One in a Million

1 in 4.

I never thought I would be one of the “1s” in that statistic.

I’ve always taken pride in caring for my body as a temple. In high school, I would go to the creamery and everyone would get avalanches, but I would get the fruit smoothie. In college I would wake up at 4-5am every day to work out for 2 hours and never missed a day, even on Christmas break.

When I found out I was pregnant, I took the best prenatals, I kept with my moderate activity, I didn’t eat deli meat, I drank more water… but this time, my body “failed me.”

1 in 4 pregnancies end in a miscarriage.

March 16th was such a special day. I was home alone and I took a pregnancy test. For some reason, I had no doubt in my mind it would be positive.  When it came back with the two little lines, I wanted to tell EVERYONE. But I had a whole Pinterest board designed for how I was going to share the news.

I kept this secret to myself for FOUR DAYS. I needed to get some onesies made which I had to lie to my sister about so she wouldn’t suspect anything. But March 20th rolled around and I FINALLY got to tell Graham the news. I’ll never forget that day. The look on his face, the happy tears we shared. It was the start of a perfect little story for our babe.

It was my birthday weekend so we were going out of town, we spent the whole trip planning. The timing fell PERFECT in MY timeline. We could tell our families at Easter, the public on Mother’s Day, find out the gender right before July 4th, and be due the week before thanksgiving so I would be on maternity leave over the holidays.

Everything I ever wanted was coming true. We just bought a house. We had the nursery all picked out and I started a Pinterest board for how we would decorate. Graham kept referring to babe as “she” but I was certain we would have a boy. Back when dad was in the hospital, the night he went on the vent- I had a dream of him and our little boy playing in the backyard together. He was teaching him how to throw a ball. Dad would finally have a little boy to play ball with.

A few weeks roll by and we got all the shirts I ordered in. I was 8 weeks at the time. It was fun just being our little secret, but I was so ready to not have to hide my sickness and fatigue anymore. Our families reactions were priceless. I watched the videos over and over again because my heart was just exploding. This was going to be the first grandbaby on both sides and the first great grandbaby on two of our sides.

Now we got to share our excitement. My sisters would send me pictures of pregnancy announcements, maternity clothes, baby outfits all day every day. We had everything planned out, they would come stay with us over their Christmas break to help with the baby. We would have the cutest little blessing to share the holidays with this year. Timing was perfect.

Until God said, not yet. It’s not MY timing.

April 14th came, a day I was both anxious and excited for. I’m a worst case scenario thinker… so I told mom and Graham repetitively that it didn’t feel real until we had an ultrasound. Because what if they couldn’t find a heartbeat? I kept saying that, but I don’t think I believed that. Two weeks prior I expressed my anxieties to my OB and she said “1 in 4 pregnancies do end in miscarriage, but you are so healthy I have no reason to believe that will be your experience.”

So we went in for the ultrasound. She found the yolk sack and the ovum, but no heartbeat. She said “well it looks earlier that expected, are you sure on your timeline.” We were positive. I, of course, had it all documented from my last cycle to the day I ovulated. Our timeline had no room for error.

So we went for our appointment with the OB after the ultrasound. I sat in a daze, trying to hold it together and process all at the same time. Usually the NP sees you until near the end of the pregnancy, but my actual OB came in and I knew that wasn’t good. She said the words “So based on your ultrasound, this is not a normal pregnancy. You’re only measuring 6 weeks without a heartbeat and very little development was shown. It could just be earlier gestation than thought, but with your certainty in the timeline, we are most likely looking at a miscarriage that you haven’t had symptoms for yet.” They scheduled me to come back in a week for a repeat ultrasound to see if any development happened. And if not, then we would need to discuss what needed to happen if I hadn’t miscarried naturally.

I think she could see the blank stare in my eyes. She then proceeded to say, I know you’re going to go through the stages of grief and you’re going to blame yourself. But I need you to know that there is not one thing that you could or couldn’t have done that would have made the outcome any different. 1 in 4 pregnancies end in a miscarriage and that is to no fault of the mothers.

We walked out of the office, sat in the car in silence. And I just lost it. ALL the thoughts rushed through my head.

My body failed me.

My family is going to be devastated.

My best friend was only 8 weeks ahead of me, we were going to have bestie babes.

I was supposed to walk out of here and send pictures of our ultrasound to the fam.

We were going to have the best weekend telling our big families about the baby at Easter.

I was grieving “what should have been.” Then we turned the radio on as we drove around and the song God Turn it Around came on. That was the first song that was sent to me the morning after dad was put on ECMO. We played it non stop back and forth to the hospital. I was taken back to the brokenness of that moment. I remember being in the stage of bargaining with God, something I never should have done. But I remember vividly thinking that having a miscarriage or loss of a pregnancy would be way less painful than losing my dad.

I feel disgusting saying that. But it was my honest truth in that moment. I thought the wilderness of losing a pregnancy would be better than watching my dad suffer.

Boy was I wrong. The pain and the grief are equally as devastating in different ways. You really never know the love of a mother until you experience it, even unborn. I couldn’t express my love for this little babe even if I tried.

As I continued to process the news, I came to a crossroads. A battle of my heart and mind. My mind knew based on science and the pictures that the pregnancy was over. My worst case scenario side just wanted to believe it was over so I didn’t have to live the heartbreak all over again the next week.

My heart knew, though, I couldn’t limit God. I didn’t want to put God in a box. He defies science, machines, and even the smartest of doctors. I felt unworthy of receiving 2 miracles in such a short time. But I knew I had to pray, EXPECTING God to move. 

It was Easter weekend and I was left to reflect on a picture I saw. Creation happened in 7 days. Jesus arrival in Jerusulem, betrayal, death, and resurrection all happened in 7 days. I knew a lot could happen in 7 days.

But either way, I wanted to remember and believe whole heartedly that whatever the outcome, God was still good. Always.

The next day I went to work. It was good to be out and keep my mind off of things. I felt content most of the day but then I crashed when I got home. My logic started to take over and I just felt like I knew there was no way this turned out good.

I went through the grief of the what ifs.

Would our babe been a girl or a boy?

Would they have had my brown eyes or Grahams green eyes?

Would they have dark hair or be a surprise blonde?

What would their personality be like?

What would be their favorite toy?

It hit me all at once that I would never get to know my baby. I would never get to hold them, cuddle them, protect them, love on them. All I knew is that God had a new precious little Angel he was holding in His arms.

Then I went through the stages of jealousy vs gratefulness.

I am so grateful that I was able to get pregnant on my own. I know people near and dear to me who had way more difficulty.

But then I would scroll through Facebook and see baby after baby. Why was it so easy for them to get pregnant? How did they not go through this?  I had to give up social media for awhile because everything I saw made my heart sad, angry, mourn what it wasn’t my time to have yet.

I guess if you’re picking which is “better,” I’m grateful that mine was such an early stage loss. There’s a whole new slew of emotions that comes with delivery followed by loss. Getting to hold that sweet babe and say goodbye. My heart cannot imagine what those mamas go through.

The next week we went back to our repeat ultrasound. I felt like I had done pretty well at processing through the week and got to a place of peace in whatever the outcome. But when we were driving there, I felt a flood rush over me. I was triggered from the trauma of just one week ago. I felt a deja vu walking into that ultrasound room. I wanted to expect to hear a heartbeat but within 2 seconds, I knew we wouldn’t.

The only change that was present was the sack was shrinking, indicative of my body preparing to miscarry.

So my OB came in and God bless her soul, was so kind. She gave us all the options we had, pros and cons. And just sat with us as we grieved the news.

I ended up having a d&c. She said my body hadn’t started showing internal signs of breakdown for a natural miscarriage and could be another 3-4 weeks of waiting around to see if it would happen. With the medication, there was a lot of pain and bleeding involved but still a 30% change I would still need the d&c after to clear the remainder of the tissue in the uterus.

God knew my planner heart needed to know a date and be in a controlled environment. For my mental sanity, I could not go through 4 more weeks of waiting on the unknown and 2 months “until all said and done.” I needed this done now so I could grieve and somehow find the strength to move on.

They did the d&c the very next day. It all moved very quickly. My mind spent the 24 hours after the appointment focused on insurance authorization, how we would ever afford this, how it would affect our house loan- but very little on what would actually be happening (avoidance is how I like to deal with things.)

The night after the d&c, I laid in bed the whole night mourning the loss of this sweet baby. This was never supposed to be my story. I was never supposed to have to tell my (hopefully) future kids they had another brother or sister.

As I was grieving, figuring out how I move on from here, a friend sent me a post from Risen Motherhood that said:

“ A baby won’t ultimately satisfy my soul. Only God can do that.

While grieving has a place in our lives, and it’s right and good to grieve a dream deferred or an unfulfilled desire, we shouldn’t place our hope in good gifts.

Children aren’t a guaranteed right from the Lord. Motherhood isn’t a promise from God that we can cling to. That’s a hard truth to grapple with, but when we’re met with unfulfilled desires, we can use it as a chance to press into the promises of God. God often doesn’t give us answers, he gives us himself.

On my hardest days, one of the most precious promises I cling to is the fact that Jesus promises never to leave or forsake me”

I share all of this because it’s my way of processing. It helps me cope, to work through my emotions… instead of avoiding it. I never expected this blog to be a source of healing for me- but over and over, God has used it to do just that.

And I want all of those mamas who have experienced loss, in all different ways- to know that it’s okay.

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to mourn what could have been. It’s okay to be jealous, angry, distraught. But don’t sit there too long. What I am learning is that God understands the grief and he’s there holding you through it. But if you sit in the grief too long, the enemy will start to creep in. He will make you question God’s goodness and fill you with lies. Instead, press into the promises of God. He will never leave or forsake you.

I experienced the wilderness 6 months ago with my dad and God performed a bigger miracle than we could even comprehend. Based on their timeline, he should just be getting out of rehab, in the off chance he survived. He only made us wait 16 days until He delivered him back to us in full health.

I’m in a wilderness season once again, but this time- God wants to keep me here a little longer. And that’s okay. He gave us a “not yet,” but not a “never” and for that I’m so deeply grateful.

I pray one day we see they “why.” Why we needed to go through this. Why Gods timing is always better. But if not, we trust that it’s used to further the kingdom how He’s planned.

And through it all, I just have to continually remind myself: Even then, God is still good.