Though He Slay Me...

Though He slay me, I will hope in Him;

yet I will argue my ways to His face. -Job 13:15 (ESV)

*Warning: This post will bring up some bad/sad memories and emotions for those who have gone through a similar life event and choose to still read it.*

*To Everyone Else: If you are sensitive or get squeamish about others’ tragedies, you may want to refrain from reading this post. You may also want to set a personal goal to get out from under that rock and stop hiding from reality!*

That wake you up? Good. For weeks, I've had no idea how to start this blog. Too many thoughts in my already over-processing mind swirled endlessly without structure. And when that happens, the thought of having to organize those thoughts stresses me out. So let me start this out like an AA meeting:

Hi. My name is Melinda, and I've had a miscarriage.

…

Ugh...Nope. Still nothing to jump off of.

I guess it always makes sense to start at the beginning of an event; so without further ado, here is my very honest post about my miscarriage.

February 7th started like February 6th: with the teeny-tiniest bit of crampiness. It didn't feel very different than when two years prior, tiny cramps would indicate my normal monthly cycle being missed while I was pregnant with Eden. I wasn't concerned. Unfortunately this time, I began to spot ever so lightly. Also not a concern. I'd seen this before in my first month of pregnancy with Eden. I went about my morning, having informed Jared just to keep him in-the-know.

At around 3:15 pm, I felt the same, informed my sister who said I should call my midwife just in case, and decided to check on the spotting. Nothing. Like it stopped. The call center said they'd have a midwife call me back ASAP.

By 4:30 pm, I checked again. The barely pink blood I'd seen in the morning was now a dark red color--still not much--but with a clot, no bigger than a tic-tac. Now there was some cause for concern. Everything I'd read said that an increase or darker appearance in blood wasn't something to be ignored. A midwife called me back. She suggested I go to an ER to get checked out. It could be something, it could be nothing. Being at church with a service about to start, I had to now tell Jared what I was told.

6pm- We went home so I could clean up, bring some extra items in case I ruined anything, and made plans for Eden to stay with Grandma. We then dropped her off and headed to Johnson Memorial. I dreaded the wait to be called in, but to our astonishment, we sat in the waiting room for less than 5 minutes before they called my name. We went in, answered questions, and were taken to a partitioned waiting room with a bed for patients. I was asked what my level of pain was, I said "maybe a 2," had my blood taken, and was given a pee cup. I walked over to the bathroom that smelled like they finished the walls with urine-scented paint just for the fun of it. My inner germaphobe came out and I made sure to touch NOTHING with any part of my body. This time, two quarter-sized clots came out. I knew what this meant.

8 or 9pm rolled around and I was taken to get an ultrasound. Got both an external and internal one. (Hey! No pain and no roadblocks! Thanks, Eden!) Jared asked multiple times about hearing a heartbeat and the technician said she was only taking photos and that law prohibited checking for heartbeats before 13 weeks bc of the affect it could have on the baby, and that anyone who did it should lose their license. Interesting story lady... 'cause I'd accompanied at an ultrasound in that very same hospital where they did this to someone at 9 weeks without hesitation. Flag #1. (Actually, I've flagged many incidents at this hospital in my mind, but this was the first one involving me.)

9:30pm, after being rolled back into our "room," we waited...

Doctor comes in and tells me two things: I have a UTI, and I have indeed lost the baby (as I suspected). The doctor wasn't sure how to take my reaction because it was cool. In fact, he thought someone else had informed us prior to him coming. I was just feeling sad and numb, but I believe I had already truly known the fate of my baby. I was however holding out hope for Jared's sake, because he was so excited to be expecting this time around. Sadly, any hopes were crushed. The baby was still in my belly, though, which meant one of three decisions needed to be made. 1. I could schedule a D&C (procedure done to suction the contents of my uterus out). 2. Take a drug that would induce labor to expel the contents of my uterus. Or 3. Attempt to wait for a natural labor and expulsion. The doc, Jared, and I all agreed that since my caretaker was a midwife, that we would find out her recommendation before deciding. And so I was released.

The first person I called was my little sister. The first tears came to my eyes. But they were for her sadness. I was still so very numb, and calm, and oddly peaceful. I then told the rest of my family and was given words of condolence and encouragement. We then drove to Jared's parents' house to pick up our spunky child. We had a good, much needed cry in the car before coming in, but my tears were for my husband's brokenness. There was sadness in the house, but again, only tears for others. When we got home, I called the on-call midwife back to update her. I mentioned wanting to try to do things as naturally as possible. She agreed and gave me some ideas to naturally induce labor. If this didn't work out in a few days, I would be referred for a D&C or for a prescription for Cytotec. When we got off the phone, I looked at Jared and said, "She actually recommended induced labor via Cytotec." Jared went wide-eyed, and with full authority said, "Absolutely not." I immediately agreed.

For those who don't know, Cytotec is a pharmaceutical drug given to treat stomach ulcers. That is all it is approved for. However, it is more frequently being given to pregnant women to induce labor. There is even a warning on the label that says, "NOT FOR WOMEN WHO ARE PREGNANT," specifically because it is known to cause spontaneous labor. What is hardly EVER mentioned, is the growing number of fetal and maternal DEATHS this little pill has caused. These deaths usually happened via a swollen, ruptured uterus, and internal bleeding. Every natural pregnancy book and documentary I read had a special segment on the dangers of Cytotec. And now, it was being recommended. What made it so safe for me all of a sudden? Nothing, that's what. I then found that it is also the abortion drug of choice for many pro-baby-killers. That made me sick to my stomach.

But we needed a plan B (no sick pun intended) in case this natural labor thing didn't work. So we opted for a D&C should we need a fallback. It is also a procedure used for abortion. Where babies, most often still alive, are dismembered and beheaded, and cruelly sucked out of what should be their safe haven. Ever heard of the "Silent Scream"? It's an intense and heart-wrenching pro-life video about how before video ultrasounds, no one knew that babies actually fight back and silently scream while going through this torture. So as you can imagine, I was uneasy about the idea of okaying the procedure. However, my baby was definitely with the Lord so no harm would come to them; it was the safest alternative for me with some minor and very few major risks that we were willing to accept; and lastly, I was about to do my darnedest to have this baby naturally first.

And so we lay in bed. And then it hit me. My grief. My sorrow. My pain. My guilt. My loss. My baby. I cried hard, like my husband did hours earlier. It was the release I needed. And still, I had peace.

There in bed, my cramps began to get stronger. No fun was an understatement. In and out of sleep all night until 5am when I started having regular contractions. I was in labor. They were the regular and frequent crests of active labor I had with Eden. I went to the bathroom to check. Not even a tinge of blood. Now, what?

I labored for 2 and a half hours. And then the contractions let up as if they were just cruel, passing reminders that there was death inside of me.

February 8th. I spoke to my actual midwife and she also recommended inducing labor naturally by pumping. I still had my electric breast pump, so I decided to go with it. My parents visited. It was a nice way to get my mind off things. The Lord surely granted me peace beyond my own understanding. I was ok with this. This is how life works. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was a reason for this and I fully trusted the Lord. We had a good time and enjoyed each other's company. My cramps had been mild all day. Then came time for them to leave. By 7pm, my parents were on their way home. My cramps, however, became a lot stronger.

It seemed the labor was coming back. I decided then to start pumping. Remember the "not fun" earlier? Try pumping dry while having regular contractions. Thankfully it was manageable and was only needed for 20 minutes. The labor got more intense, and I started to walk like I did at the birth center for Eden's birth.  Unfortunately the stop and go was unsettling to Eden, so when I couldn't keep quiet during contractions any longer, I retreated to the bedroom. I walked back and forth and played some Kpop. Yes, I said Kpop. It was upbeat and happy so I swayed to the music during peak contractions and huffed and groaned like raging bull. When it got too intense to want music playing, I turned it off and I prayed. Boy did I pray. I thanked God for giving me the opportunity to be a mother a second time no matter how short it was. I thanked Him for my baby whose short life will give me a lesson I have yet to learn. I thanked God for my family who was so supportive. I thanked God for blessing me with a husband that is involved, and provides, and takes initiative, and cares, and loves harder than any man on this planet. I thanked Him for holding my peaceful and pain-free tiny baby in His arms as I spoke those very words. I thanked Him for Christ Who came into an imperfect and broken world to ensure that I would see my baby again. I thanked God for my life, because I can still see that it is beautiful, even in painful seasons. And I thanked Him for always being my God no matter how little I deserved it.

Then I had a few requests for God. I prayed that He would forgive me for my selfish thoughts early on surrounding the pregnancy (even though I had eventually become grateful and thankful for being a mom again, the first few days after finding out, I had doubt, sadness, and fear. I was especially not wanting to be pregnant so soon after what I went through with Eden). I prayed that He would have mercy on me and allow this to be the last labor in this pregnancy. I prayed that I would have this baby at home and not have to go through a procedure to remove the baby. And I prayed that He be glorified in all of this.

I firmly believe God answered all those prayers with a "Yes."

I labored some more and by 9pm, the 3 strongest contractions happened. I squatted next to the bed and called Jared in because they were getting so bad. He came in for the first one and it was intense to say the least. For the next one, he had to run to get Eden situated should he be needed for a while longer. I grunted through it, pushing to see if that would help relieve some pain. It did. Then the third one came. I grunted, held Jared's hand, and pushed for as long as I could and right at the peak of the most painful contraction, RELEASE!

I told Jared to get me to the bathroom. I was now naturally expelling everything from my body. I sat on the toilet, called my midwife, and told her what was happening. I had passed some very large clots. I was heavily bleeding. She said when there was a lull, to put a big maternity pad on and get fluids in me. She also said that I shouldn't pass anything larger than an inch anymore and that I should be soaking no more than 1 pad an hour. So I put one on and went to the living room. Unfortunately, I wasn't quite done and immediately soaked right through my pad...and clothes. Joy.

So back I was taken, feeling horribly gross in my soiled self. Then I passed the largest clot. Without having seen it, I'm almost certain that it was the baby. About that time I started feeling quite uneasy. Hoping this was the last of it, I had Jared help me into the tub so I could scrub the blood streaks off my legs with warm water. There I stood, like an idiot, washing off. I felt lightheaded and sat down in the tub. And then the problems started…

“Melinda.”

Yeah?

“Mel?”

YEAH?

“MELINDA.”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!”

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?!” Jared says frantically. “Uh… yeah, I answered everytime!” I said, annoyed and weak. “No, you didn’t respond at all, your eyes glazed over and you sat slumped over,” he explains. I perk up and realize I just almost passed out. I immediately said, “Call the an ambulance,” and shut off the hot water and ran only the cold water—splashing myself with it over and over again until the shivering kept me wide awake. I was extremely pale from loss of blood and was now soaked, underwear and all, in the cold tub. On the bright side…my bleeding slowed down tremendously.

10:30pm- I felt better. EMTs came and I got out of the tub, put on some clothes and was escorted back to the chair where they checked my vitals. Jared had also called his mom to watch Eden in case I was taken to the hospital. Blood pressure was normal, heart seemed fine, no anemia, no history of illnesses, and I responded to all their questions and comments clearly and with plenty of wit. One of them said I appeared healthier than he was. Sounded like a good sign. Another said I looked like Emmy Rossum from Shameless. (Woohoo!) I felt significantly better. The other asked what I was told to do by my midwife. I told him and also mentioned that I thought I may have moved way too soon from the bathroom the first time and the amount blood loss took a toll on me. He said he was obligated to recommend I got to the hospital but that it was up to me since I clearly seemed to be past the worst of it. So I decided to stay home.

An hour goes by. 11:45pm, time to go change that pad. I’d eaten a bit and drank some. I felt confident enough to slowly walk to the bathroom with Jared. I sit and use the potty. Another large clot passes—not as big as the last, but definitely larger than an inch. Doesn’t seem to get worse from there and the bleeding is still very manageable. I stand, get cleaned up, and go wash my hands. As Jared tries to clean up what looks like a crime scene in the bathroom, I wash my hands with cold water. Then I feel faint again, so I lean against the sink and splash my face with cold water, squeezing my fists occasionally to check my own strength. Not feeling any better I call for Jared to help. He stands by and keeps talking to me, trying to splash water on my face, but only managing to get his wet, but warm hands on me. “That’s not helping, Jare, you’re not getting the cold water on me…”

“…Melinda, can you hear me?!”

I wake up on sitting on the floor of the bathroom and no clue how I got there. Jared has his arms wrapped around me. I immediately start praying for God to keep me awake. In between prayers and breaths I tell Jared to call the ambulance back. I pray again for God to keep me up. Out of breath I asked what happened. Jared said I passed out and slumped to the ground. He tried helping me come to by lightly slapping my cheeks. He also kept apologizing for that. I say, “It’s ok, I didn’t feel anything…I’ve gotta go to the hospital…last thing I remember…I was standing at the sink…Don’t remember getting down to the floor.”

Thankfully the same EMTs came back. They put me on a stretcher and Jared calls his mom (who had gone back home) to let her know he’s gotta take Eden over because I’m headed to the hospital. So I ride in the ambulance and chat it up with the EMTs, and get hooked up to an IV. It’s been quite a day for them. I’m sure I kept it exciting. They were really nice and didn’t seem the least bit bothered to have to come back. We reached the hospital and they wheeled me in. Then the real fun began…

12:00am- I’m taken to a hallway where I would remain for another 3 hours. Now I miss the curtained partition “room.” The nurses watch me get wheeled in and say to the EMTs, “Looks like you’re having one of THOSE nights too, huh?” You know…as if I don’t have the slightest grasp on the English language and accompanying vocal inflections. Anywho, I’m given warm blankets and just sit there and wait…and wait…and wait… Then FINALLY I’m checked in and asked what happened. More blood work. I’m hooked up to another contraption by the fingertip, probably something to check my pulse, and the IV I came in with. Not once have I been asked how I’m feeling. Thankfully, I’m by an outlet, so I plug my phone in. Then I wait…and wait some more. The Doctor finally comes by and introduces himself. Then someone has a heart attack in the adjacent hall behind me so he runs off as well as a few on-duty nurses and some nurse busybodies. Aaaand I wait some more. Jared finally gets to the hospital and I finally feel a bit of relief. But we have to wait again (expect to read more about waiting a lot).

1:45am- The doctor eventually comes back and apologizes for running off. He then asks (finally) how I’m doing and what happened. I tell him I pretty much fainted twice after an attempt to naturally deliver the baby I’ve miscarried. I told him I’ve lost a lot of blood and that I’m still bleeding, although not soaking my current pad. He tells one of the nurses to get a second IV on me and to get an EKG done and that depending on how much blood I’ve lost, I may need a blood transfusion. How they figure that out, I haven’t the slightest clue, since it’s not like they monitored my blood loss at any point during my hospital stay. And I thought I must’ve heard wrong because no second IV was added, nor was an EKG done. So we sat there waiting some more. I’d proven a patient patient; however, all this IVing had filled my bladder.

2am- I need to pee. Jared gets a nurse and she, having been there the entire time and heard what had happened to me (I mention this because there’s no excuse for her negligence), tells me to get up and walk to the bathroom down the hall, around the corner, down THAT hall and around ANOTHER corner again. Jared asks if she’s sure since I’ve passed out twice. She goes, “Yup. Just go slowly. He can walk you,” referring to Jared. And so they remove the bottom half of my clothing. I tell her “I’m still bleeding a lot, and it’s going to drip down my legs,” which couldn’t have mattered less to her. She put the IV in my hand and still made me walk with a blanket around my hips. As expected, blood comes down my legs in streaks as we walk. I squeeze Jared’s hand, start crying and say, “I’m scared, Papi. I’m scared of passing out again.” He tries his best to encourage me but he’s already furious that the stupid nurse made me walk. We get to the bathroom, and of course my disease-fearing self wants toilet paper on the toilet. But my bladder won’t wait, so I choose to squat with Jared’s assistance. Again as I pee, a large clot (bigger than an inch) comes out, and more, heavy bleeding happens. Squatting is hurting my legs and taking a lot out of me, so I stand as Jared helps me get toilet paper to clean myself. I decided to deal with any bloody mess that happens, later. Then I start feeling faint again. VERY faint. I tell Jared to get a nurse because I’m about to pass out. He opens the bathroom door, yells “Nurse! We need a nurse!” And I fade to black…

“…Melinda. Can you hear me?! Stay with me ok? Stay with me. I’m so sorry…”

Vision blurs back to me as I stare at a wall to my right. Apparently my eyes were open the entire time. I wake to faces above me holding my head. I’m on the bathroom floor (imagine my joy) with my head just under the sink area. I passed out again. This time, I fell as Jared was calling the nurses and he turned back in time to just catch my head before hitting the floor. The nurses sit me up and I ask how long I was out. Just a few seconds. I burst into panicked tears. I’m terrified at not remembering anything that happened to me. Their dull voices try to calm me, but don’t do much to ease my nerves and disgust from being on a bathroom floor. I wouldn’t even lie on my own bathroom floor if I let an inch deep of bleach soak into it. Ugh. They yell to get me some clothes as I’ve accrued an audience of rubberneckers and am essentially naked. I tell them, I don’t care, and to just get me up. The nurse that made me walk to the bathroom responds, “You may not care now, but you will later, so let’s get you covered up.” Side note: Weeks out and removed from the situation, I still don’t care that I was naked. I wanted off that floor. They cover me and put me on the stretcher and I cry as I tell them I’m scared of passing out again. Nurse Stupid decides to cover her butt by trying to convince me that I passed out because I “don’t like seeing my blood.” Yeah, because this girl who used to eat dinner while watching Trauma: Life in the ER where graphic wounds abounded is afraid of blood. This girl, who labored for 30+hrs, has experienced her own daughter be born, oh and has also seen her daughter tear her wide open in her delivery video multiple times, can’t handle the sight of blood. Please, continue enlightening me, Nurse Know-It-All. So I’m wheeled back to my hallway. Now blood flow is constant, I feel horribly disgusting, I’m given no pad to keep me clean, I’m bleeding through sheets, and sitting in a pool of my blood. Meanwhile, I’m having panic attacks and crying at random times for fear of passing out again. I’m also apologizing to Jared for putting him through this. He is a ROCK. He’s showing no hint of emotion. Rare for Jared. He’s beyond ticked.

2:30pm- The doctor comes back asks what happened, he’s informed, and then he asks why the second IV and EKG have not been done and to get on it. They finally get on it. He then tells me he is going to get someone to do an ultrasound on me and to not worry—that the worst that could happen to me is that I need a blood transfusion with the extreme amount of blood I’ve lost. And then leaves. How comforting. Then I start reflecting on Eden’s birth. Jared is thinking the same thing as I am. Why haven’t I been given Pitocin to slow or stop the bleeding?!?! I’m practically bleeding out and no one has even cared to keep track of how much I’ve been bleeding. Jared asks about whether or not someone will administer Pitocin for the bleeding. Nurse Stupid gives Jared an attitude and condescendingly replies with, “Wellllllllll, she DID just have a miscarriage. So she’s going to be bleeding--” NO ONE talks to my husband like that. So the Bronx came out…it was pretty pathetic this time though, given how I didn’t even have the strength to lift an arm let alone get enough air in my lungs to speak. I pretty much mustered up a whisper of my former self and cut her off. “Yeah well my last pregnancy, I wouldn’t stop bleeding and I was given a Pitocin shot to stop it. So…” Thankfully another nurse had just come on the scene and decided to ask about my last pregnancy. Nurse S walks off like her shift is over. It’s not. Oh how I wished it was.

*Warning: This part is graphic. It is real life, but it was hard to type, so I’m sure it will be hard to read. Being an adult who wants this story told, I’m pushing through. You’ve been warned.*

The new nurse finishes up with me and we wait for the ultrasound technician. It’s an elderly man. Great. As if I didn’t feel uncomfortable enough. He looked incompetent from far away, I could only imagine how this was going to go. I’m barely acknowledged while I’m wheeled into the ultrasound room. He does an external ultrasound. Jared and I ask about getting copies of these sonograms. He flat out ignored us or just couldn’t hear us. Either way makes it horrifying that he is working in this field. I ask again and he answers without so much as looking at me. Even the female nurse-witness that was attending looks at him like a freak. And then the internal ultrasound has to happen. Remember how the last time I did this, it wasn’t such a bad experience? No pain! Yeah? Well, think the opposite this time. At least the last time, the female technician, propped my hips up and allowed me full control of how the device was inserted to perform the ultrasound. And although uncomfortable, it was manageable. By the end of this experience, however, I wanted to scramble this guy’s insides. I’m propped up and he tells me to insert the device, only I’m not being given control. HE’S FORCING IT IN ON ME and hurting me in the process. I close my mouth tightly and try not to yelp in pain while squeezing Jared’s hand as I’m trying to slow the guy down with the little strength I have. Mind you, I’m already horribly blood soaked from having sat in my blood for about an hour, so this isn’t doing much to make me take it any better. All I could feel was blood pouring out of me while something was being forced inside me. I wept silently, whimpering every time the check became painful. (The last tech had mentioned that my ovaries are apparently very high, which requires deeper exploration.) I love my life. The entire time I kept thinking about women being raped. Wondering if this was how it felt. My husband was right there but I felt helpless, worthless, disgusting, and weak. Angry and wronged, and wanting nothing more than to vanish from the very predicament I was in. I felt like a dog. Why was this necessary? Wasn’t it obvious that I had more tissue in me that needed removal? He continued to examine my insides on the screen as he carelessly maneuvered the wand that scraped my already very swollen and raw cervix. I still cry thinking about it and typing it out, because no words can describe exactly how I felt other than degraded and violated. It was something I knew had to happen, but something I did not want to happen. At least not in this way.

3am- Out we go, back to my hallway. This time, I’m finally wheeled into a room. Double IVs means more frequent bladder needs. I tell Jared and of course, who’s available? Our very own Nurse S. Jared tells her of my need and she shoves a bedpan at him and goes, it slips right under her. And then she walks out. That’s it. Apparently, she lost her brain somewhere from her desk to the room and assumed Jared was getting paid to do this. I scooch for Jared and get the relief I need. Though my very dirt-conscious self wants to get off the stupid blood-soaked bed, I have to now lay back in it…this time, pee soaked as well. And so we wait. A new doctor comes in, and tells me he has to do an internal exam. I must be the luckiest girl in the world tonight, I thought. So, doctor and Nurse S perform the exam. The dreaded speculum is inserted, the swab is used in my tender cervix and these scholars find out that I do indeed have more tissue that remains to be removed. There aren’t enough “shake my head” .gifs on the planet to show my mood. It just felt like more unnecessary violation due to protocol. Not a single care for the patient herself as a hurting human being that has been through enough trauma.

3:30am- So I’m waiting in my new room with Jared and the doctor comes in to tell us that he suggests that I have a D&C done and that there may be a chance that I need a blood transfusion, but he’s waiting on that decision. He also tells me that because of how profusely I bleed, the pill (Cytotec) used to expel the rest of the tissue over a period of a few days, could very well cause me to hemorrhage and bleed out. In other words, I’d die if I took Cytotec. Nice. He then runs through the risks of the D&C: Laceration of the uterine walls, causing pregnancy difficultly, infertility, hemorrhaging in which case they would need to perform a blood transfusion or cut me open at my abdomen and perform a complete hysterectomy. Thankfully none of this scared me because I took it upon myself to research the risks and their probabilities the night before. I was willing to take the risks to get out of this hellish valley of death. I signed my life away, and was taken to pre-op.

4am- I’m taken through a few halls and possibly an elevator (I can’t quite remember) and then to the pre-operating room where they get me prepped for surgery. It was like getting carted into heaven. It was the quietest room. So very peaceful, away from the obnoxious nurses. In fact, the two nurses that took care of me were phenomenal. They were like angels from above. One was a tall soft-spoken blonde woman and the other was a tall heavy-accented Haitian man. They were sweet as can be and sympathetic to my loss. I also had to pee like 5 times while there. Not once did the female nurse ask Jared to do any of the work. She handled it all and even gave me baby wipes to clean myself up with after. They worked quietly and efficiently. Thank the sweet Lord Jesus for having mercy on me and allowing me to be the only person getting prepped at that time because I got all the attention.

4:30am- I told Jared I loved him and was whisked off to the operating room where I prayed for the Lord to bless the hands of the doctors, to comfort Jared, and to watch over him and Eden should anything happen to me. They administered the anesthetic to put me under and pressed on my throat to insert the tracheal intubation. I was out before I realized what was happening.

5:30am- I wake up from what felt like a long nap and immediately I feel like I’m hacking out a lung because of how dry my throat is. It hurt more than my throat had ever hurt before, and was drier than it had ever been. Of course, I’m given nothing but ice chips although I’m dying for ice cream drenched in honey, and I actually hate the flavor of honey. I’m also very hungry, however I’m not allowed to eat until the doctor sees me. Oh yeah, and that took 4 more HOURS. Meanwhile at some point I know I said something to Jared like, “I never want to get pregnant ever again.”

9am- Doctor finally shows his face. The pre-op room is packed with people getting ready and recovering from surgery. What? Is he the only doctor doing surgeries? Sheesh… Anyway, he tells me my hemoglobin levels are still low but that he thinks I’m okay to leave. That’s doctor speak for, “We’re crowding and you need to go.” He asks if I have any other questions but really was praying I didn’t. I did however. And every time he answered I had a new one, but he kept trying to leave as I asked the questions. Dude, get your careless self over here and answer my questions! I get them asked and answered and am escorted out via wheelchair. And what do I find when I pull off the covers? I’M CLEAN! CLEAN BED, CLEAN SHEETS, GIVEN A PAD, NEW UNDIES, YES! THANK YOU JESUS FOR YOUR MERCIES ARE NEW EVERY MORNING!

9:30/10am- I was ready to see my little baby, who slept through it all at Grandma and Pop-pop’s house, thankfully. She sure was a sight for sore eyes. Needless to say, I was put on bed rest. Bathroom trips were slow and accompanied for a while. And I was just glad to be home where I could actually sleep on my own terms!

More traumatic for me than a miscarriage, was the “care” (lack thereof, really) at the hospital. The good staff were few and far in between the callous and careless staff. But really the entire hospital experience just confirmed my thoughts on maternity care in this country. HORRENDOUSLY HANDLED, POORLY MANAGED, and JUST SAD.

So that’s my story. It’s not a rainbows and unicorn tale of overcoming adversity, but it was a necessary one to tell. Too many women see miscarriage as a taboo word used to describe an even more taboo life event. 20-30% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. It needs to stop being taboo, and needs to start becoming something as easily discussed as pregnancy itself. There is no shame in it. I don’t understand this shame everyone talks about. There is great strength in talking to other women who have been there. And it doesn’t need to be a secret club. Sure, it is a loss of precious life, and can be devastating, but it should never make us retreat to rooms, cry and remain in seclusion over it. I boldly tell my story and that may come as a shock to some people. I’m not in denial, I’m in reality. I was blessed by God with a pregnancy, and I was dealt a blow by an imperfect life. It hurt, but I was still my child’s mother for 12 weeks. It was a beautiful 12 weeks. And 12 weeks was what was ordained by God. He is never wrong, and always does for the good of those who love Him. God knew it all, saw it all, and still blesses through it all.

The Lord gave, and He has taken away. Blessed be His Name! (Job 1:21)