I have craved some time to process my thoughts for months, but I haven't made the time for it. But life has handed me time in the form of Covid. Thankfully, I am having a mild reaction to the virus thus far, so my family is living our best Covid life at the lake. What a gift!
I am expecting to wander in this post, hoping to flush out the thoughts that have pinged around in my head as the months and weeks have marched on.
With no need to tell the story, I lost yet another baby in July. In the immediate aftermath of it, I refused to call it a miscarriage because Adam and I said a second miscarriage would mean we were done. I called it a chemical pregnancy, and I fully believe that's what my OB would call it had I told her anything about it. I told no one other than Adam for a full month. I couldn't bare the thought of people not understanding the depth of pain I was in. I was too fragile. A lack of care or compassion might undo me. But I mean, I also could rationalize why a fourth miscarriage might strike some people as background noise.
"Lady, you've walked through this now 4 times. Give it up. God has given you 3 healthy children. Can't that be enough?"
I feared judgement instead of kindness.
Yet my heart was broken. Both at the loss of another one of MY babies. But also that something seemed actually broken within me. Elliana was in fact a mysterious miracle. A wonder! A love gift of epic size!
And still. I was trying to muster up the strength to ask God for one more miracle. I sought new medical care. I ran all the tests. Took all of the supplements. Ran all the tests again. Left with more supplements to try and big questions hanging out in my head and heart.
And I. am. tired.
I had a follow up appointment on Wednesday to discuss the latest blood work and new things to try to get more optimal numbers, and I wanted to hang my head, wave the flag. I can't. I'm weary.
I have moments when I can see the beauty of my family as it is and where it's headed. I'm on the brink of more independence. I could theoretically start doing more things that set my soul on fire. I am on the verge of being seen as more than Mommy. I can actually see that horizon.
But I look around at my three little people, and I cannot ignore the ache for more. I guess, I can. And I might have to. I guess I'm wanting one more answer.
As my due date for the first baby I lost this year (I cannot tell you how much I despise having to clarify WHICH loss I'm referring to) approached, I felt the grief and sorrow like a cloak. I saw big bellies and heard other mommas counting down their weeks. And I knew. I swear my body knew. That baby was due the day before precious Hopey's birthday party. That night I decorated the very cake I had wondered how I would pull off in those short weeks of being pregnant last winter. I whispered to myself, "This isn't what I had in mind."
This road of repeated loss and lonely grief has been hard. And there's a lot of shame and guilt that goes along with it. And I have to choose over and over and over again to look to Jesus. And if I'm being honest, I don't always make that choice. I have not always trusted His heart towards me. But I want to.
It is easy to look at Nolan, Isaac, and Elliana and see His goodness to me. I can hear their laughter and feel their hugs. God has given me more than I ever deserved. And I know that I know that I know that He is trustworthy with all that I've lost. He wastes nothing. My heart is safe in His care. His ways are better than mine. He has kindness in His eyes. So, I repeat these things to myself when I feel weak. And I offer up, "Help my unbelief."
