The Story of Grace
(If you are sensitive to reading personal accounts of pregnancy loss, then I suggest skipping this one).
It was around Mother's Day 2006. I had just found out that I was 2 weeks pregnant- in the midst of a 3 month long quest of me seeing doctors and trying to get them figure out what was had suddenly gone wrong with my neurological system. My husband and I
had been
so-so trying for another child since our son was a year old, but honestly becoming pregnant was the last thing on my mind since my body freaked out on me in February.
Of course I was excited to find out I was pregnant! But the timing was just...well, it was JUST..
I was already having trouble physically doing the things I needed to do.
I remember thinking to myself, "God must have a twisted sense of humor, but He knows what He's doing..So I will trust Him. He must think I am a much stronger person than I am, but everything will be ok."
Anyway, here I was dealing with my new mystery illness and mentally preparing myself for a pregnancy in the midst of it -after 5 years of trying when I didn't have problems before. I thought maybe the pregnancy could have been causing some of my physical problems too, so I was keeping a positive attitude and hoping for the best.
One night when I was about 4-5 weeks along, I had a dream about one of my neice's on my husband's side of the family. She lived next door to me when I was growing up, and we were pretty close as kids. But I hadn't spoken to in in years.
In my dream we were both pushing old-fashioned baby buggies. We pushed them down a long winding road, and then down a snowy wooded path. Shortly after we got into the woods, I stopped on a hill with my baby buggy, but she kept on going with hers -leaving me standing there alone. I called out to her, but she didn't answer me.
Now back to REAL LIFE:
A few days after I had that dream, my mother-in-law informed me that my niece was pregnant too. She also told me that we had the same due date in February! BUT my neice was having a lot of complications and her hormone levels were not where they should have been. They weren't getting their hopes up with this pregnancy.
I immediately thought of my dream. This was the second time I had a
dream where the circumstances were playing out in front of my very eyes. I took it as a sign to pray for my neice and her baby- that must have been what the dream meant by her leaving me! So I prayed for her and her baby every time I thought of her.
Well, as time went one she was doing much better. I, on the otherhand, was getting sicker and sicker as time passed on. Yet, my doctors would not take me serious about how
extremely bad I felt all.the.time. My first pregnancy was perfect- except for the occasional episode of feeling hypoglycemic, and the fact that my hands were numb the entire second half. My doctors would tell me things like - "Oh, you're just pregnant. Every pregnancy is different. Blah, Blah, Blah.."
(Quit being a whiny baby)
I was eating. I was not really nauseaous, but I was constantly wretching and dry heaving- even when I knew there was food in my stomach. All.day.long. I was coughing up foam. I constantly felt like I had to burp, but couldn't. I felt like my stomach contents were being pushed in the wrong direction. My heart would begin racing and I could feel it flip-flopping in my chest everytime I ate or tried to throw-up. I was so weak most of the time I could do absolutely nothing. I couldn't stand up because I was woozy. I could not lay in my bed except for a certain way- On my side propped up with pillows. It was the only way that my heart wouldn't race and it prevented whatever it was that caused me to start wretching.
I could feel myself physically dying a little more the larger my belly grew. The baby that I wanted so much and for so long, was literally sucking the life out of me and there was nothing I could do about it. No one could see what this pregnancy was doing to me but my family. And no one would help me- not even God! I cried out to God every single day for mercy for weeks on end. I was trying to take care of the precious son I already had, and I didn't know what to do. I let God know that this was not fair! Until the beginning of that year, I had led a blessed life and I had been grateful for it. Why was He letting all of this happen to me? I felt like Job.
One day, when when I was about 16 weeks, I was at my weakest point. My Mom was coming over everyday to cook for me and to get my son off the bus and get him to do his homework.
After a few days of this, I decided that if I was going to live through this, I would have to get better myself. I mustered up even more determination than I was already using. I WAS going survive this pregnancy and this illness whatever it took! I WAS going to get stronger so I could take care of my unborn child, my son, and myself. I started eating constantly- making sure I had plenty of protein. I started making myself go for a walk everyday, and I stopped bending over because that seemed to help for some reason too. (Nothing about my illness ever made any sense anyway so this was no surprise to me).
After about 2 weeks, I was gaining too much weight, but my strength was coming back. I remember telling my baby during one of my walks that we were going to make it!
Two weeks later, the time came for my 20 week appointment in September - the one where we would get to find out the sex of the baby. My husband had to work that day, so my Mom ended up going with me. I went to the sattellite office close to my house. I remember telling the nurse that I was FINALLY feeling better, and that I felt like I was going to make it.
Then the doctor came in and could not find the baby's heartbeat. My heart sank. She took me to another room to do an ultrasound. The machine was old, and she kept appologizing for not being able to use it very well. She tried for a good 30 minutes to find any sign of life or a heartbeat.
Then she told me she was going to send me to the main office to have the Tech there do an ultrasound with the newer machine and NOT to worry- that it was probably the machine. I didn't know what to think. I was in shock.
My mom drove me there, and they took me back right away to the Ultrasound room. The Tech couldn't find a heartbeat either. She did some measurements and told me that it looked like my baby had stopped developing about two weeks prior.
The same time I had started feeling better! God was playing a cruel joke on me.
I had to wait to see a doctor to discuss my options. This was totally unexpected. I did not want to be having that conversation. I wanted to crawl under a rock. I decided that I would go into the hospital that night to be induced instead of waiting for things to happen naturally. I wanted drugs. Lots of drugs. I wanted something to numb my pain. I wanted this baby out of my body. For some reason, knowing that I had been carrying a my lifeless baby inside of me for two weeks without knowing it was creeping me out.
My husband left work to pick me up from the doctor's office so I could go home and prepare to go to the hospital. He asked me: WHY DID THIS HAPPEN? The only answer I had for him was: What makes us so special that it couldn't happen to us? Things happen.
I spent the next two nights in the hospital being induced. I was on a morphine drip. I don't think I needed it so much for the physical pain as I did for my broken aching heart.
Our tiny little baby finally came out. They sent home later that evening. That was it.
No visitors. No celebration. No flowers. No joy. No baby. People had wanted to visit me in the hospital, but it was not a joyous occasion. I didn't want visitors. It was a private thing between me and my husband.
One of my uncles did come to see me - I couldn't tell him no- bless his heart. And the Pastor from our church stopped in to pray with me. I barely remembered them being there.
We didn't even know the sex of the baby. The nurse told us that we could have them order an autopsy to find out the baby's sex and to see if they could determine what went wrong. They also said that they could have the baby cremated. So that's what we did. I wanted answers, and I needed to have something tangible to take away from this horrible experience. Something to remind me that our baby actually had existed.
Once I was home, I cried for days and days until my tears ran dry. Then I cried some more. Then one night I got drunk. I had quit drinking years ago because I was a Christian. But I was ANGRY at God and I got drunk and told him exactly how I felt and then I drank some more and I told him exactly how I felt some more. I did this until the sun came up. Then I cried some more.
The report came back about a week later. Our little angel was a girl. We had been discussing what we would name the baby when we found out the sex. We decided that if it was a girl we would name her Grace, but we couldn't settle on a name for a boy. Our son who was 6 at the time, asked why we weren't giving the baby a middle name. I didn't really know why we weren't giving her a middle name, but I suddenly thought of a very good reason. I said, "Daddy says that middle names are your "in trouble name". The baby doesn't need one because she won't be getting in any trouble in Heaven."
No one was able to tell us why our baby died, but becasue of that dream I was certain that the outcome had already been determined beforehand. Although I was angry with God, I still loved Him and it gave me comfort to know that He cared enough about me to give me a piece of the puzzle ahead of time- even though I didn't have all the peices until the midst of the storm.
Day by day, and month by month, the heartache let up a little at a time, until my heart didn't ache with every breathe....Until I could think about my little angel without tears welling up in my eyes. Eventually I quit being angry with God too, but that took even longer.
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In Memory of Grace
September 23, 2006
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The next time I had a prophetic dream was in February of this year.
To be continued..
