It’s 4 am and my pillow is stained with tears. I can’t stand laying there in anguish any longer. Sleep isn’t happening and I thought I’d have a bowl of cereal, but I can’t call it pregnancy insomnia or pregnancy cravings anymore.
I learned yesterday that our baby no longer had a heartbeat.
As I sit here and try to process what’s happened, I don’t know that I even have adequate words for what I’m feeling. I keep getting told that I need to share our story, but I don’t want this to be my story!! It wasn’t supposed to go like this. How ironic that this would happen on the last day of October, pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. Such a cruel freaking joke.
I’d moved on. I’d accepted we couldn’t get pregnant, and that was so much easier to deal with than this. I simply cannot understand why God would give us hope, this miracle, only to take it away. My finite, human understanding is so limited, and I’ll never see the bigger picture of what God is doing until I reach heaven and see Him face to face. In my heart I’m crying out for God to show me His goodness and the truth of His character. It’s so easy to say we’ll trust Him and believe what His words says about Him when we aren’t faced with such devastating circumstances. Pray for my heart to not grow bitter.
I don’t know how to go through each week without thinking about how many weeks I’d have been. I don’t know how to face life when my birthday rolls around, my due date. And even though I know so many women before me have gone through this, it doesn’t really bring me comfort. There’s no answers to why this happened, and that’s the hardest. As with facing unexplained infertility, I wished so badly for an answer, for a step by step of here’s what’s wrong and here’s how to fix it, but again there’s no answers.
October was the most joy-filled, overwhelmingly amazing month I’ve had in some time. This child changed my life in indescribable ways in only 4 weeks, and the anguish I feel over losing her is equally indescribable. Josiah was 100% convinced it was a girl, and when I imagine her in heaven, I see her laughing the same big belly laugh that Josiah has, with wispy, straight dirty blonde hair blowing in the breeze. And it hurts so bad to never know her this side of heaven.
So I’ll see you later, little one. I can’t wait to hear your laughter and kiss your face.