Part One is here. Part Two is here. Part Three is here. And now I'm finally getting around to finishing the saga...
If I could sum up my reaction to this miscarriage in one word, it would be this:
disappointed.
It's true, I am very disappointed that my maternity clothes will stay packed away, my due date of March 1 will come and go with no recent or impending delivery, and no tiny newborn will rest in my arms. But thankfully, I am not the other "D" word.
Devastated.
I am so exceedingly blessed by the four children who sleep under my roof tonight--
and by all the other blessings God has lavished upon me. So, no, I am not devastated. My grief comes in small waves and is quickly soothed by the knowledge of God's infinitely-higher-than-mine knowledge and power and love.
One thing I'm learning is that trusting God in the matter of having children means accepting His "no" or "not yet" just as humbly and joyfully as His "yes." I don't know how many times I've told myself--and other women--that God is the one who opens and closes the womb. Now I'm hearing those words come back to remind me of an important truth: (to paraphrase Job 2:10) shall we accept an open womb from the Lord, but not a closed one?
Those who have known us for a few years (and those who read my first post about this miscarriage) know that Shav was from an unplanned pregnancy, and I'm afraid that there are those who might assume that this pregnancy was the same. "Another oops, Davene?" For some reason, it's important to me that my friends know that this pregnancy was not "an accident" and that this child was much-anticipated and much-desired.
We wanted five children.
In some ways though, the miscarriage was easy. Not only had we felt cautious from the beginning and so had not gotten our hopes all the way up, but also physically it was without incident, so much so that I didn't even call the midwives right away. I first realized I was miscarrying on Saturday, July 2, but then came Sunday and then Monday which was a holiday so the office was closed. By that Tuesday, it was very obvious to me what was going on in my body; and because things were going so routinely, I didn't even feel the need to go in to be checked. It wasn't until my dad talked to my uncle who had heard about my miscarriage from my aunt who heard about it from my blog and Facebook that the word "Rhogam" came into my consciousness. "Davene is rh-negative," my uncle said. "She needs to get the Rhogam shot!"
Why didn't I think of that?! I've had that shot so many times that I really should have remembered it, but it had not once crossed my mind. Uh oh.
First thing on that Monday morning after the conversation with my dad (July 18, to be exact), I called into SWHC and explained the situation to a very kind nurse, who after checking with a midwife, advised me to come in for some bloodwork and the Rhogam shot. I was happy to do that, arrived there in the early afternoon, held out my arm, and let the blood flow. No problem. But then, after a discussion with several nurses, the lab technician, and the on-call midwife, we decided that it was really too late for the Rhogam shot to be effective (I was, after all, 16 days past the onset of bleeding, whereas it's recommended that Rhogam be given within 72 hours). The midwife advised instead that I come back the first week of August to have my blood drawn to be tested to see if my body has started producing the antibodies which could cause problems in a future pregnancy.
So. Now I wait. Sometimes patiently, sometimes impatiently. What will that blood test reveal? I'm hoping that it will show that my body has not produced those harmful-to-a-future-baby antibodies; the midwife said this result is the most likely, since the miscarriage happened so early. It would be wonderful if that were the case!
But if not, what then? From what I gathered, it gets a little complicated at that point. It depends on how many antibodies the mother's body is producing...and something about titers...and the father's blood...and trips over the mountain to a bigger hospital for further testing...and so on... But I don't need to cross that bridge until I come to it, so I'm striving to wait serenely until we get the results of my August blood test. "Striving" being the operative word, because as much as I'm trying to heed Jesus's instruction in Matthew 6:34 to not worry about tomorrow, I'll admit that my thoughts race ahead: "Will I ever have another child? I'm really sad to think that my child-bearing years might have ended with a miscarriage. God, could You please just give me one more baby?"
The other consequence of the miscarriage that was challenging was a general sense of being unfocused and drifting. When I found out I was pregnant, I quickly began to make mental plans: "OK, if I'm due the first of March, I think it might be a good idea for us to go ahead and start school extra early this year. Maybe we could start the middle of July, at least with some subjects. That would give us plenty of wiggle room in our schedule to take off as much time as we want to when the baby is born..." After the miscarriage, rather than rejoicing that I still had plenty of summer vacation left, I felt a little lost and found it hard to dive into any household projects or outings or planning for school or
anything with much enthusiasm.
I didn't have a grand plan for when or how to tell the boys that I had been pregnant but had lost it, but the opportunity presented itself one day when either Josiah or David happened to bring up my first miscarriage. Seizing the chance to tell them, I gathered them around me on the living room couch (I think Tobin and Shav were playing in the living room, but didn't pay any attention to us!) and quickly and simply informed them of the recent events I had gone through. Both Josiah and David were very sympathetic, a little sad, but mostly excited about the thought of someday having another little sibling. When the oft-spoken comment "I want a little sister!" was heard, I repeated my standard answer, "You'll have to talk to God about that!" :) Josiah, knowing
the very basics about reproduction, got the funny look on his face that he always gets when the subject comes up, leaned over close to my ear, and whispered conspiratorially, "Can you try again?" Rather than the hundred other responses that raced through my head, I simply smiled and said, "Yes." But inside I was thinking, "How sweetly naive he is. I don't mind at all that, at this stage of his life, he knows that marital intimacy is for reproduction, but doesn't know that it's also for pleasure...and that husbands and wives do it for more than just making a baby." ;-)
Then David, who had been silent for a moment, piped up and asked, "Do you feel pregnant yet?"
"No!" I laughed.
"Well," he said by way of explanation, "I already prayed about it!"
If only answers to prayer came that quickly, David Dear... ;-)
This is probably obvious to most of you, but the title of this series of posts comes from Proverbs 13:12:
Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
The
dictionary tells me that "deferred" means "postponed or delayed, suspended or withheld for or until a certain time or event." How thankful I am that, though my hope is
deferred, it is not
destroyed.
This summer, I've unexpectedly experienced the first part of this verse. Only God knows whether the second half will ever be fulfilled in the way I imagine. But tonight, I'm content to leave that knowledge in His hands.
