As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things. (Ecclesiastes 11:5)
Well, it's not the post I thought I'd be writing, but it's still the post I feel I have to make. We're trusting in our Father that one day we'll be back here, writing joyful news about a little one that's growing big and strong in my belly, but, until that day, it's important for us to share with you what this journey's been like for the past few days.
On January 11, we arrived at the doctor's office and immediately had a sonogram. From the moment the fetus appeared on the screen, I knew it wasn't moving the way it should be. As I gripped Jeff's hands tighter and tighter, we listened to the doctor say that she couldn't find the tiny flicker that should indicate a heartbeat, that the fetus was measuring smaller than expected, and, finally, that it was a miscarriage. She gave us some options and left the room, and then the tears began. Jeff held me for a long time before I knew I just wanted to be home, so we completed the required bloodwork and headed out. On the way home, we contacted the few people who had known about the pregnancy, and we started the armies of prayer warriors who know and love us well. By 4:00pm, we'd decided to proceed with a D&C on Friday afternoon; the choice was simple because God had already taken our little one to be with Him--we were just sending the tiny body to follow.
And then we made a choice. We chose to 1) grieve the loss of our Blueberry, and 2) find joy in the sorrow we were experiencing. We don't know God's plan for this moment, but we do know that, together, we can find laughter and hope.
We are so thankful for our family and friends who are showering us with love and prayers, who are crying with us and making sure that we eat and sleep and laugh in equal measure. Your emails, phone calls, and text messages have made the last two days bearable. Your flowers and visits and food have nourished far more than just our bodies. The fact that you cry with us for this giant (tiny) loss makes our burden so much easier to bear. We are so blessed by you.
We are blessed, too, by jobs and colleagues and bosses who are understanding and supportive. You have offered kind words and picked up the slack when we just needed to be together and not at work. Thank you.
I, personally, am so amazed by my husband, and I can truly say that tonight, as I type this, I love him more than I ever have. Until I met Jeff, a wonderful man took care of me all my life: my dad. Today, as Jeff held my hand at the hospital and wiped my years, as he made me lunch and picked up flowers, Combos, and Mike 'n' Ikes at the grocery store as sweet surprises, and as he constantly tried to take away as much physical and emotional pain as he could, I stood in awe of the love I see in him. He truly reflects his Father and my father in his care for me, and I couldn't be more blessed. Boo, I love you forever and infinity squared. Inch by inch, row by row, we will make a tiny garden grow--when the time is right.
As I sit on the sofa and type this, Rosie and Guillie curled at my feet, I am in no physical pain. Tears come and go, but I am not alone when they do. We only made it through today because of the One we trust above all others, and because of the love and support that was so tangible all day long.
It's not the adventure we expected, but it's an adventure all the same, so we hope you'll join us for the ride.
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