A Reminder That I Am Not In Control

I'm not sure how to start this off. It's not fun or light-hearted. But I have two reasons for sharing. One, because it's not fun or light-hearted. I never want to give the impression that our lives are peachy, and that our faith in God is only because everything goes so well all the time. And two, because I need people to know. I don't want a lot of sympathy notes or casseroles. I just want people to know.

Two weeks ago I had a miscarriage.

I was about five weeks along, which means we'd known about a week. I already had my announcement blog written, as well as a list of things to add to my Amazon wish list once it was "official."

Last time we announced to family, we'd only found out that very morning. This time, since Caleb is older and more aware of things, we'd decided to wait to tell family members until our first doctor visit at 8 weeks or so.

The pregnancy started out differently from the other two, with spotting. I'd read that could be normal, and a phonecall to the doctor confirmed that. The spotting stopped, but resumed a few days later, this time more like real bleeding. Of course, it was a Friday afternoon, so I worried and Googled all weekend. We also called our parents to let them know what was going on, so they could join us in praying. By Monday, I was sure that I was miscarrying, and that was that.

However, at Monday's appointment, my doctor suggested that I might have sub-chorionic bleeding. That can be problematic in and of itself, but it meant that what I was experiencing could right itself, unlike a miscarriage. I regained hope that the pregnancy would make it.

On Monday, and again on Wednesday, I gave blood to test for HCG levels (pregnancy hormone). By Thursday, my bleeding had mostly stopped, and without any of the cramping or huge clots I had read would occur in a miscarriage. I told myself that the doctor had been right about the sub-chorionic bleeding, and that it was already healing, but an afternoon phonecall relaying my abysmal (and falling) HCG levels confirmed my fears.

Miscarriage.

The nurse said that what was done, was done. I was no longer pregnant, and thankfully there would be no need for further procedures or tests. As a matter of fact, had this happened 30 years ago, I would have assumed my cycle was weird for the month, and never suspected pregnancy.

When we heard the news, I really didn't feel anything. I didn't cry. I was grateful to know, one way or the other. The chipper little BabyCenter 6-week email didn't bother me; I just logged into my account to delete my third child I'd set up on their site. Just like that.

I wondered if I was just pushing down the grief--that maybe it would surface one day, and I'd be a ball of tears. So far (so far...) this hasn't happened. I've known many of my friends who have miscarried--some very recently. That, combined with the almost constant spotting/bleeding during the pregnancy, somehow protected my heart from being too certain that this baby was going to make it. And you know, God IS in control. I trust that with all my heart, and I trust that He has a good plan for me, and for my family. He has shown that to be true over and over again in my life, and I don't doubt Him on this one.

It's a good reminder that I am not in control: I cannot will things to happen in my life that I wish would happen.

It's also a good reminder of what's important. So many times when we were going through that week of uncertainty, as I listened to a minor complaint (that seemed major to the person complaining), I wanted to say, "Don't you realize how trivial that is? Do you realize I am losing my child inside of me, right now, and I can't do anything about it?"

And I guess that comes back to why I feel the need to write this post, instead of just letting things be. It just seems--though it was only a few moments in my life--that it's something I will always think of. Though it played itself out so quietly and quickly, it was significant.