If you have not read part one of this series, I urge you to please go back and read it before you read this one. God has given us a story, a hard, but beautiful story, and it is best told from the beginning.
After we lost our first child, we were still very hopeful. I heard over and over again how common miscarriage was, and how many women have one and go on to have lots of healthy, happy children. While we grieved for our little one in heaven, we thought that certainly our next pregnancy would be a healthy one.
Our doctor told us that since we had a natural miscarriage, and my levels were back down, that I only needed to wait one month before trying again. Just like with the first, we got pregnant right away. When I saw that positive test I was so excited. I felt like I should be nervous or scared, but I wasn’t. I was just so happy to have another baby. It felt so strange having “two kids” now. In just two months we had gone from having no kids to two, even though we wouldn’t see one of them until we got to heaven.
My biggest fear about being pregnant again was not that we would lose the baby, but that our family and friends would not be as excited. I was scared people would think “since they lost the last baby we’ll wait and see if this one is actually going to last before we get excited.” I dreaded that response. Some friends asked if I would be more guarded, if it would be hard for me to get attached to this baby since we lost the last one. This question broke my heart. I COULDN’T be less excited. Of course I wouldn’t guard my heart. This was my CHILD. Our last baby, though we were only together for 2 weeks, was MY CHILD. I was this baby’s mother, it’s ONLY mother. If I don’t love this baby with all my heart, who will? Austin and I may be the only love this baby ever gets in it’s short time on Earth. Every baby, born or unborn, healthy or sick, wanted or unwanted, deserves to be loved. I was not going to let fear keep my baby from being loved. I wanted so badly for everyone else to love my baby as much as I did.
To tell the truth, people were less excited. A few people reacted the way we wanted them to, but most people, while they were excited, were more guarded, more skeptical, more concerned. That was extremely hard for us. There were none of the squeals and giggles that came with the first pregnancy announcement. Austin had to constantly remind me that unless someone had experienced this for themselves, they could not understand how we felt. We had to have grace. As long as we loved our baby, and Jesus loved our baby, that would be enough.
My doctor had me come in for blood tests right away. The prayer was that my hormone levels would be up and rising at a healthy rate. While we waited, I was determined to love the livin’ daylights out’a that baby! I read the baby storybooks, I sang sweet lullabies, I cuddled and snuggled. We cleared out the nursery, picked our paint color and started getting everything ready. I thought loving our baby meant getting everything ready for when it came.
When the test results came back, we were once again crushed. Our baby had already passed away. Where my body once held life, it now held death. On Christmas Day 2013, our second baby left us.
This time was different. This time our grief over losing a second child was overshadowed by fear. Fear that this would be our lives. Fear that I could never carry a healthy child. Fear that we would never hold biological children. I think the loss of our second baby was much harder for Austin. When the moment came that our second baby left us that Christmas afternoon, we spent an hour in a parking lot in tears processing as best we could what we were experiencing. One night, Austin took Kipper out back before bed and ended up holding him in a chair at 10:00 at night yelling at God, crying, and scaring the dog. We felt the loss and fear together. I didn’t feel alone anymore. We were both scared. We were both grieving. We were both hurting. We were together. Throughout all of it, as we drew closer to the Lord, we also drew closer to each other.
Typically, doctors won’t do any testing until you’ve had three miscarriages. My doctor did not want us to go through any more pain if it could be avoided. So, she ran a lot, I mean a LOT, of blood tests. All of which came back perfectly fine. Nothing looked wrong at all.
My doctor felt that since the first pregnancy happened right after we got off birth control, and the second happened so close to the first, that perhaps all we needed was a little time to heal and let my hormones get settled. She told us to wait a few months…to wait until May. May! My first baby was due in June! And now we couldn’t even try again until May?! I was SUPPOSED to be holding my newborn baby in June, not trying to get pregnant again.
I knew God was trying to teach me something. Something I didn’t want to be taught. Something about surrender. He asked me if I would be ok if He told me He didn’t want us to have any children. I couldn’t say yes. For a long time I couldn’t say yes.
Then He used another sweet hymn to speak to my heart and remind me that my life is not my own. He reminded me that from life’s first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny. He reminded me that until He returns, or calls me home, I was to stand in the power of Christ.