"How very softly you tiptoed into my world. Almost silently, only a moment you stayed. But what an imprint your footprints have left upon my heart."
February 26, 2016 is a date that will always stay in my memory as one of the happiest days I've experienced so far in my life. It was the day I read a positive line on my pregnancy test. We were thrilled. The weeks that followed up until April 21st were filled with happiness, dreaming, planning, joy, unconditional and deep love. We were busy planning lists of baby names, telling friends, family, visiting in home daycares, finding a sub teacher for my maternity leave. Every morning I would wake up with smile on my face and read on my 5 pregnancy apps on my phone what my baby looked like today and how baby was growing on that specific day. I ate food that I thought would help that baby grow for that day. Kaleb and I would lay in bed at night and dream. Dream of what we would teach baby. Dream of how we would talk to baby. Dream of how we would love and discipline baby.
April 21st was quickly approaching and we couldn't wait to see our 10 week old baby on our ultrasound. We went into the doctor's appointment together anxious and excited. I put the cloth on my upper body wrong and Kaleb and I and the nurse laughed about it. (When I'm anxious, I can't think clearly). She rubbed the ultrasound jelly on my stomach. She searched for baby for what seemed like an awfully long time to me for a 10 week old, strawberry-sized baby. She left the room. I turned to Kaleb, "are you okay?" "Yes," he said holding my hand. She came back in. "Looks like baby is 6-7 weeks." Kaleb says, "Ok, that's okay." I said, "I don't think that's good." The nurse said, "no, I don't see a heartbeat." Tears streamed down mine and Kaleb's face. Our precious baby and our dreams and plans were suddenly disappearing.
The days following our appointment were full of emotions. The baby was still inside, but it was not alive. I still had all of my strong pregnancy symptoms. I still was a person of two, with baby inside of my body. I was overwhelmed with love and grace from our families and friends. I felt God's presence unconditionally, through Him and through others. The love of neighbors coming over to give hugs, friends sending flowers, phone calls and voicemails, text messages, friends making meals. I was overwhelmed with God's love. The days were filled with tears and with love.
Then, I miscarried. Not only was it the most physical pain I've ever experienced, it was the most emotional pain I've experienced. A part of me had left and gone to heaven. Someone I deeply loved and cared for was now in heaven and no longer with me. Baby was gone. I was now alone for the first time in 3 months. My body was beginning to go back to normal. I hated it. I was numb. Baby was gone.
The days following I mourned our child. God never felt far away. I didn't feel like opening the Bible, but God consumed me with grace and love. God knew I couldn't force myself to read, but instead He came to me and brought love. He used others, He used Kaleb, He used His very presence. The week before our doctor's appointment, every night that my head hit the pillow I felt God rocking me to sleep. I know this sounds odd, especially because at this point I wasn't nervous, I knew baby was doing fine. But I now believe that this was God preparing me and loving me. When I was about 7 weeks pregnant, I had a strong urge that my Grandma K who is in heaven knew my baby. She was smiling in my vision and intimately KNEW my baby. At that time, I thought she was just showing me that she was happy I was pregnant, but maybe she's looking after baby and welcomed him/her into heaven on that day. God's timing is perfect. God's love is sufficient. Even in our deepest heartbreak, God still knows exactly what He's doing.
There's now no evidence of it, but I'm a mother. I now have a great anticipation of heaven. To se my smiling child. My child who never knew sin, and ONLY knows love. Everywhere I go, I will carry the pain of not knowing my baby's facial features and precious body and personality. But, I get to live in anticipation of someday seeing that sweet child's face.
February 26, 2016 is a date that will always stay in my memory as one of the happiest days I've experienced so far in my life. It was the day I read a positive line on my pregnancy test. We were thrilled. The weeks that followed up until April 21st were filled with happiness, dreaming, planning, joy, unconditional and deep love. We were busy planning lists of baby names, telling friends, family, visiting in home daycares, finding a sub teacher for my maternity leave. Every morning I would wake up with smile on my face and read on my 5 pregnancy apps on my phone what my baby looked like today and how baby was growing on that specific day. I ate food that I thought would help that baby grow for that day. Kaleb and I would lay in bed at night and dream. Dream of what we would teach baby. Dream of how we would talk to baby. Dream of how we would love and discipline baby.
April 21st was quickly approaching and we couldn't wait to see our 10 week old baby on our ultrasound. We went into the doctor's appointment together anxious and excited. I put the cloth on my upper body wrong and Kaleb and I and the nurse laughed about it. (When I'm anxious, I can't think clearly). She rubbed the ultrasound jelly on my stomach. She searched for baby for what seemed like an awfully long time to me for a 10 week old, strawberry-sized baby. She left the room. I turned to Kaleb, "are you okay?" "Yes," he said holding my hand. She came back in. "Looks like baby is 6-7 weeks." Kaleb says, "Ok, that's okay." I said, "I don't think that's good." The nurse said, "no, I don't see a heartbeat." Tears streamed down mine and Kaleb's face. Our precious baby and our dreams and plans were suddenly disappearing.
The days following our appointment were full of emotions. The baby was still inside, but it was not alive. I still had all of my strong pregnancy symptoms. I still was a person of two, with baby inside of my body. I was overwhelmed with love and grace from our families and friends. I felt God's presence unconditionally, through Him and through others. The love of neighbors coming over to give hugs, friends sending flowers, phone calls and voicemails, text messages, friends making meals. I was overwhelmed with God's love. The days were filled with tears and with love.
Then, I miscarried. Not only was it the most physical pain I've ever experienced, it was the most emotional pain I've experienced. A part of me had left and gone to heaven. Someone I deeply loved and cared for was now in heaven and no longer with me. Baby was gone. I was now alone for the first time in 3 months. My body was beginning to go back to normal. I hated it. I was numb. Baby was gone.
The days following I mourned our child. God never felt far away. I didn't feel like opening the Bible, but God consumed me with grace and love. God knew I couldn't force myself to read, but instead He came to me and brought love. He used others, He used Kaleb, He used His very presence. The week before our doctor's appointment, every night that my head hit the pillow I felt God rocking me to sleep. I know this sounds odd, especially because at this point I wasn't nervous, I knew baby was doing fine. But I now believe that this was God preparing me and loving me. When I was about 7 weeks pregnant, I had a strong urge that my Grandma K who is in heaven knew my baby. She was smiling in my vision and intimately KNEW my baby. At that time, I thought she was just showing me that she was happy I was pregnant, but maybe she's looking after baby and welcomed him/her into heaven on that day. God's timing is perfect. God's love is sufficient. Even in our deepest heartbreak, God still knows exactly what He's doing.
There's now no evidence of it, but I'm a mother. I now have a great anticipation of heaven. To se my smiling child. My child who never knew sin, and ONLY knows love. Everywhere I go, I will carry the pain of not knowing my baby's facial features and precious body and personality. But, I get to live in anticipation of someday seeing that sweet child's face.