The first and only time I saw the baby was in the emergency room. The ultrasound technician was using a scope and the monitor was turned enough my way that I could see everything.
I saw the most precious silhouette...a perfectly formed head, little nose, little chin, tiny torso...and no heartbeat.
This wasn't my first rodeo; being baby number three I had seen my share of ultrasounds, and I was well aware that there should have been a quickly beating glowing thing shouting "I'm alive". There was nothing there.
I knew. I knew right away. I looked at the technician and said, "there's no heartbeat". She sadly shook her head and told me she was going to get the doctor.
My tears began to flow and I whispered, "the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away...blessed be the name of the Lord."
The thing is, the Lord had given this baby at a time when I wasn't too excited to receive it. We had two little girls already and they were proving to be quite the challenge. I had finally lost my baby weight and was feeling svelte and we were getting beyond the terrible toddler years...and, well, this baby seemed a tad inconvenient.
I had never, ever, never, never thought of abortion; but I did think of how sucky it was to start the ride all over again. By ride I mean morning sickness that never stops, naps that don't feel restful, round ligament pain, weight gain, sore backs, sleepless nights...there didn't seem anything thrilling to look forward to and I was mad.
Have I offended anyone yet?
6 weeks in I had the initial "yep, you're preggers" appointment and I heard the heartbeat. 8 weeks in I was barfing more than a bulimic showgirl (I actually don't know how much they barf, it just seemed an interesting comparison), but the sickness was easier than with my other two and I was a bit concerned. I went to my OB/GYN and he heard the heartbeat and told me all seemed well. By around 11 or 12 weeks I was sitting outside in the early spring air, watching my little daughters chasing each other around a tree, when I had a vision of a third child in the mix. I could hear three giggles, I could see three sets of dancing eyes.
It was then that I not only came to terms with having a third child, but truly embraced the idea. A week later I began to bleed.
After the horrendous ER visit (re: catheterized by Mo and Curly) I went to see my OB. He was very empathetic and truly sorry; and then he told me something that truly horrified me.
Based on the size of the baby, having been examined during the procedure I underwent, it was very likely the baby died at nine weeks gestation - a week after my concern over lack of sickness...the last time I would hear the heart. So, for 4 weeks I had carried around the body of my dead child. While sick, while planning, while embracing the life coming...the child was already dead.
I was truly heartbroken. Truly just...broken.
Was it something I had done? Was it because I wasn't happy about having another? I'd had an MRI a few weeks before conceiving, was there latent MRI-iness in me?
A few days afterward I drove myself to the mall and parked way back in the parking garage and poured my brokenness out before God. I asked all the questions most people ask when staring down grief, but I had no big heavenly-voiced reply.
I did have consolation though. From my husband, my church family, and from my oldest daughter. Then four years old, we were cuddling as I put her to bed; she reached up and stroked my face and said, "I'm sorry your baby died."
Me too.
Comfort can not be appreciated more by those who are grieving. For the most part we aren't really looking for answers or cheap one-liners about God's will and Better places; we just want the hugs and the "I'm really sorry"...that's all.
Interestingly enough, days later, God Almighty comforted me in a way I would never have expected. As a believer in Jesus I am comforted to know that my death will usher me into Heaven...but what about my baby?
One afternoon I had my regularly scheduled bible study time while the girls were napping. As I was making my lunch to munch while studying a bunch, I heard this little voice whisper to my heart: "I have a word for you from Psalm 8".
Psalm 8, huh? Mmm...okay.
Sitting down to my bible, I opened to Psalm 8:
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth
You have set your glory in the heavens.
Through the praise of children and infants you have established a strong hold
against your enemies, to silence the foe and avenger.
As I read that line about children and infants, the Father whispered again "Your baby is with me, praising me."
My bible still has tear stains.
While I won't know until heaven why this baby went there first, I will know the comfort our Compassionate God had for his heartbroken daughter, and I will know I can rely on that comfort again should brokenness revisit in the future.
Christina
