15/31 
Sitting in that waiting room was perhaps the longest wait of my life. We were brand new in town and newly pregnant with our 2nd child. Well, we had been pregnant with our 2nd child. By the time I could get an available appointment as a new patient, I was quite certain we had lost the baby. This day was to confirm what I already knew in my heart.
20 minutes after checking in, a nurse called me aside to discuss the results of my test. Except it really wasn’t to the side at all, we were just off from the waiting room and her loud voice could surely be heard by just about everyone sitting nearby. She tossed her blonde hair over the shoulder of her scrubs and looked down at my chart,
“umm. just one thing.– you aren’t pregnant.” she said and looked up at me with this *brand new information.*
“Yes. I know I’m not. I’ve just had a miscarriage.” I said as quietly as possible. (This was my CHILD we were talking about so casually.)
“Uh, No hon. You’ve got a UTI. There were red-blood cells in your test.” She continued flippantly.
“No. I was pregnant and I’ve had a miscarriage. I do not have a UTI.” I said flatly and looked across the room at Lance who saw the need to rescue me and began to get up.
“Ok.” she said, “Well, either way– the Dr will see you when it’s your turn.” She gave me a false sympathetic glance and turned and walked away. I walked over and found the couch beneath me just before my legs gave out.
My sweet guy comforted me and we both rolled our eyes at the uncouth-ness of such a person. And then we had to wait again for a whole hour.
During which I nervously flipped through an old Good Housekeeping Magazine and tried to read an article about spring-cleaning your closet. The glossy, scented pages did nothing to distract me from the shouting thoughts in my head.
“Did I get it wrong? Was the test a false-positive? What about the 2nd test? The 3rd test? All false positives?”
I sat there in my grief which now had the added pressure of utter foolishness added on top.
“But wait? I KNOW I was pregnant. I had symptoms. I felt the loss when it happened?!!!”
By the time I entered the exam room of the kind man who would deliver our Abigail, I was in tears.
I told him what happened with the nurse and he frowned for a long time.
I told him I knew I had lost the baby– and frantically asked him to just please confirm that I had been pregnant. Just tell me the life WAS there. Please.
I had already dealt with losing a baby to miscarriage. I could not handle being told he or she was never there in the first place.
He did. He told me I had lost the baby right around when I thought and that my body was already beginning to heal.
He was kind and apologetic and told me I could try again.
And my smile through the tears came without warning.
Because it’s very difficult to celebrate life (even ever so brief) if we never acknowledge its’ presence.
Four years later, my heart is full to bursting with the love of two little girls– both given to us as gifts. But I still remember. I can’t not remember. I have to remember. Every now and then. Life is still life, no matter how short.
And we do the sanctity of life a huge disservice when we try to be BRAVE and gloss over and pretend we FOCUS on what we DO have all the time— and not ever really, truly– REMEMBER.
Because that child of ours– he exists. In heaven, with the One whose image he reflects. And he already knows things about my God that I have yet to see with my own eyes. And I will not forget. I will remember with absolute Joy and celebration– but I will not forget.
What brave, honest writing! Life truly is worth celebrating, no matter how brief nor how painful the loss. Just imagine that day when you will meet this precious little one in heaven! And you’ll be celebrating all over again!
Thank you Jen. And thanks for the virtual twitter hug– I’ll take it! Thanks for celebrating life with me today.
What brave, honest writing! Life truly is worth celebrating, no matter how brief nor how painful the loss. Just imagine that day when you will meet this precious little one in heaven! And you’ll be celebrating all over again!
Thank you Jen. And thanks for the virtual twitter hug– I’ll take it! Thanks for celebrating life with me today.
Beautiful. Thank you, Cindy.
Beautiful. Thank you, Cindy.
Thank you for letting us into this story, into the life of your little one. I’m so sorry about how you were treated. Taking a moment right now to honor your baby’s life.
Thank you Katie. It helps to honor these little lives. Glad you stopped by.
Thank you for letting us into this story, into the life of your little one. I’m so sorry about how you were treated. Taking a moment right now to honor your baby’s life.
Thank you Katie. It helps to honor these little lives. Glad you stopped by.
Words fail me except to say that your precious baby is remembered right now. And what joy to know he is with the Heavenly Father even now- perfected and glorifying Him.
I admire your bravery and honesty with sharing this personal story. Praying that you will be encouraged through this telling of your heart.
Thank you dear sweet best friend. Glad and that we know and love each other’s children personally and as our own babies. <3
Words fail me except to say that your precious baby is remembered right now. And what joy to know he is with the Heavenly Father even now- perfected and glorifying Him.
I admire your bravery and honesty with sharing this personal story. Praying that you will be encouraged through this telling of your heart.
Thank you dear sweet best friend. Glad and that we know and love each other’s children personally and as our own babies. <3
The was beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you Caitlin. <3
The was beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you Caitlin. <3
Oh, that nurse should *not* be working in that position! How utterly insensitive! I can’t imagine .. And I’m so very sorry for your loss. I so appreciate your wisdom and the challenge to *remember* and not gloss over these profound experiences under the pretense of being brave. I pray that this glimpse into your story might bring hope and healing to many ..
Thank you sweet friend.That is certainly my prayer. Carrying the burden altogether– we all recognize it’s sudden lightness.
Oh, that nurse should *not* be working in that position! How utterly insensitive! I can’t imagine .. And I’m so very sorry for your loss. I so appreciate your wisdom and the challenge to *remember* and not gloss over these profound experiences under the pretense of being brave. I pray that this glimpse into your story might bring hope and healing to many ..
Thank you sweet friend.That is certainly my prayer. Carrying the burden altogether– we all recognize it’s sudden lightness.
Kate left me a comment on my last post with a link here and you’re so right. It needs to be remembered and I didn’t allow myself to do that when I lost our baby. I didn’t want to dwell there in the pain but I needed to grieve to heal. I’m so glad you advocated for yourself, I’m glad you had a kind doctor and that you have a beautiful family even if it’s incomplete this side of heaven. I’m glad you remember.
I think sometimes, at least it was true for me– we see so much hurting around us– parents that lose children at 6 months, or 6 years– that its tough to allow ourselves the space somewhat alongside them to grieve the 6 week’s new baby in a lost pregnancy. I wish the Church as a whole knew more how to deal delicately with this kind of grief. But I believe it’s God providing for us all a little bit when He allows us to find comfort in each other’s similar heartache. But I’m with you. I took me several years to feel like I had license to grieve. Thanks for stopping by, Alia. Hope to be able to see you next week at Allume. <3
Kate left me a comment on my last post with a link here and you’re so right. It needs to be remembered and I didn’t allow myself to do that when I lost our baby. I didn’t want to dwell there in the pain but I needed to grieve to heal. I’m so glad you advocated for yourself, I’m glad you had a kind doctor and that you have a beautiful family even if it’s incomplete this side of heaven. I’m glad you remember.
I think sometimes, at least it was true for me– we see so much hurting around us– parents that lose children at 6 months, or 6 years– that its tough to allow ourselves the space somewhat alongside them to grieve the 6 week’s new baby in a lost pregnancy. I wish the Church as a whole knew more how to deal delicately with this kind of grief. But I believe it’s God providing for us all a little bit when He allows us to find comfort in each other’s similar heartache. But I’m with you. I took me several years to feel like I had license to grieve. Thanks for stopping by, Alia. Hope to be able to see you next week at Allume. <3