“Trust your lives to the God who created you, for he will never fail you.” 1 Peter 4:19b
It can be difficult to write when one’s heart and mind are still processing it all, but I need to blog this journey.
I’m not sure where this post is totally going, but I do know if some bloody details may scar you, just stop reading… (I will still love you, but might send you band-aids. My children who don’t like blood require a lot of band-aids.) Please know I am thankful for your prayers, I am all done miscarrying, and oh how God is faithful.
This blog’s purpose is to share my faith journey in homegrowing. To be real and share God’s faithfulness! When I am weak, when we are weak, HE IS STRONG. While there seems to be much change, challenge, and trials of late, I pray you are encouraged here at Homegrowing, to keep your eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfector of our faith.
Oh, and I know this post will be long. The longest ever. Long posts seem to be a re-occurence here… hope to get back in the frequent short-post-groove soon. I hope to answer the many questions you’ve asked and maybe wonder. Perhaps this post will encourage another mom walking this path of later miscarriage. And more importantly, this is a blessed memorial account my baby’s life, purpose, and God’s faithfulness.
As I laid in bed last night, looking back on this pregnancy, I realized my LMP date (last menstrual period) of December 19th hit a 4 month anniversary yesterday, April 19th. The day I completed this miscarriage.
I was clocked at 17.5 weeks. I don’t know when the baby died, but I did see her on ultrasound, moving with a heartbeat at 8-11 weeks.
Three and a half weeks ago, March 26th, at 14.5 weeks, at my routine OB visit, we discovered there was no heartbeat. I saw her dead body on ultrasound, it was shrinking in size and curled up, and I requested a picture. My heart pondered her little soul and body safe in the arms of Jesus.
That day, March 26th, was a Friday. The doctors were able to offer me a d&c the following Monday. I could also take Miso pills home, place them near my cervix, and wait for them to cause a miscarriage to start over that weekend if desired. Both options had risks and possible complications. I also had 9 plane tickets to fly to Florida the following Tuesday morning.
Many emotions flooded my heart and mind. My doctor’s office claims to be Pro-Life. I knew this and accepted it without question. At their office this Friday am, after much specific questioning, I discovered they do elective abortions up to 12 weeks with their d&c machines in their offices. The same machine, well at least motor, would be used for my d&c.
I struggled with sorting out many strong feelings. My baby is dead. How fast do I want it out of me? My doctor, of 11 years, who helped me birth 6 babies, is an abortionist? Shock. I love her. How do I proceed here? How can I love my doctor like Jesus would? I’m a big huge fat sinner too - saved by grace alone. What’s best for my health? And, did I mention I really wanted to go to Florida on Tuesday?
Raw honesty… My first reaction, was no way do I want some abortion machine in my body. Even if mine is a completion d&c, when I leave the examination room, some girl could come in next to get an elective abortion after me? No way. No how. Nor did I want an abortionist as my doctor.
Now, I do not stand in judgement of any girlfriends in regards to abortion. I am grateful to God I was not in a position to face this option as a young lady. I made choices I am not proud of, and could have easily had the wombs of abortion to need Jesus’ healing from. I have many friends and patients who’ve walked this road. Life begins at conception. Thou shall not murder. Abortion is filled with lies and condemnation from the pit of hell. The evil one prowls about, seeking to devour. We all need Jesus. He is Life and Healing.
My doctor, that doctor, called at the end of her day as I had requested. We chatted. I asked her questions to confirm if the d&c machine is used for abortions and that she indeed does them. She confirmed, yes. I told her my difficulty sorting my emotions. I felt the Holy Spirit’s presence in our conversation. I hope I shared with love and honesty, and not judgement. We left it that I would keep my appointment on Monday and wait to see what happened over the weekend and what Irv and I could decide what we wanted to do on Monday am.
Late Friday evening, I had a strong desire to go to the doctors office Monday am and have that d&c. I felt peace to have my very capable doctor of 11 years, who helped birth my 6 children, the abortionist, complete this miscarriage.
My change of heart really rocked me to the core! Did my convictions just wash away for shear convenience? Did I just want the baby out so I could go on vacation? How could I make this 180 degree change in such a short time? I begged the Lord for wisdom and clarification.
I was blessed to talk with a dear friend who is also an OB doctor in town, that evening. Her wise and loving counsel did help me process my thoughts. I finished the conversation and prayer with her, knowing God was confirming that it was okay to do the d&c on Monday. I knew God did not have me in this place of decision and opportunity by accident … but for such a time as this. She shared that sometimes Christians are asked to walk in yucky places, and we must do so with prayer, wisdom, and guidance from Jesus. I did not want my doctor to think Christians hate her and run from her because they think she is dirty and yuckie. While I admit that was my first response, I knew Jesus was confirming that I needed to proceed with the LOVE of Christ… not acceptance of her choices or what she does, but to love her, as a person, a sinner, who needs Jesus (like me).
I imagined my “evangelistic d&c speech”: “I am thankful for all your care these past years. Thank you for taking care of me now. I am thankful that your an excellent doctor, and your skilled hands are able to help me with this today. I do want you to know that I believe life begins at conception, and this is my baby’s body you are sucking out of my womb today. I believe she is in Heaven and I will see her again some day.” My heart also hoped to also assemble into words something regarding… I love you. I am not okay with abortions, I believe it is murder as life begins at conception. But I don’t judge you. I have lots of my own sin, and that’s why Jesus died on the cross for me… to forgive me, guide me, help me. We all are sinners and need Jesus in our lives….
I took the weekend to pray and process things. I had peace to do the d&c with my doctor on Monday, but hesitated with concern of complications from the procedure ruining our trip. We decided to do nothing and go to Florida.
We went forth, trusting God’s timing and my body’s ability to “do it’s thing” naturally.
We had a lovely time visiting family, the beach and the ocean. I LOVE the ocean, as is a special place for Jesus and I. I returned home this past Thursday, April 15th, in the late evening.
I began drinking my raspberry tea, and the Lord kept speaking to my heart “be still and know that I am God… I am your strength and refuge.”
Friday, the next day, 3 weeks after confirming the baby was dead, I began regular, light bleeding with period-like cramps.
This was answered prayer, as I had a d&c schedule this Monday April 19th, by another doctor I did not know in the office (my doctor is on spring break with her kids). I took this bleeding as a sign from God to cancel Mondays d&c, and that my body was doing this natural, in God’s timing…
It all seemed to be coming together as I had hoped and prayed. I had my vacation, was home safe, unpacked mostly, and now it would happen over the weekend while Irv was home from work.
Monday morning, yesterday, the doctors office called to see how I was. I had really only lightly spotted all weekend, like one pad a day. She offered me the option to come in to my previously schedule appointment, but at that moment Irv was walking out the door to work and I had no childcare. We decided to continue the natural way and I would go get blood work done on Friday to check my hcg levels (pregnancy hormone) to confirm it was declining, then follow up with an ultrasound.
I asked the nurse to see if my doctor had an appointment for a d&c the following Monday when I knew she’d be home from vacation. In my heart, I pondered if I was just holding out so I could have her do the procedure and get to share my heart with her?
I must confess, the following series of events really took me by surprise. Shock, actually. I went from gratitude, to shock, to anger and frustration that it wasn’t going how I imagined, to utter fear that I might die or need a hysterectomy.
At the noon hour, while making the children lunch yesterday, Monday, I began having labor like contractions. I didn’t have any back pain, just lower front, pelvic-sheering pain, which I assumed was my cervix dilating.
After about 1 hour, while walking up the stairs, I had a huge gushing of blood. First, until I looked, I thought it was urine, as it saturated the pad and went down my legs. I cleaned myself up and thought, “Hey, this is really happening.” I was so grateful!
About 5 minutes later, this gushing happened again. It was more than I had ever experienced with past miscarriages or menstrual periods.
I called Irv at work and asked him to come home, as I wanted someone here to help with the kids if needed. He was home within 15 minutes.
During those 15 minutes, I had the kids caring for the kids… Every 3 minutes I was in the bathroom, and stuff was coming out. I knew I had to keep track if I passed the baby or tissue like the placenta, so I grabbed a paper plate to keep stuff set aside.
During this bathroom time and for about three days prior I had a compelling need to pray for the protection of my womb and fertility. I understand now.
It seemed to be happening so fast, kinda like Eden’s birth (12 minutes). So I just figured it would be over soon. My body does the birth thing fast, so why would this be any different? When Irv walked in the door, I showed him my collections, and we honestly thought maybe this was almost all over.
With all the pain and bleeding, I had forgotten that my teenage niece was at my house. She had arrived Sunday night and was staying until Wednesday pm. She had vomited that Monday morning, and was sleeping the day away in the guest / homeschool room. She had called her mother to come pick her up, who lives 45 minutes away…
A few minutes after Irv arrived home from work, her mother Terri walked in the door. I hate to say Becca vomited because I needed Terri, but in retrospect it certainly does seem that way. Pertinent information: Terri is an OB nurse at a hospital!
Terri inspected my collections and informed us that they were merely blood clots! This burst my pretty little bubble that the miscarriage was almost done.
Terri and Irv took care of the kids and house, and for maybe 45 minutes or so I labored, walked around to help alleviate the pain, and made trips to the bathroom, passing gushes and humongous clots.
The contractions worsened, which surprised me at this point. I began to feel very worn out so I laid on the couch. All of a sudden, while lying on the couch, I had a huge gush …. it must have met the resistance of my pad and closed legs, and gushed up onto my abdomen and down my sides. I yelled to Irv to get towels and rolled to the floor.
We stuffed and went to the bathroom. From this point on, blood was continually coming out… I couldn’t get off the toilet. There was continual, warm, bright red blood coming out at the flow like a continual light stream of urine. I told Terri, “maybe I’m peeing”… and I remember her answer… “you can’t pee that long…” she said with raised eyebrows…
I chatted with myself, God, Terri, and rationalized what was happening or would happen.
“I know God told me to “Be still” and I think this is almost over. It’s gotta be. I can do this.”
“I can’t believe that the doctors office says it’s okay to do this at home! This much blood would totally freak out any normal-not-medical person!”
My hands, arms, legs, floor, and feet were covered. Sweet Terri helped wash me up… but it just kept getting messy.
When the continued stream wouldn’t stop, Terri encouraged me to call the doctors office. She said if she estimated I was over saturating 3 big hospital pads in under 15 minutes… Since I knew the doctors said only 1 pad an hour, I called.
Did you know that I am stubborn?
I dialed 411 to get their number from the bathroom. I had to call twice because I messed up somehow and couldn’t remember the number and didn’t press 1. Then I had issues with the doctors machine questions and had to call again. Then Terri just talked. I was a little foggy in the brain and starting to feel dizzy. The nurse took my phone number to call me back after she found my chart.
I decided if I was going to go to the doctors office to be checked out, I’d best get ready. We journeyed upstairs to my bathroom and I sat on that toilet. I think it was the going up the stairs or the distance, but as I sat on the toilet I started losing consciousness and fell to the floor in the bathroom. I could talk a little, but things weren’t right. We called 911. Terri opened the bathroom window and yelled out to the yard, “Irving!” (I like how she uses his full name. Big sisters can do that.)
My blood pressure regrouped, and I slowly headed to the front porch to wait for the ambulance. We found black pants and did a sumo-wrestler-butt-wrap with towels under my pants… Lovely.
I laid on the porch as I felt very dizzy again. While I was on the porch, the doctors office called back. They seemed surprised I had called 911. I started second guessing myself, my blood loss, my dizziness … and I started feeling like a wimp.
They said, “Well, you will have a lot of bleeding, esp before everything comes out.” I debated to decline the ambulance help. I heard the sirens coming down the road. I debated to fight to stay home.
They ambulance took me to the hospital. While they were figuring where to put me at the hospital, I had another losing consciousness moment.
The emergency room personnel were to stabilize me before the OB floor would get involved.
It took 10 ..TEN … IV attempts to get a line in. I was very dehydrated and had lost a lot of blood. They paged some STAT special IV people … and eventually were able to get two IV’s in and hang 2 bags of fluid.
I was lying on a stretcher for a long time, but it seemed to me that the huge gushing was coming like every 5-10 minutes and maybe slowing down? I imagined going through all of this to merely stop bleeding and finish the miscarriage in a yuckie emergency room stall!
They wanted to find my blood type and counts as they speculated I needed a blood transfusion.
The ER doctor said I had “something” stuck in my cervix. When the OB came to see me I had another episode of my blood pressure being 60/30 and my heart dropped from 90 to 50. Then I heard the ER doctors tell the OB doctors “I can give her fluids all day long, but she will keep losing blood until you stop it.”
I signed consent to be taken to the OR for emergency surgery. They speculated I’d simply need a d&c and do fine. But they said the baby could be adhered to the uterine wall which could be the complication, or even a placenta accreta where the placenta grew into the uterus deeper than it should have. I signed consent for a blood transfusion, complications leading to infertility, hysterectomy, and death.
When the doctor was reading the consent to me and she said hysterectomy, I replied… “I’d rather die.”
Irv responded, “She’ll have the hysterectomy if needed.”
I laugh now at my silly gut wrenching comment, but I know it reflects my deep heart’s desire to welcome the gift of life and children.
Irv and I had such precious time together. Tears. Words. Love. He read the Psalms to me off his IPAD (he’s so cute with his techie stuff) and it was lovely.
The anesthesiologist asked the OB doctor note in my chart that this was an emergency surgery, as she wasn’t comfortable going forth otherwise because I had eaten lunch. A salad with eggs, dairy, cheese are bad btw if you have a surgery coming up, as they need 8 hours to digest to be okay! (yes, Terri, I know you warned me.)
Let’s say, well I’m not the best patient. Not at all. I made a stink each time they changed the pads I was lying on because I “wanted to see the baby” and would squoosh all the clots before they could take them away. I also made a stink that the medical student and resident couldn’t do the procedure in the OR… I wasn’t being mean, just was feeling so protective of my womb.
I love that hospital. They are all big on quality of care and have these posters all around that they want the patient satisfaction to be 100%. They call you afterwards and send you surveys. I believe they want you to feel like you are in a 5 star hotel. I found out today that a dear friend was praying they’d treat me like a princess. I thank God for the lovely nurses, techs, and staff that took such great care of me. I’m thankful for the skilled doctor’s hands. Above and beyond.
Versed is a lovely drug. I remember getting to the OR and scooting over to the bed. I remember the anesthesiologist giving me warm blankets, and reminding the doctor that I didn’t want any students doing anything. I had recruited the anesthesiologist to be an advocate before we went in. God would advocate for me as I had no voice. I also recruited everyone I met that I knew would be in there. I told them I needed them to pray for and protect my girl parts… I desired more babies you know. I’m grateful that her words were the last ones I heard before I went under.
My memories are foggy from there. Irv said I told him I remembered them putting my legs in stirrups and stuff, but the Versed drug is a short term memory eraser and I don’t remember that now.
My next memory if foggy, I remember it some, but Irv wrote it down and it is my favorite part…
When I woke up, all the staff were around my bed. In my drugged-stuporous state, I rose both of my hands in the air and said:
“I have an announcement. Thank you for taking care of me. I just want to let you know that I believe life begins at conception. You guys do this all the time and just suck out babies, and I wanted to let you know what I believe.”
Doctor that did my surgery: “Well, this baby had been dead for quite awhile.”
Me: “Well it is still a baby and I’ll see it again in Heaven.”
Doctor: “You can hang onto that.” (And she walked out of the room.)
I wish I had spoke the powerful name of Jesus. But I didn’t.
I also asked if I could see the baby. The doctors said the PRODUCT was in the machine thingie and not anything to see. Then one of the nurses brought me the container. She said she normally won’t go into the OR for d&c’s, but since I was a “DESIRED PREGNANCY”, when she knew my story of wanting life, she accepted the assignment of being my nurse. She went and got the “product”. My baby was sitting at the bottom. It looked like a mini black banana.
My mommy’s heart was so glad to have the memory. It wasn’t a black banana, or a PRODUCT, but the body of my baby, who had a heartbeat and a soul. A baby that I love now and will on the other side of Heaven.
One doctor said the baby was in my vagina when the doctor put her hand in, and that she scooped it right out. Another doctor said the baby was stuck in the cervix. I don’t know and it’s hard to remember what people were saying.
I do know, that the machine didn’t suck it into pieces. It looked like it was placed into the container. I opened that container, after the sweet nurse said I couldn’t. There was a strainer on the top that lifted up, that the suction materials had to pass through, and it had small particles of tissue stuck in it. Then under the strainer was a container of bloody fluid, and on the bottom laid the baby. Irv notes that I said, “I want to poke it”, but I assure you I didn’t. The nurse made some comment about not getting the formaldehyde on me, so I closed it up. I would have liked to hold it actually, but I knew to be grateful for the gift I was just given to see the baby.
My crazy heart believes God answered my prayer that I could see my baby and that it wouldn’t be sucked into little pieces.
Pastor’s sermon on Sunday was about the parable of the sower and the seeds. My heart absorbed the teaching about being a witness for the Lord’s glory. He said sometimes we are to be witness of Grace and sometimes Judgement…. talking about Jonah and Nahum with the people of Nineveh. But for us, regardless of the outcome we see to those we witness to, we are most importantly a witness and testimony for God’s glory… just for Him, as an act of obedience, praise, and thankfulness. I pray this was reflected in this trial.
I pray this baby’s life and all these events were “for such a time as this”. For some big plan I don’t understand. To grow me more like Christ. For Him to be reflected through our family. For the little post-op room at the hospital last night be to reminded that LIFE BEGINS AT CONCEPTION!
I’m still praying for my encounter with my sweet doctor the end of this month. Will you join me in prayer?
My starting hematocrit blood count before bleeding started was 40. The last blood count before I left the hospital was 25. 25 is the cut off for a blood transfusion they implied. They offered and recommended I have one, but said I did have the option to go home and recover slowly on my own. Since they know my bleeding has stopped, they expected my counts to only increase as I recover. I am shocked with the drop of numbers, as they reflect the huge amount of blood I lost.
I came home. I’m taking my antibiotics, iron, and resting. Fluids. Spinach soup for lunch from a friend. I was offered a raw steak, but hoping for a Bill Gray’s cheeseburger for dinner from my Honey. I have trouble when I move to an upright position or stay up for too long, so I’ve been resting in bed and sitting in a chair.
I keep thinking about women of the past, and women of today who lack medical care. I believe without God’s provision I could have died. I grieve for situations like mine that have different outcomes. There was nothing I could physically do to stop the pouring of very warm and needed blood out of my body. I was helpless in that moment. Widowers and children left without mommies. Women and families experience the reality of death surrounding fertility daily. I praise God for His protection.
Through grief and trials I emerge with lessons learned, and I’m more in love and in awe of God, my husband, children, family and friends.
I’ve heard God through the scriptures. I know HE has told me He is my strength and my refuge. He’s told me to be still, and know He is God. As I reflect on this past 4 months events with this beautiful baby, I know this isn’t how I would have planned it all, for sure. But I can see God’s hand. His provision. His protection. I don’t understand and I don’t need to. I trust His perfect plan for our family and this baby’s life.
I have a ditty I told myself through my grief journey with Tucker’s death, you might have heard me before… “Just Do The Next Thing” When you don’t know what to do, feel like you can’t do, or don’t want to do… just do the next thing.
In this trail, I am reminded…”God gives us the grace we need, when we need it. Never too early, and never late.”
3,440 words. If you are still with me, I heart you!
This post is another entry in my spiritual scrapbook of God’s faithfulness… to remind myself and share with my little blessings and maybe generations to come.
I’m grateful to have the three week time in Florida to mourn and process the grief of this loss, and now the separation of time to physically heal and deal with the trauma of yesterday.
I hope this baby’s life and death encourages you in your faith journey. May you have the assurance of Jesus’ love and faithfulness for you.
“Trust your lives to the God who created you, for he will never fail you.” 1 Peter 4:19b
