Any surgeries in the last year?
Oh, I’m so sorry.
And, with that my podiatrist’s medical assistant left the exam room.
And, that’s all it took for the tears to build. I knew I only had five minutes, at the most, to furiously blink to dry my eyes. I cleared my throat and sat up straight. I was not going to cry to my podiatrist as he looked at my fractured foot. No, I was not going to give in to the tears. I was not going to look at the calendar. Nope. Not Happening. Not today.
But, it happened. I thought about the milestones that would have been met by now. I thought about how big my belly would be. I thought about the Halloween costumes we would have purchased. I thought about the “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament that I wanted on our tree. I thought about my babies. Babies.
Then I cried. I sat in a restroom stall at work and cried. After a few minutes, I pulled out my bag and re-applied my makeup. Then, I sat for a few more minutes to let the redness on my face subside a bit. And, finally, I stood up and limped back to my desk. I hate my boot. I then proceeded to be in a terrible mood for the next few hours and I blamed it all on my foot. My foot and this stupid boot.
And, then I talked to my Jesus.
So, there I am in my front yard. Walking around the yard with a bottle of ant bait and it hits like the acorns that squirrels throw when you get too close to their stash in your garden. . .I look like my father right now.
One of the most vivid memories of my dad from when I was growing up was seeing him walk around our property with white powder ant bait and spreading it. He did this nearly every evening or at least it felt as if it was every evening. He would simply walk, inspect, and spread the bait. That image is permanently in my memories. It’s the moments that seem to be the most minute that stick with you, huh?
“. . .We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed. . .”
1 Corinthians 4:8-9
So, there I am cruising down Rivers Avenue during afternoon rush hour on the first week of school being back in session. Okay, just kidding, I wasn’t cruising down Rivers. I was doing more of a sloppy salsa basic – you go forward, no I go forward, wait why are you actually backing up to me – with the truck in front of me, but you get the idea.
Back to it, I’m cruising and then the aha moment comes upon me. I’m doing pretty okay today. If you know our story, you know that we’ve had multiple miscarriages during our relationship and being okay is a pretty big deal. It’s not to say that I still don’t have moments of sadness or throw a pillow out of frustration at my husband’s head. Sorry, babe.
It does mean that embracing victories, even the smallest ones, deserves a satisfactory nod when I look in the mirror. Here are my recent victories. . .
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
It’s been two weeks. I’m still working through my grief.
The denial only lasted a few hours. Was she sure there wasn’t a heartbeat?
The anger still peaks it’s nasty head out every now and then. Why didn’t you intercede?
The bargaining mirrors an addict begging for one more taste. Lord, just give me a baby and we’ll share your good works with him. Just one baby.
The depression still lingers. I walk into the nursery every morning and just let the tears fall.
And, acceptance. There’s nothing I can do to change it, so I simply accept our loss and tuck away all baby items into a plastic tote until we see our future baby’s heartbeat once again.
While this is all still happening, I’ve asked him questions. . .
Lord, you are my God;
I will exalt you and praise your name,
for in perfect faithfulness
you have done wonderful things,
things planned long ago.
These last few days have been challenging. It still feels as if we are in a haze. In some moments, this entire situation feels so surreal that I think I’ll wake up in bed and see that the clock says it’s 3:30 a.m. Yet, I know it’s real. Reality strikes me when I least expect it. I find an ultrasound in my Bible. I see my internet history and find the baby registry we were starting. I find the pair of booties that we used in our announcement. Little reminders that lead to big feelings.
In it all, we have been held in the hands of our God by being lifted by family, church family and friends. In it all, we have found a new trust in God and his timing. In it all, we are beginning to see that He has taken this loss and turned it into a part of His plan.