At 13.5 weeks, our miscarriage is done. It’s ironic that this would have been the weekend Brooks and I would share our good news with the world – we are pregnant with twins. But instead, it’s the weekend we got to lose our babies.
Monday, at 3:30 in the afternoon, we started to bleed heavily and that bleeding didn’t slow until the delivery of “Twin B” at around 10:30pm. While the process went smoothly and everything happened as it should have, we were not expecting this amount of blood to come. It scared us a bit and we went to the ER just in case. My levels were checked and I was given IV fluids. Everything seemed fine.. physically at least.
Throughout the process, heartache stayed with us and emotion came in for visits. One moment I would be ok and the next I was crying my eyes out. I think what helped me get through the emotion of the process was the physical endurance one must have to work through a miscarriage… at least one of this proportion.
Every miscarriage is different. In preparation for our big day, some told me theirs was like a heavy period. Others said they had massive amounts of bleeding. Our doctor said to expect up to 2 hours of heavy bleeding and during that time I would be filling one pad per hour with blood. That’s not what happened though. I couldn’t get off of the toilet because of the bleeding. I was filling a pad just by standing up and did so for 7 solid hours.
Contractions were hard and persistent.
I learned that day that miscarriage is a form of labor and delivery. My body was responding with all of the normal labor symptoms, including trembling, chattering teeth, etc.
The fact of the matter was, I was delivering our babies.
In the hospital, massively large amounts of debris were exiting my body. Some the size of my hand. I wondered if each one that passed was a baby. It grieved me so to see the nurses simply clean it up and throw it in their special trashcans. The thought of my child {how ever it is developed} being thrown away was at times too much to bear. And even worse if that debris would fall into the toilet… to be flushed. It’s too much to even think about.
After some time at the ER and taking a dose of Misoprostol to help control the bleeding, we started home. About 10 minutes from the house, the hardest contractions of them all came. I almost couldn’t take the pain and it was slightly different from the former contractions of the day. I felt more debris sitting in me and ready to be expelled but had to hold it in… we were still in the car.
My body weak from contractions, bleeding, emotions, and heartache, I crept into my house as fast as I was able. Got to the bathroom and there “she” came. We delivered our twin that had grown the most – Twin B. She was 6 weeks developed complete with a yolk sac.
I grab her. Hold her. Cry. And felt large part of my heart crumble within.
I experienced what I’ve heard a lot of women talk about and even the bible. As soon as she was delivered the physical pain subsided and I felt relief. As though my body knew it was physically over.
Joy came as I was able to see, touch, hold, and smile at the sight of one of my babies. Thank you Lord for giving me that opportunity. It was the greatest blessing of my life even given the grave circumstances.
The next morning, having left the house turned upside down from the night before, I began to clean up the messes. Wiping blood from the sink and toilet. Picking up blood stained garments for an OxyClean treatment. Dumping trashcans of the soiled pads, Depends underwear that the hospital gave me to wear home (they were a life saver!), and the absorbing sheets that we used in the bed as I slept. In an instant, it was like it never happened. My house was back to normal.
I stood in the hallway, kitchen, living room in silence. Something wasn’t right. This is not normal. What I am seeing is normal. Everything is put away, clean, all together. But, the home in my heart wasn’t clean. I felt like I was somewhere I shouldn’t be. That I was and still am in the wrong place.
I realized in that moment my physical strength and the strength of my mind were not in control anymore. Grief had taken the helm of my heart and life.
For the last two days, I’ve cried. That’s seems to me all I’ve done. I’ve been practicing my normal protocol of thankfulness and staying busy. I did some cooking yesterday. Made some sweet treats for Brooks and I. I read a little, played with my dogs, giggled at the silliness of our chickens, went with Brooks on an errand. But, just when I get to an OK state, the house gets quiet again and Brooks leaves, I start to grieve all over again. Just this morning, a hard cry came as I was busying myself with some gardening.
I’ve never felt the pain that I feel today. It’s like none other. I’ve not experienced a grief like that of losing a child, even through miscarriage. I cannot control the tears. When they come they come. And come hard.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
As you well know, my go to is Christ. He is my example. I am focusing on two examples in scripture that show how Jesus Himself grieved. The first in Matthew 14:13 after Jesus heard that John the Baptist was beheaded in prison. He gave Himself room for solitude. He hopped on a boat and rowed through a lake to escape the crowds that had surrounded Him.
The second, at the sight of seeing His friends & loved ones weep over the death of Lazarus (see John 11). Jesus’ response was to weep with them.
So, I don’t judge myself harshly that I am crying so much and have moments of needing to be alone. This is what Jesus did.
I am still seeing my grief move. In the last 36 hours, I’ve experienced sadness, stillness, and even anger. Anger entered the picture this morning in the attitude of just wanting my babies back and feeling like they are mine but Someone has taken them from me. God gives and takes away. I know this. I can’t help the anger I’m feeling towards God but at the same time, I don’t think He blames me. I’ve responded to my anger with Him appropriately through prayer.
Through His word, I also have learned that it can be quite some time before I reach my new normal… whatever that new normal will be. Let’s face it. I will never be the Jil that I and others once knew. I’ve been changed forever.
Joseph mourned the loss of his father Jacob for some 77 days total (Genesis 50). Here again, I’m giving myself grace. Lots and lots of grace and am learning to not mold myself to some ideal picture of “having it all together”.
When my hearts wants to cry, I shall let it cry. Hopefully, that won’t be in the middle of church or birthday parties, etc. Lord, let me weep at home. If it’s solitude that it desires, then being alone I will be. If it’s laughter my soul craves, I will do so. Whatever my heart needs, it will have. And when we bury our little baby twin, tearfully I will be thankful that I have the chance to do so.
“Most women say there is no greater pain than to bear a child. I say there is no greater pain than to bury one.” Unknown
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