on miscarriage



Last week, two days after the election (so talk about terrible timing emotionally), I found out I had had a miscarriage. I was 9, creeping up on 10, weeks pregnant.  It apparently happened around 7.5 weeks, or just a couple of days after my first doctor’s visit.

That same afternoon I went in to the hospital for a D&C.

I’m not going to say this hasn’t been tough.

While we knew by then it was coming, the few seconds of silence when we were supposed to hear a heartbeat on the ultrasound was a brutal gut punch.  The sympathy of everyone, while kind and appropriate and appreciated, has been what has made me cry the most (I could hardly stand to overhear our parents’ reactions on the phone when Gerrit told them).  And it has been another thing in a long list of things that have made the last few months tough for us.

Mostly though now, I am disappointed.  And sad.  I’m sad it happened and I’m disappointed to feel like we are back at square one after what had already been a somewhat long journey of trying to have a second kid.  It is a sobering reminder that I cannot control the age gap between our children.

The thing that has been good though, which Gerrit and I have talked over and over about during the last few days, is how grateful we feel.  It has been one of those things, which I have also experienced after the death of loved ones and which I can only attribute to the love of God in and around us, where the gratitude has overshadowed the grief (or at least made it much less felt).

I am so thankful that it happened when it did.  I know too many people who have had devastating late term miscarriages or lost children in early infancy, and if something was going to happen I’m so thankful it happened relatively early.  (BTW if you feel the call to donate to help a family adopt after late term miscarriages, this family is so deserving.)

I am so thankful for our ultrasound tech and OB.  They are simply the best and were the kindest most gentlest people during the whole process.

I am so thankful for my parents, who dropped what they were doing (thankfully it was a half day at school for my mom), and came over to sit with me between our doctor’s appointment and when we were due at the hospital.  And who kept Evelyn all afternoon and evening.

I am thankful, as weird as it may sound, for the inexplicable premonition I have had pretty much all along that something would go wrong with this pregnancy.  I was surprised at our first appointment that everything had looked fine, and I was not completely surprised at the visit last week that it didn’t.  It has perhaps made this just a bit easier.

I am so thankful I was able to have the procedure the same day.  I suppose some people need more time to grieve before the surgery, but I didn’t want to come home and dread it for longer than I needed, too.  I was ready to get it done with, and I’m glad we were able to.

I am so thankful for nurses.  They are the best.  I am always so confounded when people talk about bad hospital experiences because whenever I have been hospitalized I have felt nothing but completely safe and taken care of.

I am so thankful that so many people talk about miscarriages these days and it isn’t such a taboo subject.  It makes us all feel less alone, and I hope that by putting my story out there it will help someone else.

I am so thankful for the kind messages we have already received from the friends and family with whom we have shared the news.

I am so thankful for Evelyn.  Because, well, we have her.  And she is just joy.  Ok, sometimes she is a stubborn two-year-old pain, but mostly she is joy. ;)

I am so thankful for Gerrit, who has completely been my rock through this and taken such good care of me and helped me to rest and recover.

It’s been a rough week, and the emotions of grief are still hitting me at unexpected times (and I’m sure they will continue for a while).  But there’s a lot I’m thankful for, and I’m thankful that this list was longer than I expected when I started.

Love to all.

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