Aftermath

This morning I did what I always do when the worst first couple days of a miscarriage are over. I took that second test in the box and watched it go from life to death. I do this for a couple reasons. First to be a good patient and spare myself having to go for a blood draw to "make sure the hcg drops off". But second, I'm a bleeder and I once hemorrhaged and then bled for 8 weeks during a pregnancy and that resulted in our fireball of a second child. So forever more when a miscarriage starts I will have to take that second test to put to death all false hopes.

Sometimes I wonder about Lazarus. I wonder when he died for the second time. I think about his loved ones who had been there for his first resurrection. I wonder if some of them looked over their shoulders to see if Lazarus would get a second miracle. I suppose not. And yet those that loved him most must have had a very hard time letting him go for good in this life.

When I was 10 weeks pregnant with our fireball I was lifting my first born out of his car seat when I heard an audible "pop" and there, on my driveway, I was standing in a pool of blood in seconds. I panicked. I ran my toddler inside and ran for the bathroom. I sat there watching blood pour out of me while trying not to go into shock. What on earth was I going to do? We were hundreds of miles from any family since we were on vicarage and we had no friends. And my husband was in the middle of leading a second service. I couldn't call 911 and leave my toddler! I started to hyperventilate as I tried to figure out what to do. I tried to call the church office twice praying a passerby would answer and be able to go get my husband. I tried calling my husband's cell phone several times in a row hoping it would be on vibrate in his pocket. I tried calling my midwife but she was in church. Finally, I called my sister hundreds of miles away to sob to her that I was losing my baby. I don't really remember all that much after that. Somehow my husband figured out I was trying to reach him and called me. Yes, I was still hemorrhaging. Just in case you doubt what it is to hemorrhage and not just bleed, in about a 30 minute span one will overflow two super sized pads, the kinds that are designed for after a birth that I still had on hand from my first child's birth. My husband rushed home and off we went to the ER. "I don't want to lose this baby!" I sobbed. All hope was lost that my baby was still alive. I sat in the ER rocking myself and sobbing while my husband tried to soothe me and my toddler tried to kiss my tears away.

And then there I was laying in the dark as the cold glop was squirted onto my skin and the screen lit up. And there was this tiny perfect little miniature human. We all held our breath and then, suddenly, a flicker, a kick, and we all started laughing and crying as we realized our little man was alive! I should have named him Lazarus.

But happy endings are a thing of the past around here. Every bleed is bad, every ultrasound screen is filled with images of dead babies. I'm sorry if this offends you, but you haven't lived in my body for the last year. You haven't been in three dark ultrasound rooms alone to see dead or dying babies each time. I have. I have prayed. I have sobbed. I have wailed until I threw up. My husband and I have laid hands on my belly and begged and cried for a lazarus miracle. But each time we have been handed over to death. Death without baptism. But....not death without a resurrection.

This painting now hangs on my refrigerator. Mary, dear mother, how sad, how broken, how alone she  must have felt. How confused! She did not understand that He would raise. She only knew that the hope she had held that her first born would do great things was gone. He was dead. I love this painting. There she is lost and alone but SURPRISE!!!! Jesus has come. I love that we get a glimpse before she does in this painting. It's like that moment in the movies where the huge climactic moment hits and your heart jumps as you realize what is about to happen. Or when you're reading an incredible book and you realize "who dun it". 

Only the earthly minded can drown in the death of this life. And so my all times sinner side threatens to choke me and leave me at the tomb every single time. But, thankfully my salvation is not up to me. Just like I was taken to the font and drowned, and killed, and raised without my even knowing, so God continues working out my salvation without my help. This also comforts me that just like salvation is a gift freely given so also are these babies. They are not under my control, but God's. I can receive, but not decide how long these children will be mine. 

If this baby had been a girl, her name would have been LisaMaria. The second name is in honor of the dear mother of our Lord. The first, one of the most humble and loving servants of Christ that I have met in this life. We decided to save this name in the hopes that we will be able to use it here some time. 

I worry constantly about my friends. I worry each time that maybe I shouldn't tell anyone. I hate dragging anyone through this hell. I hate being that person. The one that always has tears to shed. The one that reminds everyone of sin. The one that's always insane because she's either hoping for a new life, trying to convince herself that the current life isn't really dying, or having to be forced to eat because she's grieving. Oh Job. 

The Lord Answers Job

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:

“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?

Dress for action like a man;

I will question you, and you make it known to me.

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?

Tell me, if you have understanding.

Who determined its measurements—surely you know!

Or who stretched the line upon it?

On what were its bases sunk,

or who laid its cornerstone,

when the morning stars sang together

and all the sons of God shouted for joy? (Job 38:1-7, ESV)

I cannot control how others react to my suffering. And I would not blame them if it became too much. I'm sure it looks to many that I am bringing this suffering on myself since I am the one remaining open to the Lord's gifts. It looked that way to Job's friends too who told him to just curse God and die and be done with his suffering. But in a day and age when life is valued so very little, when abortions are rampant and birth control passed out like candy, I refuse to put a false bandage on everyone's emotions. Crosses are not chosen, they are given. Oh Lord that this cup would be taken from me.

I told my oldest son today that he has 6 brothers/sisters in heaven. We had only told them about 3 of the losses. Then I showed him the painting of Mary and we talked about how lost and sad she was and how cool it is that the very joy she desires is right behind her. 

And we agreed that to be heaven-minded just makes everything OK again. Our hope is right behind us, within us, around us. Life is right there...we can't see it, but it's there, oh so close!!! He is coming! We will be reunited! I will stand in heaven with 10 children! COME LORD JESUS! COME!

And so we wait. And if you will excuse me, I am off to mass to receive my Lord through the doorposts of my mouth for the salvation of my soul. May Christ keep us all and may He come soon. Amen.