If you’re just joining this series you’re entering my infertility story right after round one of clomid and a resulting miscarriage in the 10th week of pregnancy. You can start from the beginning of the story by clicking here or going to the tab at the top titled Infertility Story. For those who are regularly following along, I apologize for the delay in getting the posting out so late this week.
Recovery from Loss
It took 40 days for my cycle to return after the D & C and D & E. They were the worst 40 days I had ever experienced. Up until this point in my life I hadn’t experienced loss, death, or tragedy in any really personal form. I was so young back then, that my 20 something self was still relatively untouched by trials and tragedies. The loss of our baby was the first time I had been faced with any kind of tragedy and it crushed me.
I was reminded by our loss at every turn with baby bumps surrounding me, newborns cooing, family members announcing pregnancies and then…my milk started to come in. It was almost too unbelievable to be real. How could my milk come in? But it was, and is, apparently, normal (or at least not uncommon).
Depression started to envelope me when the Doctor called and said it was time to try again. I could barely walk through the door. I almost didn’t care anymore. But divine intervention was at work here because it was exactly the day to start treatment again (treatments are timed on your cycle day). So I made an appointment for that day and got the clear to begin clomid (ovulation medication) that night. I navigated the night sweats and nausea, shots of progesterone and endless ultrasounds once more and hoped for the best.
29 days later, Positive. We were pregnant again.
With our first pregnancy I was determined not to let fear (of loss and uncertainty) grip me and we shared our news immediately. I didn’t want to let others’ experiences with miscarriage paralyze me with fear and I shared our news joyfully and fearlessly. But loss had touched me now. We knew what loss felt like. We knew what being out of control felt like. My mister wanted to share our news and be bathed in prayer. My insides churned with the terror of sharing our joy and the possibility of having to take it back.
That’s what if felt like… taking back joy. I had to tell so many people we had lost the baby. I know it was ultimately my joy to be pregnant but with every “I hate to break the news” I felt the pain of ripping away their joy. The sadness I could see in their eyes, mirroring my own, was defeating.
I was pregnant and full of fear. I was excited but found it hard to breathe. I was emotionally crazy.
If you ask my husband, he’ll tell you I was a basket case. I was. I called the doctor’s office every other day to get my hormone counts (and they call YOU, but I couldn’t wait for them to call…so I called as soon as the lab opened). I broke out in a cold sweat when we waited for another 5 week ultrasound. I hated going to the bathroom for fear of evidence of another loss. I was consumed with fear.
What I’ve learned (and have only just recently figured out)
I didn’t trust God anymore. Somewhere deep down I felt like he didn’t have my best interest at heart to have me go through infertility and then to lose our baby. How could he do that to me? Why would he do that to me?
Even though I would have screamed from the roof tops that I didn’t care what was wrong with the baby, that I was strong enough to handle it, that my (our) love was strong enough to cover any obstacles, our God knows better. He loves stronger. He is more merciful than I ever could be. It is not my business to know the mind of God and as much as I have questions I know that he is supreme. He took that baby to save me, him, us from long term struggles and heartache.
Even though I could tell myself all those TRUTHS at the time, I guess I didn’t really trust them in my heart. I wasted so much time believing the lie. The enemy got right into my head and pulled a Garden of Eden trick on me. I believed the lie that God didn’t have my best interest at heart. It took me 11 years to realize this fact. You see, I’ve just realized that I’ve been in bondage for these 11 years. That my heart was filled with distrust and a bit of anger at God (and it affected my relationship with Him as well as spiritual growth).
Being a Christian woman I never considered that my heart was so burdened because it seemed ridiculous to feel such things toward God. But IT DIDN’T MAKE IT ANY LESS TRUE. I didn’t trust Him. I was angry at Him. And I carried those two things deep in my heart every day for the last 11 years. Thankfully, I’ve been delivered from that baggage/bondage and I pray that if you’re facing the same issues (regardless of our different trials) that you will be free of them sooner than the 11 years of captivity that they held me.
More of the story next week…
Thanks for making it to the blog today. I share about my story once a week.Please return next week for the continuation of my infertility story. You can start from the beginning of the story by clicking here or going to the tab at the top titled Infertility Story.