I’ve shared a quick version of Steven’s Birth Story before. But that’s not the story I wanted to share with you today. I want to share the story of the first hardest day of my life. The day I first became a Mother. And the reason that Mother’s Day used to be such a hard day for me. This will be a long post, so I apologize, but I felt I needed to share it- our miscarriage story.
Flash back to 2009. A year and a half into my marriage. I was 21 years old. Which seems so young now, looking back. I was 8 weeks pregnant, and glowing with excitement. Telling everyone I met. I couldn’t contain it. We had been trying for over a year, and there that + sign had been. We were over the moon. We couldn’t stop smiling.
We went golfing with my brother and sister-in-law on a Saturday. Something we tried to do often. Halfway through, we stopped for a bathroom break. My SIL and I were talking like women do in the restroom, joking and laughing.
Then I saw it.
Red.
Right where it shouldn’t be. Normally as a woman, this is no big deal. Something that happens 12 times a year. But not now. My heart sank. I began to panic.
My SIL calmed me down. Explained it’s fairly normal. She had 3 kids at this point, and said it was a pretty common occurrence. I took a deep breath and went back to golfing. Totally convincing myself that it would be fine. Brushing it off. I was young and healthy, there was no need to worry.
I started to feel sick about the time we finished. We all headed to dinner and I spent the whole time in the restroom. Scared to eat. I just wanted to go home. Hubby took me home, and transplanted me onto the couch. Forbidding me to get up. He ran to the store, got provisions. And I stayed there the rest of the weekend.
It was coming and going, so I again convinced myself everything was fine. I called the doctors office, and they weren’t concerned at all either. We called family and friends, everyone was praying. I felt comforted and tried to rest.
On Tuesday it got worse. So we packed up and headed to the emergency room. They took me right in. The ultrasound tech took me back, She wouldn’t let my husband go with me. She turned the screen away and began looking. She didn’t say anything. They sent me back to my room. The doctor came in, and told me we needed another ultrasound, that they needed to check again. They still didn’t tell me anything. So in we went again. This time my husband came with me. He didn’t ask, and they didn’t turn him away.
She checked again. Didn’t say anything again.
Back to my room. Scared and visibly shaken. I didn’t know what was happening.
My Mom, My Pastor, and my Husband sat together. None of us talking. All holding our breath. The doctor came back.
He said the baby wasn’t growing as quickly as it should. That they couldn’t be sure what would happen. That we just needed to go home and rest, and go see the doctor in a few days. Still nothing. No information. Just “go home and rest.” We gathered our things, got my discharge papers, and left.
In the car, I looked down at the paper and that’s when I saw it…
“Threatened Miscarriage.” With instructions on what to do. They had never said that word to me at the hospital. I was still in denial that anything could happen.
We went home. I tried to sleep. My husband and I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t do anything but hold each other.
The next day he had to go back to work, so my Mom came to stay with me. We talked and joked, watched t.v. and she cleaned up my house. Then it happened.
Contractions.
I knew it was happening then.
They came hard and quick. Closer and closer together. My mom sat on the floor next to the couch praying and holding my hand. She called my husband and told him to come home now.
He made it home just in time. It happened. I won’t describe it in detail. But, it happened and we were broken. Couldn’t do anything but sob. We cried for hours.
This tiny thing, that most of the world doesn’t even consider to be a life.
That was our whole world.
All of our plans. Our universe flipped around. We didn’t know where to go from there.
Mother’s Day was a few weeks later. It was HARD. Because I WAS a Mother. The world didn’t think so. I had nothing to show for it. But in my heart of hearts I knew.
The next few days, weeks, months were tough. Over time it got a little easier. We could smile again. Think about making a family again.
It took us 3 more years. But, finally we welcomed our little bundle of amazing joy into the world. He helped to seal the crack in our hearts left by our greatest loss.
We’ll never forgot, never stop mourning our first child. But we are a family and happiness has replaced what was once the deepest sadness.
To those Mothers and those who want so badly to be a Mother, especially on Mother’s Day, I prayed for you. I mourned with you. I will never forget you. I was once you.
I hope everyone had a blessed day. I really did. But let’s not forget the ones who had a hard time. Let’s continually lift them up in prayer.
I’m sorry for sharing a heavy post, amongst my usually lighthearted ones. I just really needed to share our story. And I hope it blesses someone who has been there before.
