After we left the Dr’s office after being told our little one most likely would not make it, I was in a complete fog. I could tell a meltdown was just seconds from erupting and tried my best to get to the car without incident. After taking the elevator down 1 floor that felt like took 30 minutes, I rushed to the car, tears streaming down my face. I had worn a mask in the Dr’s office because I was still getting over a cold, so the mask helped camouflage the tears. I get the the car, take off my mask, and lose it. Sley kept saying, “Everything’s going to be alright shug…we will just try again.” I knew he was just trying to comfort me any way that he could but I didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t know the pain my heart I was going through knowing I failed at the one thing I wanted most in my life.
Before we could make it out of the parking lot, I was sobbing. Not the quiet, one tear streaming down your face, praying no one notices, cry. Oh no. This was the hard cry. The one where there is loads of snot, and screams, along with a headache, gasping for air, cries. You know, the ‘good for the soul’ kinda cry where everything in you is completely emptied out on the table for God to sort out because He is the only one in control of your unborn baby’s life.
I just didn’t understand! How could these teenagers have baby after baby, give it up for adoption (if they didn’t decide to abort first), do drugs, smoke and drink, live irresponsibly, but I could be a good Mom for my baby, the baby I have always wanted, but suddenly my baby was going to be taken away. I was angry. I was judgmental. I was hurt. Even though I was angry and hurt, I still believed God had a bigger plan and I trusted Him, even though I didn’t understand. While I questioned God’s motives, I never stopped believing that He loves me. I believe He was in the car with me that day, holding me as I’m sure my husband was freaking out, not knowing how to fix the grief stricken woman sitting next to him. “Be still and KNOW that I am God”…
I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want reality to set in. I didn’t want to see the baby gifts Sley had given me a few days before to celebrate my first Mother’s Day. I didn’t want to see the baby giraffe I bought for my baby that I held every night, praying. Sley just drove. Sometimes the ride was quiet; sometimes all you heard were my sobs and pleas. I had been sick a few days before and still couldn’t taste anything. I asked Sley to stop at Starbucks. It was hot that day so I asked for a Frappuccino instead of my usual hot White Chocolate Mocha. It was the icing on the cake when I got the drink and couldn’t taste it. We walked in Hobby Lobby and I just remember walking. I was there in body but my heart and mind were somewhere else. I had wanted to go to the Hobby Lobby so much because I heard so many good things about it but now that I was there, I just walked, trying to keep it together so I wouldn’t scare any customers off. All the grief I had taken from others about becoming pregnant, standing up for what I knew was right, I felt was all in vain. I went through all of that for my baby to die.
All afternoon, my phone rang and I never answered a single call. I was with Sley and at that moment, that was all I needed.
We finally made it home and went to bed. I lived the next few days like nothing was wrong. I wasn’t bleeding so maybe God was going to prove these doctors wrong! “Thank you Jesus!” I prayed, “sorry for doubting Your ability to heal!”.
A few nights later as I was getting ready for bed, after going to the bathroom, there it was. Evidence that my baby was no more. I walked to the bedroom and told Sley what was happening. I was freaking out because 1- I had no pads at his house because I moved in when I was pregnant and didn’t need any…2- I had no “regular” undies for the pads to fit in…Sley doesn’t think twice after telling him my “issues”, hops out of bed to get dressed, all while asking me what exactly I needed him to pick me up from Walmart. What a sweet, sweet man. As I was telling me, I got this strong urge of not wanting to be by myself so we both hopped in the car, me with some folded paper towels between my legs, and both head to the store at 11pm. I normally wear tampons and I didn’t feel that tampons were appropriate with this so I headed for the pads. I had not worn pads since middle school so I didn’t know which ones to get. I didn’t know what to expect either so I ended up getting the HUGE pack of extra-long HUGE pads that feel like you have a roll of paper towels between your legs and when you sit, it feels like your crack gets a little extra cushion! Anyway, I thought Sley would have been mortified because I sure was! I headed to buy some granny panties (to which I am almost positive Sley had some smart comment to break the ice). As we are heading out the door from paying, Sley grabs the enormous bag of pads (that were too big for a bag) and lifts them over his head in the parking lot on the way to the car. At that moment, this right here was equivalent to a knight in shining armor showing up on a pretty white horse to rescue me from a tall tower my step mother had locked me in to keep me from going to the ball, with my glass slipper, long hair, and talking dishes.
I didn’t know what to expect. When I first started miscarrying, the only sign I had was in the pad. I didn’t have any pain, just heavy flow. Well, I should’ve knocked on some pretty hard wood because a few days later, the pain hit, and boy did it hit! Every 30 seconds I would have a contraction. I would cry, and shake, and sweat. Sley begged me to call the Dr. on call since it was the weekend and finally I did. I cried on the phone while I was in pain. She prescribed me meds to alleviate some of the pain after I promised to come in the office Monday morning. The few hours between calling the Dr. and getting the meds creeped as I lay in the fetal position on the floor crying in pain as Sley sat frantic; rocking me, whispering that he wished it was he who was going through the pain instead of me. The meds put me in a fog but I was finally able to rest.
That day changed us both. My husband is one heck of a man and I am out of this world lucky to have him by my side. I really believe this brought us closer to one another and God. The weeks following and even now, I still get upset about not having my baby, but I am thankful for a husband who never left my side and continues to keep my head up and my faith in God strong. I know God will grant us the desires of our hearts one day but until then, I will keep believing, loving, thanking, and worshipping Him.
I’m so thankful for the opportunity to reach all of you with my story. I know everyone’s story is different. Some have never been divorced, some have never lost a baby…but I’m sure we all know someone who has. I am by far no way perfect. I am human. I mess up but I don’t try to make myself someone I’m not. My story isn’t pretty and I’m not going to portray it that way because I’m afraid of gossip. People are going to talk and that’s ok! Maybe through the gossip, my story will reach someone who needs it!
I’m going to end with a scripture I have at my desk and a little note I wrote under it. I hope it gives someone hope like it does me!
“Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”
-----The God I serve is more than capable to fill my womb and give Sley and I a child if He so desires!