This post was originally written & posted to social media on Friday, July 29th. I honestly don't have the heart to recreate a new post, but I don't really want to anyway. This time in our lives is dark but we know there's light at the end.
When Scott & I decided to announce my pregnancy, we knew it was incredibly early. We knew that society says you should wait until the second trimester, "just in case." But before we ever decided to try to have a child, we agreed that we wouldn't keep our sweet baby a secret after we found out the good news because no matter how tiny, our child was already our child. It didn't matter that the risk of miscarriage was real or that it would be "hard" to bring devastating news to our family and friends right after rejoicing in the miracle of life that we had created because this sweet baby, no matter how small, was the greatest accomplishment of our lives so far, so why in the world would we keep something so amazing from the people who love us the most?
Two nights ago while Scott was in California for annual training with the guard,the scariest moment of my life unfolded while I as alone at home. Around midnight I started bleeding, heavily, and I knew my sweet baby was in trouble. I got ahold of Scott, thank God, as I drove myself to the ER where I stayed for almost eight hours. My worst fear was confirmed when the doctor couldn't find the baby on the ultrasound. They found the gestational sac (where baby lives) but they couldn't find the yolk sac (baby) inside , and after more blood testing to check my levels, the doctor on call said I had, "lost the pregnancy." With levels so high, the baby should have been easily found, they said. It was likely I miscarried at home and there was nothing they could do. Refusing to confirm the miscarriage 100% because the OB on call couldn't make it to the ER until much later in the day, I was told to visit my doctor as soon as possible for official confirmation so they could make sure I didn't need a D&C. Those words still haunt me.
Two hours later I was sitting in my doctor's office in tears. I felt alone, scared & completely helpless as a mother to this sweet baby that I lost. The doctor offered his condolences after going over my chart, explaining how common a miscarriage is & promising to get through the appointment as fast as he could so I could go home. With the hospital saying I had lost the baby but they couldn't confirm 100% percent, I just wanted closure. I needed to hear it because I was already mourning and the doctor was confident he could give me that much before I left.
The nurse held my hand and explained I'd need another ultrasound and after what seemed like eternity, the doctor told me that he found the yolk sac. He could see this sweet little baby, just a teeny, tiny dot on the screen. You would think I'd have been rejoicing but I just cried harder. I was confused, on the other side of the country from my husband & didn't understand what was going on with my body. Some bleeding was common, he said, but mine was so heavy that he still felt that I had lost this pregnancy, but then, he said, "there's still a chance." There was a still a chance that this bleeding wasn't related to the pregnancy, that it could stop and the baby would keep growing.
Officially diagnosed with a "threatened miscarriage," I was sent home to wait. The doctor, confident that this would end in a complete miscarriage, told me not to get my hopes up. The chances are slim, but "it's possible, you're just too early to tell" he said. And so that's where we are right now. We're waiting for over a week when we go back for another ultrasound to see if they baby grows or if the baby has died.
And so I go back to the beginning of this post. Just as we decided not to wait to tell everyone about this sweet baby, we're deciding not to keep this part of our baby's journey a secret either. At first, we only told three people. Why upset everyone when we just don't know? We hit our knees and went to the Lord with prayers for us and this baby but then we realized the hypocrisy of that. If this baby were already born and going through something so scary, I'd ask for prayers from everyone I could possibly reach. I'd want everyone I knew to be praying for them, pulling for them & for us. And this sweet baby, only 6 weeks in utero, is no different. They need your prayers & so do we.
Scott & I know the odds. We know the chances and we know the statistics, but we also know Jesus. We know that if there's, "still a chance," like my doctor says, that the Lord can work a miracle if it's His will. We know that if we have faith as small as a mustard seed, faith as small as this tiny little life, that we can move mountains. What seems impossible to a doctor or a nurse is so, SO possible with God.
Most of all, Lord, I know that You formed my baby's inward parts; You wove them in my womb. I will give thanks to You, for this baby is fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.…
Thank you for praying with us. We appreciate each one of you so much.