absent... part three...
continued from yesterday...
i somehow managed to suck it up at work. alone in the car, or on trips to the bathroom, i couldn't help the tears. a couple times at my desk, a tear trickled down, but still... i made it. i traveled home that evening, numb. i walked in the door welcomed by matthew's embrace. he held me while i cried and stroked my head. i spewed my worries and my concerns and my the loss of my dreams at him. and he sat. he listened. he took it all in. he apologized for me having to go through this. knowing it was neither of our faults, we just sat together the rest of the night. and as we fell asleep, matthew's arms wrapped tightly around me as he whispered prayers into the heavens and i silently wept myself to sleep. my hope was all but lost.
the call came around noon the next day. i listened in the bathroom stall, expecting the message from the doctor to bring me to tears. she explained my hormone levels were that of a 10 week pregnancy, at a point where we should be able to see a heartbeat. she said with nearly 100% certainty that i could expect the actual act of miscarriage in the next week. it appeared that baby had died a couple weeks ago, and my body still thought it was pregnant. she expected that to change sometime soon. she asked me to keep my appointment for next week, and call her if i experienced any heavy bleeding or cramping. the lump in my throat consumed my breathing. the tears fought my eyes. i sat on that potty in that first stall, and i wept. i left a message for matthew, and my mom and i started out the door to try to live a normal existence for the next week, knowing i was carrying a dead baby inside of me. knowing at any moment my body would realize i was no longer pregnant. that was two weeks ago today.
that weekend, i sat and waited. i sat and cried. i sat and watched movies, and played with asher, but i didn't do anything else. i didn't go grocery shopping. i didn't clean the house. i didn't help matthew trim the hedges. i didn't cook. i didn't do the dishes. i didn't do laundry. i just sat. i waited. i cried. i mourned. i didn't return phone calls. i didn't want to talk about it. i googled miscarriages; i read story after story. i thought i knew what to expect... i just didn't know when to expect it. i mentioned that i could prepare myself emotionally for this to come, but physically i could not... i did not know when or what to expect.
monday i got up and ready for work. i couldn't just sit home and wait for it happen... what if i waited all week and it didn't happen. i decided i would tell the owner what was going on, so if i called in in the next week, she would know why. i thought maybe she would understand. work was hell. i busied myself with work and clients and trucks and permits. but i couldn't hide the feling of anticipation, expectiation, i couldn't hide the feeling of wanting to get this over with so i could put it behind me. i couldn't hide the feelings of dread and worry and sorrow. around 4:30, i felt the first twinge of pain... i ran to the bathroom, and sure enough... i knew now. it was starting. i wrapped up what i was working on at work, and ran out the door a half an hour early with a call to matthew telling him i was on my way home. when he asked why i was leaving early, i snapped at him. then i i apologized through tears. this was going to be harder than i thought.
the physical act of miscarriage was not anything i could have been prepared for. if anyone wants to hear about it, i will share it with you... but i don' think i should write about it here for all the world to see, whether they are ready or not. what i can say is this... i did not want to be left alone. i was scared of would happen if i was. i could not control in one tiny bit what was happening in my body. it hurt. it was disgusting. we thought i might have to go the emergency room, so i called my mom and told her we would like her to come over now, in case we needed to go later. i maybe should have gone... but i didn't. for 8 hours i laid on my couch watching anne of green gables with matthew and my mom sitting beside me, supporting me. every 20 minutes i would run to the bathroom, every 30 minutes i would let a tear slip by. by 1:00am, the worst was over, and i told my mom she could go home. i was exhausted and emotionally spent... i crawled into bed, on top of old towels, and asked matthew if he would stay home with me tomorrow. he wrapped me in his arms and kissed my head. and i tried to sleep. i tossed and turned and tried to sleep night. i felt both relieved that this was over, and empty and sad.
the pain and bleeding continued heavy for the next 2 days, and light for the next week and a half. i went to the doctor to make sure everything was okay, and will go back in another week to make sure again.
matthew has been the best husband anyone could ever hope for. he has prayed with me. he has laid with me. he has caught as many of my tears as he possible could. he has held me; and he has tried to give me hope again. i don't deserve how wonderful he is to me. i don't deserve the kind of man God gave to me.
i have cried a million tears. i have felt despair that i never expected. i have felt guilt and remorse and wondered what i could have done. i have felt loss and tragedy and total loss of control. i have never felt so empty. so hollow. so absent.
we wonder if asher really is our miracle baby. we wonder if we will have to experience this a dozen more times. we wonder when we will have strength to try this again.
i will always wonder. i will always hurt from this loss. i never got to hold my baby. i never got to see his or her face. i never had the chance to give it a name. i never got to smother it with hugs, or give it a million kisses. i never got to rock it so sleep long after daddy had already gone to bed. i never got to see what funny faces they would make, or know what their favorite food is. i will never know what he looked like, i will never know if she looked nothing like her big brother. i will never know what she could have been. i will never get to see what he becomes, what he grows into. i will never get to hold my baby. i will never get to see their face. i will never get to send them off to school, i will never get to sing to them when they're sick, or read them their favorite book. i will never know what it was like to have two babies 14 months apart. i will always feel like there is gap in our family, and empty spot where another baby should be. my baby is absent from my life, and i feel absent from my own.
i wonder how long the grief will stay. i wonder when i will be able to think of it, or talk of it, or write about it without weeping. i wonder when the hopelessness and sadness and emptiness will begin to fade. i wonder when the night will come when i do not cry myself to sleep, when matthew does not have to catch my tears on his chest. i wonder when the day will come, when i feel whole again.
the only thing that brings me joy is my family here. my hardworking matthew, so willing to be my rock. my asher. asher's smiling face and silly antics. his love for bananas and oatmeal with cinnamon. his army crawl all the way across the room, to find his mommy or his daddy or that rogue piece of paper. that is where my joy is found these days.
and i find hope in a God who is bigger than me, who is holding me in His arms. i find hope in a God who is bigger than me, who is holding my baby in His arms. i find hope in tomorrow, hope in this experience, because i refuse to believe that we have gone through this in vain. there must be a reason, there must be a hope, there must be a joy, buried inside of all this pain.
and as this pain ceases, i will covet your prayers. thank you all for your love and support and hugs sent from miles away. thank you for your prayers.