This is the story I never wanted to write or even share in any detail. Why? Because it still causes pain, sadness and a feeling of a big empty spot.
When my husband and I got married we had decided that given our age we would not prevent pregnancy but instead hoped for a little one all our own. I was excited and thrilled with the idea of being a mom to a newborn again. I was excited to see a new little life grow up as I had watched my oldest daughter grow. To my great delight I found out that I was indeed pregnant. October 23, I got a very clear positive test. I remember rushing to tell my husband. I took his hand and put it on my tummy and I remember saying, " Meet your baby" . The smile on his face was priceless. Our dream was coming true and I couldn't be happier. We had a Dr. Appointment and found out my thyroid was high. I was started on synthroid. We had an ultrasound at 10 weeks 3 days. The baby was only measuring 9 weeks 5 days. What was worse was the look on the Dr. Face when she said " I am sorry, your baby doesn't have a heartbeat." I felt numb. I didn't know what to think. I was told I would miscarry in the next few weeks. I spent hours praying that our baby would be ok, hours crying that the results were wrong. On Dec 17th we were at an Awana Chistmas party and it happened. With a gush. I went to the washroom to see what was happening and saw my baby. Perfect little 9 week 5 day baby. The baby I was suppose to protect. The baby I prayed and cried for. There was that numbness again. I remember holding the little body in my hand, and crying and saying "I'm sorry little one". I was alone there, just me and my baby, and I didn't notice how badly I was bleeding, nor did i care. I felt like i had died as well. I then realized that i had to go to the hospital, I opened the door to allow my husband in. I was still holding our baby in my hand, I can still see the baby laying there. An image forever burned in my mind. I remember showing him but could not remember what he said. We then headed for the hospital.
Once at the hospital things got bad. I was hemorrhaging heavily, yet not much was being done. I was put in a side room and left there. I was bleeding so heavily that I passed out. It was then that I got moved to emergency. I know many times throughout the next hours passing clots the size of dinner plates. I know I could no longer sit without passing out. I was having contractions as my body was trying to pass the placenta. I remember them calling doctors but no one coming. I was bleeding out and no one was helping. The next morning a doctor finally came and did a d and c . At this point my blood count went to 70. Close to death I am told. It took months to regain any strength physically. Not only did I loose our baby, I lost all my strength.
The mental part of the miscarriage was so much more painful then the physical. I cried and cried. How could my baby die. I was so angry at God for taking my baby. He could have stopped it, how could he. We moved shortly after to another home. I remember spending hours a night out in the living room just crying in the middle of the night. I held it together through the day when people where around, when I was alone I lost it. Wanting to just hold my baby.
Then we chose to try again, and sure enough we got another positive test. I was happy but scared. I felt I was betraying the first baby I lost. I told my husband and we were both happy. Only a few short weeks later, bleeding yet again. After going to the hospital a few times no heartbeat was found and I would miscarry. This baby I would never see. I was bleeding again, but i was having proper care. My husband left around 11 to get some rest and would be back in an hour or 2. At about 11:45 PM the doctor said he would have to do a procedure to see if they could get the bleeding to stop. I was still in a blurry how could this be happening again? This time the doctor rolled me into a little er room with stirrups and proceeded to pull the baby from me. He said it was done. I asked to see the baby but was denied. He then rolled me back to the er and allowed me to "heal". Again came months of hurt like no other, pain like no other. Hours of crying for my babies.
Then one time while crying out to God why? I remember hearing " Your babies died, yes it is true, feeling no pain, feeling only love, and were right in my arms. You see how much you cry and love them. I GAVE my son, knowing he would suffer incredible pain, because I love you THAT much." That broke me. Yes indeed my babies died, and it hurt, I love them. Christ loves me more. I will one day hold those babies, because of Jesus' love. This started my healing. God didn't take my babies, we know now it was a problem I had with synthroid, but He now holds my babies and they know no pain. I held them every second of their life.
Fast forward to march2013 and we have another positive test, this baby we welcomed in October 2013, then her sisters followed in Nov 2015, Aug 1017. My God is one who heals, who loves me as much as he loves Jesus and who holds my other babies for me till I get there.
