Fear Vs. Faith

Absent fetal heartbeat.

History of spontaneous abortion.

The cold and clinical diagnosis codes seemed to stare viciously up at me from my ultrasound prescription.  Through my tears, I saw the harsh, scrawling, mean words written by the hand of a friendly but impartial nurse.

Today, we learned that our second baby, Bennet Curtis, is in heaven. 

Please be warned that the rest of this post is very personal in nature.

I am still sorting through my feelings.  I'm angry, mostly, to be honest with you.  Everything had been perfect.  My blood work at 9 1/2 weeks came back great.  Both early ultrasounds I had gotten showed everything progressing normally.  We saw the baby's heartbeat at 7 1/2 weeks.  I didn't have any bleeding after the first few weeks, and even that had been shrugged off by the doctors as normal. 

So why did today's ultrasound show an 8-week old embryo with no heartbeat?

I can't make sense of it, and I know that's perfectly normal for an emotional woman who has just lost a pregnancy.  But in my mind I have been comparing both pregnancies and I'm stumped.  With Olivia, I did everything "right".  I was careful only to eat what I was "supposed" to eat; I didn't dye my hair or use any chemicals; I went on frequent walks to take care of myself; I took prescription pre-natal vitamins...and learned at 10 1/2 weeks that she had passed away at 8 weeks.  This time, I was more relaxed, focused less on the "right" foods and more on what made me feel good; I continued to use medication while I was expecting; I didn't exercise as much, and got great reports from all of my tests...and learned at 11 weeks that he had passed away at 8 weeks.

I feel cheated. 

And I feel like I've let the world down.

It's not vain, is it, to say that I know people were pulling for me?  The whole of my church was delighted when we shared the news on Mothers' Day.  Our friends have been constantly checking in with me, praying for me, encouraging me.  My co-workers who knew (only a few of them did) have been stopping by my desk asking for updates.  My other pregnant friends (all, like, two dozen of them!) have been sending me covert messages on facebook asking how things are.  I had begun early to dream big dreams for this baby, having felt a peace that this time, things would stick.  I began a book of Biblical promises for the baby.  I plastered verses over my mirrors so that I could see them every day and be encouraged.

Strange.  My faith in a good God is not shaken.  I am not standing, crushed, in an open field somewhere while the camera pans out against a bloody orange sky and I shake my fist and swear vengeance.  I still believe what God has promised me.  And yes, I believe that he has promised me children.  Right now, I am hurt and angry because I believed that I had another chance to be a mom.  I feel like it was ripped away from me. 

Yet, just like before, it's suddenly business as usual again.  I can do all the laundry I want. Lift heavy objects.  Clean the litter box.  Dye my hair. Drink buckets of coffee.  Eat sushi.  Take ibuprofen (thank God, because I do have a killer headache right now).  And there won't be a bassinet in the bedroom in December.

The doctor told me that they had to perform a lot of tests on me this time.  Of course I am sensitive right now and this is hardly how she said it, but basically what I heard was, "Now we need to start finding out what you're doing wrong."  I am furious with my own body.  It can't sustain a pregnancy but it won't give it up either!  The hardest part of both these miscarriages is that my body had deceived me - the babies had died weeks before, but my ridiculous body kept right on swelling and hurting and gaining weight and having cravings like nothing was wrong at all.  The strangest and emptiest feeling of all is being betrayed by your own flesh!

I have said this before but I truly believe that miscarriage and the worry associated with it is part of the curse of man.  Genesis 3:16 states:

To the woman [God] said,

“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;
with painful labor you will give birth to children.
Your desire will be for your husband,
and he will rule over you. ”

I am absolutely not getting into any arguments over feminism, religion or belief systems right now, nor will I even begin to address them.  I am explaining something I believe I am learning.  Our sin took us out from under the covering of God's blessing and we, as women, were condemned to suffer during childbearing.  Thinking in a larger sense, all of pregnancy, technically, is childbearing.  We bear a child inside our bodies for nine months.  And miscarriage is painful.  It's a part of that whole process and I think it's not a surprise that so many pregnancies do end in miscarriage.  Don't get my words confused here; I am not saying that God curses our babies or kills them or anything stupid like that.  I am saying that, even though, several books later in another (much more encouraging) verse 3:16, God sent his Son to die so we would not suffer that curse forever.  Although our souls have been redeemed through Him, our bodies aren't quite there yet and I feel this is part of that suffering.    I'll be honest, though; I don't know if, emotionally, I can do this again.  I am beginning to consider adoption, already.

Even now I am sitting here waiting for my loving parents to join us for dinner (they've insisted on bringing pizza).  I've already gotten a barrage of text messages sending love and prayers.  I am so grateful for what I do have - friends who love me and whose kindness, along with God's promises - will sustain me.  I've also assured Ross that, just because there won't be a baby in the house this year doesn't mean he gets out of all the home improvement jobs this summer.  Someday, and someday soon, there will be a baby, and he will need somewhere warm to sleep!