Pain

I’m not sure really how to describe today.

I wasn’t able to sleep last night. Around 6:00 I was willing the clock to move faster so I could make a few phone calls. At 7:00 I called my friend who runs the church prayer chain and asked her to check her email and send out the request so that most people would have received it before church, sparing us from having to retell everything. I left a message for my dear sweet friend C, and I called the Pastor. He was already at church so I woke DH and we headed over there early and spent almost an hour with him. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love our pastor. He brought such comfort and wisdom to us with all the care of a loving father and shepherd. It’s times like these that I’m just so, so grateful for a small church.

As people began to trickle in, we were just overwhelmed with love and support. Most people had received the email, and we were so grateful. So many people just came and hugged us and cried with us, saying hardly a word, if anything at all. It was such a blessing to have the comfort without the need of words and explanations because I don’t think I could have gotten through them. I had a lot of good cries, a lot of good hugs, and some attempt at worship. I was so glad we decided to go. Church was the only place I wanted to be this morning.

Toward the end of service the physical pain of the miscarriage started so I had to excuse myself to walk around. It’s persisted through most of the day. I can’t decide how I feel about it. On the one hand, the discomfort is unpleasant. On the other hand, it’s a bittersweet reminder that the babies really were there. I think I’m grateful for that.

Once we got home, I was able to get some sleep. I think I rested, too, at least for a little while.

We’re going to name the babies. Our pastor also offered to do a little memorial with the two of us if we wanted to. I want to do something, I just don’t know what. I feel like if we don’t, it’s like they didn’t exist or like we’ve forgotten them. I want to fight to legitimize them and their existence here in the eyes of the world. My spirit just can’t rest with the rinse of the drain being the final goodbye. Even though it’s just their earthly bodies that were lost that way, I still feel like it’s the last sentence in their story right now and I’m just not at peace with that. But what saying goodbye looks like, I’m not sure. Miscarriage is such a funny thing. There’s some arbitrary moment in a pregnancy beyond which we commemorate a loss with a memorial service, name and perhaps even a gravestone. But before that point, we’re supposed to say our goodbyes silently, and alone. And yet all those babies are equally precious, human and beloved, so I don’t quite understand the dichotomy. But nor do I know how to navigate it.

My mom is on her way here and I’m glad for that but a little fearful too. It’s hard to communicate with family right now, and even to a certain extent, DH, because the grief they’re feeling overwhelms me and I can’t help but recoil from it. I can barely manage my own grief. To see someone else grieving too for their own loss (of niece/nephew, grandchild, etc) shuts me down. I don’t know what the balance there is but I’d ask for your wisdom as we seek it. I didn’t really speak for more than a minute to anyone except church people this morning until tonight because I just couldn’t handle it. Poor DH had the job of calling our families last night. I was finally able to talk a little bit today. It went ok but the coming days will tell.

As if I weren’t humiliated and broken enough, the ER doctor thinks I have a UTI. I’m almost laughing at the absurdity. Almost.

As I mentioned before, we’re praying that the miscarriage completes itself naturally. I hate that word. There’s nothing natural about this. Natural is the babies being born in to our arms. But just the same, I’d really really love to avoid surgery. I think it would send me over the edge to have to have the same procedure that other women go through voluntarily to terminate their pregnancies. I have an appointment with my clinic on Tuesday and they said we should know by then which way things are going to go. We’d appreciate your prayers for that. In that sense, I’ve been glad for the pain and continued bleeding because I can’t help but think it gets us one step closer to a “natural” completion. But, time will tell.

My best friend comforted me with the thought that we gave these babies the gift of delivering them to Jesus. Before they were stuck in limbo, and we gave them a chance at both life and/or Homecoming. I AM comforted by that (thank you, sweet friend! I love you!) but I can’t help be selfish and wish they’d had longer life here first. I guess I don’t mind being their (and His) “delivery method” (and I am comforted by the knowledge that they are now eternally safe) but I do confess that I would have liked to have met them first.

I’m trying to busy myself around the house. The night time is the worst because it’s so quiet and there are no distractions–just plenty of time to think and wonder and miss. I guess I’m off to find some project to do.

Love to you all…