Judah's Story

It came as a surprise. And as quickly as we had accepted it, it was gone.

I knew I was pregnant the moment I walked into the grocery store for apples and bananas and walked out with a box of oranges instead. Oranges are my cheap pregnancy test, when I like them, I'm pregnant. When I don't, I'm not. A pregnancy test confirmed it. I am pregnant! I remember peeing on the stick, not looking at it and placing it on the counter. I prayed to God, placing the results in his hands. If this is what He envisioned, then let it be so. Just give us peace about it.  Two minutes later, I picked up the test, took a deep breath, and saw two lines staring back at me. We were pregnant with our third child! We were surprised by the realization. It was not something we were planning, nor could we figure out when it happened. One night, Dan and I sat down with a calendar to try and figure out when we conceived. Nothing was adding up. But we didn't care. Surprise turned to excitement and research. What would life be like with three little ones? How would we handle a three and a half year old, a two year old and a newborn baby? What is the best configuration for car seats? How do you go grocery shopping?  All of these trivial day to day things with three kids seemed overwhelming. But somehow we would make it work. We started to picture what life would be like with three little ones.  We knew it would be hard, but we were excited.

But as quickly as it came. It was gone. I suspected things might be headed south when I was peeling an orange for the kids and it churned my stomach. It didn't smell good (and that's not normal). But maybe things are different for this pregnancy, I rationalized. I really started to suspect things were wrong when the "suspected" six week mark came and I wasn't throwing up (with both previous pregnancies, I began throwing up at exactly six weeks). But I didn't want to believe that this was happening. My energy was high, but maybe I'm just healthier this time, I hoped. It was none of these things. My HCG (the pregnancy hormone) levels were low- only a 17. A seventeen symbolizes three to four weeks along in the pregnancy. But perhaps my dates were wrong. Maybe we conceived later. A test four days later and my levels were 19. They are supposed to double every 24 hours. My heart dropped. Its true. I am having a miscarriage.

We were in shock. Something that surprised us only a few weeks ago, was surprising us again. Our surprise and excitement has turned to sadness and grief. We are in disbelief. There was nothing we could have done to prevent this. Miscarriage is common. And although miscarriage is something that happens to woman all the time, it is not a common thing to me. This is my first miscarriage and will hopefully be my last. And it sucks.

Emotionally, we are coping. We have periods of sadness. We spend time crying and mourning. We have been surrounded by great friends and family who are supporting us through this ordeal.

Physically, having a miscarriage has been tough. My hormones have spent time believing they are pregnant and that they have just given birth. I am exhausted. Walking down the hall leaves me winded. My hormones have been out of control. The morning after we got our second set of HCG levels, and we realized that we were miscarrying, I was a hormonal mess. The kids would look at me and I would yell. I was almost uncontrollably angry. I admit, I wish I could erase that morning from my memory. I yelled at my kids more than I care to admit. I know it was the hormones. I just wish I didn't have to deal with that. Following that morning, was a very tearful afternoon. Dan was telling me about his day, as tears streamed down my face. I couldn't control the sadness. I collapsed into Dan's arms heaving and crying. Yes, I was sad, but this was uncontrollable. I couldn't stop the tears if I tried. I have to admit, that the hormones have been the worst part of this whole situation. I can deal with the loss. I can deal with my emotions. But the hormones.....they suck. I don't think I was prepared for them.

The next day, I woke up and the bleeding had began. There is nothing quite like staring at pieces of your unborn child's lifeline escaping your body. At least the hormones had leveled out a bit.

A few days later, I went to my ultrasound. It was scheduled a few days after my positive pregnancy test. It was supposed to date our pregnancy. This was the day we would find out when our baby would join our family. Perhaps we would get to hear the baby's heartbeat. It was a day Dan and I were looking forward to. Instead, I sat in that waiting room alone. Barely holding myself together. I was surrounded by pregnant ladies, some larger than others. Excitement filled their faces, but mine was full of grief. My technician seemed hard of listening. I repeated told her that I had miscarried, yet she kept asking me if I was excited about my pregnancy, what number baby this was, and the kicker, to have a good day. Did she not just probe my empty womb? Didn't I see her face fall to that stoic expression when she failed to see a baby in my uterus? But have a good day. I'll try lady. I held myself together enough to get to the van before I imploded in a heap of tears. There was nothing left. I cried until I could cry no longer. Then I drove home to relieve Gran-Gran of her babysitting duties.

Right now, we are coping. We take it day by day. This is our first experience and we may look back at it and wonder how we coped or we may look back and wonder why it was such a big deal. But we are doing what we feel is right for our family as we cope with something that is new to us. We have never dealt with this before, so we have chosen to deal with it in this manner.

Writing is therapeutic for me. So I write. We went to listen to music at the church the other night. It soothed our souls.

One day shy of two weeks. That's all we had. From the moment we discovered this pregnancy, to the moment we found out that it was no longer. Its not long. The baby was only the size of a lentil. But there is a part of me that doesn't want to forget this little life that we had. For our own healing purposes, we've decided to name this child. I don't want these two weeks to be forgotten. I've told Dan, that if we name this child, it will be etched in my memory. I can call this baby by name. I can remember that it wasn't a situation, but a life. (Yes, I may look back at this wonder why it was so important to me, but it is right now. And I'm going to name this child, so I can cope with the situation we are facing). Needless to say, we have decided to name this child:



Judah Malachi

Judah meaning, "Praise"

Malachi meaning, "an angel or a messenger"
 

We don't know the gender of this child, but we don't mind. These names were placed on our hearts, so we've decided that they are a perfect fit for our child.

We wish we weren't in this situation. Both of us are struggling. We find it difficult to reach out. Not because we don't need help or feel that we can't ask for it. We want all the help we can get. But we find it difficult to say those words. To share why we need help. We're having a miscarriage. Just writing those words make me cringe. I don't like them. We have lost a child and that's a hard enough situation, but having to repeat those words over and over again are exhausting. We've held on to this secret for a while, not because we don't want the support of our friends and family. But because we can't get those words out. We don't know how to tell people. The pregnancy was a surprise, but a joyful one. This miscarriage was also a surprise, but a terribly sad and frustrating one. We have suffered a loss, and don't want to suffer alone. But we aren't sure of how to go about getting the word out, without having to say that terrible word over and over again.

For now, we are clinging to the hope and peace we have in Christ.  We hold on to those moments as a family where we feel the all encompassing love to God. We still laugh at our boys. Joel is convinced that he has a baby in his tummy. How did it get there? It jumped in. Is it a boy or a girl? Its just a baby. How will it get out? It'll come flying out, then I put it in the microwave, press the buttons, take it out and feed it to Micah. Its those comments that make us laugh. When he asks if mommy went into the store to buy medicine to put the baby back in mommy's tummy, we cry. When he asks if I am sad because the baby is with Jesus, we know we've raised a compassionate son. Joel always has been a sensitive child and can usually sense when someone is hurt. It is because of this reason that we did not hide this situation from him. He knew before we could even get the words out. Unfortunately he is two and these are big emotions for him to process. We have dealt with some (exhausting) behavior issues, but have come at him with understanding and compassion as he mourns as well.

Losing a child affects the whole family. And our family has been affected. Its not just the four of us that mourn either. Grandparents and great-grandparents are also mourning. Our friends are mourning as well. Our community is mourning. And that brings me comfort. Even though their grief may be fleeting, we are comforted by the fact that we are being supported in our grief.  We need our community right now. Having a miscarriage is a lonely feeling. Sometimes we feel as though we are suffering in silence. There is no physical evidence that anything is wrong. All we have is two weeks of faint memories and a future that is missing a member of our family.

I look around and wonder what life would have been like with another child. We went for a walk as a family last night, all holding hands and I kept thinking, we are missing a child. The boys were playing trains, and I kept wondering what life would have been like with another one around. Empty memories. This is the harsh reality of our new life. We have lost a child.





We were surprised by your life and even more surprised by your passing. You have left an impression on our hearts. Judah Malachi, you will always be a part of our family. We love you. This is your story.