I'll never forget those numbers...that date. Whether I like it or not, it is forever etched upon my heart.
While America mourns the tragedy that claimed countless lives by the hands of terrorists, I mourn the traumatic loss of the life our unborn child at 14 weeks pregnant by the plan of God.
I remember that hot Summer morning as if it were yesterday. I could barely sleep the night before because of the anxiousness that flooded my heart at the thought of hearing our fourth addition's heartbeat again. About a week prior, I'd just began to feel flutters and soft taps on my tummy. For an expecting mother, that's the most amazing feeling.
Time seemed to move so slow that day. My 10:30AM appointment couldn't get there fast enough. But when I finally made it to the doctor's office and the nurse walked into the room with the handheld fetal doppler, my heart was filled with excitement.
Hearing your baby's heartbeat - what sounds like a herd of running horses - is the most precious sound to your ears.
After squeezing a glob of warm gel on my belly, my sweet nurse proceeded to find our sweet pea's heartbeat.
Left side. Nothing.
Right side. Nothing.
Upper abdomen. Nothing.
Lower abdomen. Nothing.
"Baby must be hiding," she said without making eye contact with me.
Instantly, my worry siren went off. She told me she was going to get my doctor to let her try with a different, better doppler.
In came my always upbeat doctor. "Alright, let's hear this music," she said, referencing a baby's heartbeat being music to a mother's ears. She couldn't find it either.
Off to the sonogram room they sent me. Although I was praying that everything was alright with our baby, in the pit of my stomach I just knew something wasn't right.
As I lay on the examining table glaring intently at the sonogram screen, searching for the sign of our child's beating heart, my heart shattered to a billion pieces as I saw our baby's lifeless body lying inside my womb.
"I'm so sorry," I heard a soft voice saying. I couldn't see anyone though, because I was unable to see past the puddle of water that had built up in my eyes. I couldn't believe what I'd just experienced. It was all so surreal.
I couldn't understand why I suddenly had a dagger in my heart, a lump in my throat that had seemed to obstruct my breathing, or a face wet with tears. Was I dreaming? Was I in the middle of a horrible nightmare? Was I being Punk'd?
Oh how I wished that it wasn't real. I still wish it wasn't. But it was, and still is. Very real...my reality. My baby...our baby...our sons' sibling...gone. Just like that -- without warning.
I felt helpless.
I felt hopeless.
I felt forsaken.
I felt weak.
I felt deep sorrow.
I felt empty.
I felt broken.
I left the doctor's office feeling numb. I left carrying a baby that had no life. My baby...in my womb...dead. What agony!
As if the emotional pain was not enough, my body had delayed reaction to no longer being pregnant, and a week after having a D&C to remove our baby's body from my womb, I experienced the excruciating pain of physical miscarriage.
Talk about a double whammy!
I couldn't eat.
I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't speak.
I couldn't pray.
I couldn't write.
I couldn't smile.
I couldn't interact with my family.
It was the worst pain I'd ever experienced.
I descended deep into a pit of despair and depression and honestly began to believe that it was over for me. Of all of the challenging situations I'd overcome, this one had knocked me completely off my feet. My internal world was upside down...chaotic...nothing made sense. If I'm truly honest, for a moment, I was angry with God. I couldn't understand why He'd allow something so heartbreaking to happen. I couldn't figure out what I'd done to deserve such pain.
No one knew my raw pain...no one saw my inner turmoil...no one witnessed my emotional breakdown. No one. But God.
When I hid the true depths of my pain from those who came to comfort and console me, He saw it all. He felt it all. He understood it all.
He took the mess that I'd become and cleaned it up. He wiped my tears. He calmed my fears. He broke the forming chains of mental and emotional turmoil, and commanded me, His daughter, to rise up from the ashes. He breathed breath into my lifeless soul, strengthened my buckling knees, mended my shattered heart, and rescued my crushed spirit. He. Healed. Me.
Totally.
Completely.
Amazingly.
As my mind and heart reflects on the anniversary of the loss of our angel baby, though my heart still feels a bit of a sting, I stand today immeasurably stronger, wiser and better than I was a year ago. The pain did not destroy me as I felt it would, but it has propelled me further into my destiny.
I could have drowned.
I could have been consumed.
I could have lost my mind.
I could have...I should have...I would have...but because of God's grace, I didn't.
Glory to God!
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