Excerpts of our Story, Part 2 Friday, October 9, 2009

More from my writing records following our third miscarriage:

When my doctor finally stopped talking, she left the room to give us private time to talk.  As soon as the door closed behind the doctor I wept.  Jeff and I were tucked in our own personal grief in the room and we cried unashamedly.  We didn’t even have words to say to each other.  I think we managed a few, but nothing spoke our heart’s condition other than the tears.  I immediately started thinking if there might be a “back way” out of the office.  Would I really have to walk past all the mothers in the waiting room with their full term bellies?  Would I have to hold my tears in for even five minutes as I paid my doctor visit co-pay and sign out?  How could I hold them in?

Even as I write this memory almost exactly one year after this child’s conception, I weep.  That child was precious to our hearts.  We wanted this child.  We wanted him/her so badly.  We were not drug addicts throwing away our pregnancy or child.  We were not boyfriend/girlfriend playing around causing an unexpected pregnancy.  We had prayed for this child.  We WANTED him/her.  Yet, it was out of the grasp of our hands.

Our drive home was full of tears.  We entered our home full of tears.  We kept on asking God, “Why?”  We just did not understand.  It was too great to fit in our human minds why God would have ever allowed this to happen.  I called our Pastor and told him about our loss and he had kind words – all of which I don’t recall.  He gave me all the time off I wanted from work and prayed with us.  We sat in our home office for hours just looking at each other through tears asking “Why?”  It was all we could do.  There was nothing more to ask.  That was the ONLY question.

That same day I drafted a letter to the friends that knew we were expecting.  I wanted to be the FIRST to tell of the news before folks started coming to us asking questions.  We had our own questions at the time and could barely handle the thought of someone approaching us with a question.  It read:

Dear Friend,

Jeff and I wanted to send you an update as we had our 11.5 week ultrasound yesterday.

Much to our shock and grief, we lost this baby.  Though I have had no symptoms of miscarriage, we discovered in our ultrasound that I had miscarried several weeks ago and my body simply has not completed the natural cycle of miscarriage yet.

We are obviously extremely sad and shocked at this time…We really thought this was our miracle coming in June.

We know that God’s thoughts are higher than ours and we totally trust and depend on him (though that does not take away the pain of this time).

Should you call us, please understand if we don’t pick up as it is hard for us to talk at this time…  Should you leave a voicemail or email, please know that it is received with gratefulness even if not responded to at this time.

We told you of the pregnancy because you are a special friend to us and because our joy was too much to hold in.  We do not regret having told a small group of people in the church of our joy.  I know that as a body of Christ we have joy together and sadness together – and we are so grateful for your friendship and support.  Simply put, we appreciate your prayers whether in joy or sadness.

In closing, I don’t want you to feel that I am writing you “depressing” news, though it holds our deepest sadness.  Jesus has saved us, filled us with the Holy Spirit, and deserves praise AT ALL TIMES, even in our times of grief.  Please know that we are singing our song of praise – possibly out of choice at this time – but soon our hearts will be healed in the presence of our Savior.

Much Love,

Jeff and Dana

As I re-read my letter to friends, it brings so many memories back.  We were trying to be brave.  As much as we could.  We did, in fact, KNOW these things to be true that I so bravely wrote about.  But I also knew that there was a journey of grief and unanswered questions in the midst of it.

The day after we heard official word of our loss, it was Thanksgiving.  How odd to know that family knew of our loss but no one mentioned anything.  We all tried to act like normal and to be honest, most of me was utterly grateful that no one mentioned anything.  They would have needed a bucket to catch my tears.  I just remember acting joyful and participating in conversation while more aware of my internal pain.  I was looking at the corner where our highchair would have been next year.  I might have been just at the point to feed mashed sweet potatoes to our son/daughter.  Or I would look down at my stomach, still clothed with my maternity sweater, and think he/she is not there.  I had gotten quickly used to a baby being in my stomach, though unfelt or unseen.

Following Thanksgiving, I would sit at my keyboard playing music and singing a song of praise, though my numb heart could not truly praise those days.  It was a choice and not yet from the inner parts of my soul as I had so often worshipped.  I would cry as I sang the songs that seemed so contradictory:  “Great is Thy Faithfulness” or “It is Well With My Soul”.  And I would cry some more.  It seemed it was all I could do.  I told God that I was choosing to praise Him.  I knew He deserved all praise, but right now there was nothing left in me to praise Him with of myself.  It was simply a choice.

I came to a point where the waters had come over my head.  I started as a child building my sand castle of dreams that had knocked over with the coming tide.  Then, as the tide continued to rise, my dream castles were oozing through my toes as the water reached my knees.  Now, the water was over my head.  I could only see the waters of disappointment around me.  Where had my castles gone?  I could not even touch them with my toes as I swirled in the water.

And it was if God was shouting to my soul, “Now swim!  Swim, Dana!”  But I could not hear that call yet.  I was still drowning in my grief.   But, dare I say, I was not about to die.  For I would soon hear that voice gradually as though coming out of a dream that I had embraced.  I had embraced this dream of having children and God was waking me out of my dream.  “Now swim!  Swim, Dana!”  He was saying to me:  Not your will, Dana, but Mine be done.  Swim in the waters of your destiny.  They were not made the fight with, but to swim in.  You were made to swim in these waters with My strength and My strength alone.  And guess what, you were not meant to swim blindly because I protect you, I cover you, and I direct you.  You may not know even your next step, but I am with you always even unto the end.  I am your Rock and Salvation.  I am the Rock that is higher than you.  Oh, Dana, I am grand in my splendor and there is no unused pain in your life. You will rise above this tide and become MORE than a conqueror through Me who gives you strength.  He was shouting to my soul:  VICTOR!  YOU SHALL BE A VICTOR!!!  YOU SHALL RISE ABOVE!  YOU HAVE PURPOSE!  Now sing My praise for great is He who goes before you and makes your paths straight.  Who sees your every concern and gently guides you.  Do not be afraid for I AM WITH YOU.”  These words came to my soul and I responded, “Yes, Lord.  Yes, Lord!”  And through my tears, I say, “Thank You.  Thank You, Lord.

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3 Responses to Excerpts of our Story, Part 2 Friday, October 9, 2009

  1. acacia
    As I read your blog I am speechless, I am astounded and amazed by your faith and trust in God even when things didn’t make sense and seemed like your world was crashing in around you. I am so excited for you and Jeff and the painted dresser you will be awesome foster parents and those kids lives will be forever changed because of your love and showing them God’s love in you.

    I can’t relate to your experience nor would I ever even try to fathom the loss of a child, but I can relate to the pain and the emotional side of healing…..I often wonder why God places us in situations or why we must go through what we do, but then I remember for your glory God and remember to trust in him. I am so encouraged to read your blog and although my pain is different I can relate on some level with what your saying. I can’t wait to see what God is going to do through Painted Dresser and you and Jeff. I am getting excited even thinking about it!! Blessings……
    Friday, October 9, 2009 – 10:47 PM

  2. Rebekah
    Although I’ve never experienced your exact pain, I know the pain of an empty womb. Last night, Ben and I were driving home from a trip and I was sitting in the back with Ty watching him sleep. This amazing song by Seabird was playing – “Sing ’til your heart hurts….and then sing some more. Never stop singing.” I thought back on all the times my heart was just bleeding from heartache and then I looked at the precious gift sitting beside me. In that moment, I told Ben, “I wouldn’t change a thing.” God has taken me through so many levels of him through this journey. It is very difficult to get to the place of trusting him with our future -especially when it comes down to our desires for motherhood. But, WOW. How wonderfully amazing the path of adoption is. Difficult – absolutely! But well, well worth it.

    Tyrus is the song of my heart. I am in awe of God’s goodness every time I stare into his deep chocolate eyes.

    God’s plan for your family will astound you! I love the idea of painting a dresser – so cool! I’ll be following along your journey with you! I’m especially interested in hearing more on the foster side – we’d like to do that next!
    Monday, October 12, 2009 – 08:59 AM

  3. Pingback: Highlights from Beginning of Foster Parenting Journey to mid 2012 | The Painted Dresser

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