On a Friday morning I strolled into my OBGYN's office for my 20 week appointment. I was so excited to be at the halfway mark to meeting our 4th child, a little girl named Blair. Sitting in the waiting room I had no idea my world was about to come crashing down.
On a Friday morning I strolled into my OBGYN's office for my 20 week appointment. I was so excited to be at the halfway mark to meeting our 4th child, a little girl named Blair. Sitting in the waiting room I had no idea my world was about to come crashing down. There was no heartbeat. Our daughter had passed and was resting in the arms of Jesus. The sounds I heard coming from the room I was in was deafening, but I later realized the sounds I had heard were coming from my own mouth. I was told I had to wait until Monday to deliver. So, my husband and I went home to tell our children the news we knew would change their lives forever since this would be their first experience with loss. That Saturday and Sunday I struggled with not wanting the weekend to ever end because I so hoped to hold onto my daughter and prayed for a miracle. Maybe there could have just been a horrible mistake. But I also was just ready for Monday to be over with because my swollen belly was a devastating reminder how my body had failed my baby. The weekend was a fog of devastation and sorrow. Monday morning came and my husband and I walked into the hospital to give birth to our daughter who would not be coming home with us. I had determined early in my pregnancy that I would give birth all natural without any pain medication. So I had my heart set to still do the same. The medicine I was given to induce was very strong and made for an intense labor. While the pain my family watched me go through for hours that day was hard for them, it was so very healing for me. Every contraction and every pain I felt was what I knew would be the last experience I would have on this earth with my daughter. The more intense the pain got, the more I could place a tangible feeling to what I was experiencing in my heart. Her beautiful little body came late that afternoon and my husband and I spent hours holding her, kissing her, and dreaming about what she would have been like. Would she have been reserved like her oldest brother, would she have had blonde hair like her middle brother, or would she have been sassy like her older sister? She was perfect, besides the fluid that surrounded her heart, that made it stop beating. Late that Monday night we walked out of the hospital empty handed and were supposed to just go home and resume life as normal. The following day our daughter was buried with an intimate graveside service. We were expected to just go home again and resume life as normal. While I grieved my body still responded to care for an infant I had just given birth to. My husband grieved while he watched me slip away into anger, hurt, and selfishness. ... I am so grateful that our story doesn't stop there. During all of this we are also in the process of adopting a 6 year old beautiful girl from Malawi, Africa. Adoption is a whole other beautifully difficult process within itself. My husband and I have 3 healthy children we brought into this world and one on the way that God is gifting us through adoption. We have so much to be thankful for. I finally felt the need to filter back into the real world after 2 weeks of reclusing into my home, so our family went to church service where a sweet spirited young woman who has struggled with infertility gifted me with a STRENGTH key she had been given during her pain. ... So my prayer is that God will provide me with the strength to continue in the process of bringing my daughter home from Malawi and strength to try to bring life into this world one last time. I then pray that I am led to the next person who I can minister and gift the STRENGTH key to. I am writing this 2 weeks after our heartbreak. Our daughter fell asleep surrounded by so much love and woke up with a perfect heart in the presence of our Savior. If we were all so lucky.