The Lord Understands

   It's interesting and it's sad all at once. As common as miscarriages are, so few people understand or even try. Today was supposed to be my first doctor appointment. We should have heard the baby's heartbeat today. Instead as I was leaving the office I heard someone else's baby's heartbeat. And it hurt. I am so happy for them that it hurt. People look at me and just see someone that was almost pregnant. But I was pregnant. I had life inside me if only for a few weeks.
   The woman at the WIC counter didn't even care. I said that I had miscarried so we can cancel the pregnant woman's appointment I had scheduled. She just looked at me blankly and said that they had never officially put it in the computer. Like I was the one being ridiculous. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted her to attempt to understand the pain. But I just rescheduled Joshua's appointment and moved on.
   The medicaid lady was all numbers. She wanted to be comforting. She said, "I knooow hun. I knooow." I think she just didn't know how to get business done and talk to a human being at the same time.  It hadn't even occurred to me that Medicaid for pregnant women wouldn't have a plan for miscarriages. Is our society so caught up in wanting to kill our babies that they just don't think women who have miscarriages need any help? The woman tried to graze over it, but there on the paperwork it grouped miscarriage in with abortion. Like it was the same thing. Abortion was even the main word. Miscarriage was in parenthesis, like an afterthought. Like it was the same thing. I wanted to shout at her that I wanted my baby. That a part of me had died when that ER doctor told me I was having a miscarriage. I wanted to call whoever made that stupid paper and yell at them until I no longer had a voice.
   Heavenly Father is still with me. And I think it's what saved these people from my grief. Thinking about it now, I know that their mixed reactions are normal. They don't know. They have no idea. They don't know how to touch the sadness in my heart and they probably don't want to. It's a nightmare that changes you forever and people are scared of that. Because usually it's a negative change. Usually it chips away at your heart until you can't feel anything but the loss.
   A few days ago I felt ready to ask Pinterest for the world of experiences that millions have shared. Some of it touched my heart and healed me just a little. Some of it stated gracefully things that will always be a part of me now. One was beautiful, simple, and short. It just said, "I will always wonder who you would have been." But mostly there was pain. So much pain. The resounding note was a bitterness that I find difficult to describe. I cried for them and I cried because I know that without Heavenly Father that is where I would be. It is so easy to go to that place. I continually feel it close by, a constant option. But I know that I can take my questions to the Lord. I know that He is with me, and all I need to do is reach out and I am once again on a path of healing. I have never felt and seen so clearly how the choice is truly ours. To choose the comfort of the Lord, or "endless misery and woe".
   I'm still sore. My body is so tired and sore. Between my appointments this morning and Joshua's shots this afternoon, I was already wiped out and I could have slept for hours. But shots don't work that way. They are tough. So I had a short nap while Jacob was home and before Joshua really got bad. He just cried and cried. He wouldn't take a bottle. He did eat some dinner, so that was good. I used some essential oils on him, and he loves those. We gave him a little Melatonin. Before long he had cried himself to sleep while I rocked him. Hopefully it's a restful sleep and his body can deal with the shots. I just checked on him and he seems to be sleeping soundly and comfortably.
   That is always what I revert to. I don't think it's a bad thing, but I think it is interesting. I can only handle all of this in phases. Most of the time I'm glad that normal life keeps going on with or without me. I can put my pain and grief in a little spot in my soul and take care of myself and my family. And when I need to take it out and deal with a piece of it I do. I don't try to muffle it. I think that's important and that it's what the Lord wants me to do.
 

We Almost Had A Baby.

   I don't want to post this on Facebook.
   I don't want 30 different people knocking on our door or messaging me asking if they can help or asking me questions in general.
   I just want to remember. I want a piece of this to show my daughters when they go through this. So they know how very much I know what they are going through. I want to show my sons when their wives are crying and they don't know how to help them.

   It hurts. I knew that though. I knew that miscarriages hurt. I knew that they hurt physically and they hurt emotionally. But I didn't really know. There is no way to prepare for this.
   I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. I can't explain why. There were signs of course, but they could have been just as likely to be perfectly normal. It's just a feeling I kept having that I kept waving away like a fly I didn't want to deal with. I finally said something on Monday night when my fever spiked and I suddenly had the flu. I looked at Jacob and I said I didn't feel right. I felt like something was wrong.
   I cried a lot last night. I knew before the Doctor even said it, but it hit me just as hard anyway. They gave us a moment, and Jacob gave me a blessing. How grateful I am for that blessing! Right as I thought I was going to lose it, it was like I heard God begging me to take His hand. I felt Him place angels to hold me up. It doesn't take the pain away, but I can wrap my head around it. I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for me. This is just an incredibly painful part of that plan. It reminds of the analogy of the clay pot. Or was it a kettle? Regardless, it's clay. It goes through and immense amount of manhandling and heat in order to become what the artist always wanted it to be. Beautiful. Perfect. Let's just say that I'm being molded.

   There is a lot to do. A lot of family to tell. Insurance to notify. And who knows if I will be able to. The pain of the contractions is getting worse. Maybe I should take more pain medication after all.
   I have my to do list. I feel at this point that I just want to get through this painful experience. I don't want to dwell, I want to just be in it. Let myself cry when I need to cry. Let myself be slow when I can't handle going any faster. Let myself be quiet when I need quiet. I'll get through this as long as I hang on to my Heavenly Father. I can feel Him hanging on to me for dear life.