11 June 2011


i mentioned a few posts back that we've got some heavy-ish things going on right now. i suppose that today is as good a day as ever to start more outwardly processing through what's happening. first, i'll share this post that i wrote about a month ago to be pulished a few weeks later:  

"i'm writing this post the day it happened, but you won't be seeing it for another three weeks.. i just don't want to forget what a hard week this started out as and what a good one it has become. by the time y'all are reading this you'll already know that d and i are expecting baby dos, and as excited (and, honestly, shocked) as we were when we found out about baby on april 27th, i've felt much much different this time around than i did with ruby. when i think back to that positive pregnancy test day, i feel like the worries that crept up stand out more to me than anything else. i just couldn't shake the feeling, and the monday after we confirmed the news was the first time i noticed a little blood when i went to the bathroom. my heart sunk, but at the same time i thought, "of course" and sadly, at that moment, assumed that all of my aforementioned worries were coming true. so. sad. how easily defeated, right? and, when the same thing happened that tuesday through friday, i had myself completely convinced walking in to see the midwife with daniel on friday afternoon that they were going to tell us that our seven week-ish old baby had died. i explained what had been going on to lucie (the midwife), and nodded while she assured me that what was happening was normal and that we would take a look inside and see how things were going.. all the while bracing myself for what i knew was going to come. but then i saw it.. the little (i mean, teeny tiny) blip on the screen. the heartbeat. the heartbeat that she said she was surprised we could even see because our baby was only five weeks old. five weeks. which explained everything. the bit of bleeding, the lack of strong pregnancy symptoms. all of it. and in the midst of a time in my life when i've been feeling like i have to fight to feel the presence of God, i knew He cared about me and that He was there. that He knew that i need to see that heartbeat to calm my worried heart, and i wept." 

obviously, you all haven't read that post before now. the reason for that is that we found out about three weeks later that our baby's teeny tiny heartbeat had stopped sometime between our two appointments, and that i would need to have a d&c to remove the "fetal tissue" (as they so lovingly called it). even though we lost our baby, i still wanted to share this post because the joy that we felt that day isn't any less important. i still believe that the Lord sustained us during that time, and that He is doing the same thing while we are on the opposite side of joy. 
on some level, it feels a little strange for me to even be sharing about the miscarriage since it's technically "over", but a lot of the time it doesn't feel like it is. i was telling my friend kalle not long ago that the hardest thing about dealing with this kind of loss (or any loss at all, i'm sure) is that even though you feel "okay" at times, you never know when the sadness from it will come washing over you again. you never know when some completely unrelated situation will bring emotions that overtake and consume you, making you feel, in some ways, completely irrational and confused by your own thoughts and feelings. i had one such instance last night, and told daniel that there are times when i just wish i didn't feel because it would be easier that way.. i wouldn't feel like such a "basket case". of course, this isn't really what i want, i love having feelings, but there are definitely times when they get the best of me. 
a loss like this is also hard because your logical self knows how common it is and that it is in no way the worst kind of tragedy you can go through in the realm of parenthood.. but that doesn't take away from how attached you feel as a mother to someone you literally never knew. i had a really hard time dealing with the very strange things that my hormonal mind thought of in terms of our baby.. the thoughts of it being inside me not alive, wondering how many people i joyfully told that i was pregnant with our baby while, in fact, it had died, being curious and sad about how they "disposed" of it after the d&c procedure. i hated where my mind would go, but i couldn't stop it. it was also difficult knowing that there really wasn't any way that daniel could completely relate to or understand my sadness-- it's just reality that things like this do not affect fathers in the same way that they do mothers. i would sometimes feel bad breaking down again and again, having him hold and console me, all the while knowing that he couldn't even touch emotions that were completely overtaking me. of course, he was supportive and hurting because i was, but my mind went there anyway. 
on the much brighter side, we were and still are extremely grateful for the compassion, sympathy, empathy, generosity, and love that we've gotten from so many around us. there's definite comfort in the midst of trial knowing that someone else can specifically relate to and be sad with you because they have be there. we felt completely surrounded and cared for by our loved ones, and despite any lack of complete understanding, there is a great deal of strength and solidification that comes in a marriage from something so hard (if you allow it). i think, when you hurt together, you love harder. and i'm thankful for those things in the midst of this.

there's another pretty big transition coming up for us as well, but i need to talk to d and make sure when we're going to share it on a larger scale. apart from wanting to share about the miscarriage as a way of remembrance over time for us on our blog, i also wanted to give some insight for others into something "common" but also very difficult for the women and families who go through it. i am so thankful that the reactions and words from our friends and family were never the stereotypical "unhelpful" things that you hear about, but i know that's not always the case for people who go through what we have (and much harder things). after experiencing this hard time, i would say that the most helpful and comforting thing to hear was often, "i really don't know what to say, but we are sad with and praying for you." it's amazing how something so simple can be just what you need to hear.

 thanking Him (and many of you) for a mending heart.


Anonymous said...

your strength and hope inspires me. I feel lucky to know such an honest, beautiful, and insightful woman. French people say "Courage" when they want someone to keep up their courage and keep moving forward. So, Courage, dear friend. Courage.


joye said...

as hard as it was to write this out (i'm sure), kudos to you for doing so .. for your own processing and to be someone who others can come to, when you're ready for that. i thank God that your interactions with others have been kind and tender, and i pray you'll continue to find healing through the words of others, as well as what we know about the nature of our God.

Kara @ Just1Step said...

I am so so sorry Alinna. Such a painful thing to go through. I hope that you are finding comfort in friends and family around you and also of course from God. Will keep you and D in my prayers. :)

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