In September of 2015 my husband and I celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary. We didn’t go out to a fancy dinner or escape for the weekend in honor of the wholesome digit. We ate a modest meal at Chick-fil-A where our two young children played with friends; and yet this lackluster outing subtracted nothing from our special occasion.
A lot had happened to us within that decade; we’d purchased our first home, invested our savings into building another to sell and make a profit (only to lose it all in the housing collapse of 2008). We had brought two children into the world, and managed to live on a single income so I could be a stay-at-home mom. Ten years worth of trials and celebrations, and yet there was still more to come.
A couple months ago we had found out, unexpectedly, that I was pregnant. Needless to say I was surprised since several years earlier the decision was made not to conceive again due to health complications from the previous two deliveries. It was a decision I struggled to cope with. My heart wanted to grow our family, while my brain did its best to explain why such a path was more reckless than not. So once the shock settled, I couldn’t help but be thrilled. It was early in the pregnancy, I estimated I was near the 5 to 6 week mark but as any mother would tell you, it didn’t matter how early, to me, it was my child.
My husband was amazing despite the life-changing news. He consoled me during my time of shock and supported me during my premature elation. This would halt all the plans we had been making (since our youngest was about to enter school the following year) and of course there was the possible complications we would likely face. Not to mention the financial strain. But we chose to look at this in the most positive light, taking what happened and making the most of it.
Just over a week had passed since we had found out when the world decided it wasn’t through with me yet. Blood during pregnancy is always cause for alarm and though some women can bleed and still carry their child to term, for most, the result is a miscarriage. This was not my first miscarriage, however it made this one no less difficult to bear. The waiting was perhaps one of the worst parts, inching through each day, holding out hope…sending out prayers. I dream’t I was having another son, a boy that was unable to join me in this world. I cried. I went through denial, imagining I had gotten it all wrong and that everything would work itself out. I felt inadequate and that I was somehow responsible.
It’s an experience I would wish upon no one. After several horrendous weeks the verdict was final, I had lost my child. My first miscarriage was worse than this one because I was further along, nearly 16 weeks. But soon after that miscarriage we conceived our son and it was the best medicine for my grief and loss. That new pregnancy helped me cope. Sadly this time, I would not have that option. I was left with only regret. I overthought every detail and searched for that one thing I could have done differently and maybe then things would have turned out better.
I had asked my husband, more times than I should have, if we could try again. It was unfair of me to do so, but my heart ached to get back what it had lost. Being the rational one, my husband gently coaxed me into the reality of what the risks were if we tried again. His reasoning was sound, full of merit, and delivered in the most loving of ways. But I could not accept it. I longed for that child and nothing seemed to help sooth that ache. My mind and my heart were rivals, each not willing to concede to the other.
I didn’t tell anyone about my loss. Aside from my husband nobody knew. I suppose I found it easier to deal with in private, or perhaps it gave me a sense of false hope. So long as no one knew, it wasn’t final right? I’m not sure in all honesty. Maybe by the time this post goes live, I will have finally shared this sad news, only time will tell.
This post was not intended to offer wisdom, it was in search of it, I think. As I composed the draft for this post, the feeling was bittersweet. Had I not miscarried, the release of Symbol of Treason would have been delayed severely, perhaps never at all. I would be busy with my newborn child and enjoying every moment of it.
I am certain that every reader of this post has shed tears and felt a pain in their chest centered at the heart. After all we’re just people, different walks, different looks, different languages; yet the same at heart. Blessings onto each and every one of you. As one door closes, may another open freely.