December 18, 1995 is a day I will always remember. The feelings are no longer so raw or painful, but I can in my mind go right back to the weekend leading up to that Monday morning. The frantic phone call to the doctor on Friday night, the fear and gripping realization that the baby we had prayed for, longed for and waited for was not going to make it inside my body any longer.
I was 10 weeks into my first ever pregnancy. We were so excited. We had been to the doctor just 10 days before and had talked about this baby of ours. We'd told friends that we were finally expecting. Our families had been told at Thanksgiving. We knew nothing but joy.
Friday December 15th was a normal day at the office for me, but right after lunch things changed. I started spotting. The other ladies in the office said, not too worry that this was normal. The Doctor said to go home, rest and get off my feet. By Friday night, we were sacred. It was getting worse, not better. We called on doctor and interrupted her dinner out, we wanted to go to the ER and see what was happening. She gave us wonderful advice. Sit tight, don't go. Let's give this baby every chance to make it. If we went she said, they would probably just hasten up the process. It was a long weekend. We had big plans for Christmas shopping a few parties and just overall excitement. Instead we cried, hugged and I rested. I think God was preparing our hearts for Monday morning and the ultrasound that would tell us that our baby had died sometime in the previous two weeks.
Monday December 18th, we went to the Doctor. I remember the waiting room, the ultrasound tech trying to give us some hope, but the look on her face said it all. No heartbeat. My mother and husband's looks of sadness and despair. The doctors' tears for us. The trusting hand on my shoulder saying these things happen and you did nothing wrong. I'm so sorry.
Seeing two other doctors in the hallway who were family friends. Their looks of sadness when they realized the news we'd just received. I was scheduled for a D & C the next morning at the hospital. By 4 p.m. in the afternoon that was no longer necessary. I miscarried the baby at my parents home. The Sac was complete. A Small Tiny Little Creation from God. A Real Baby was inside. Those feet you see that represent pro-life. I saw them there.
We buried the baby at a family's acreage outside of town. Between three trees. The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit we thought. Watching over our loss, our dreams our hopes.
We went through the motions of Christmas that year. Sad, brokenhearted and crying. We saw people who wished us well, not knowing the turn of events. It was devastating.
It would not be until the weekend that our baby was due to come that summer that we would find out we were pregnant again. With tears, hopes and lots of prayers, we would bring that baby home healthy and loved in March of 1997.
Tomorrow I'll share the lessons. blessings and gifts that this expereience has given to us as a family.