic. i will never understand why it happened on this side of heaven. but i'm trying to take it day by day, moment by moment.


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