Thursday, March 12, 2009

Eighth Anniversary

Why haven't I put up a post lately?

Could it be that I am really boring with nothing exciting going on in my life?

Or maybe there has been what seems like never-ending sickness invading my home and I just don't have the energy to blog.

Perhaps I have so many deep and disjointed issues floating around in my head.

Actually, all of the above.

When I began this blog about four months ago, the purpose was to simply document the days and happenings of my family; a kind of journal/scrapbook of sorts. At this point I have one official follower and I know of one other reader(my husband). And although I am very close with the rest of my family, I haven't thrown out my blog address for all to read. I don't have the intention to be a popular blog read by thousands. Would that be cool? Yes, in a way. But that is not my goal. I am not super smart nor do I have amazing insight, but even if I did, I just don't have a witty and clever way with words.

I originally thought that I would publish this blog in book form periodically for my children to read and look at someday. So, should I write about my deepest issues that may or may not directly affect my children? I don't want to hide who I am and what I've been through from them but is it an unnecessary burden to allow them to view the deepest part of my soul even when those circumstances are long over? Or would it help them to someday understand my actions and reactions to the different events in our lives? I think that this is the place I can go for a sense of therapy to unload my burdens and pain.

My prayer is that God will use me and my blog for His purpose despite my agenda as I relate my life to anyone who cares to read about it.

This month marks the eighth anniversary of the miscarriage of my second baby. This year I find myself deeply saddened when in years past it has seemed like a distant memory of another life. I was married to Josh's dad, D, and Josh had just turned one year old when we decided to try for another baby. I became pregnant right away but my body was not ready to carry a baby. The baby had stopped growing at around six to eight weeks and I was fourteen weeks along when I miscarried. I never found out the gender of the baby but I am almost certain that it was a girl. Call it mother's intuition. I had even already picked out an adorable pink romper to bring her home from the hospital in. She was due to be born September 2, 2001 and I was really excited for her arrival. I know that God knew what I was about to face in the coming months and years with her father and knew the best thing for me was to call her to Him.

I am not sure that I ever really grieved the loss of my baby since the circumstances surrounding the miscarriage carry such tremendous physical and emotional pain that have seemed to overshadow the actual event of losing a baby.

It was late on a Thursday evening when I began hemorrhaging. I called the hospital numerous times to speak with the doctor on call and was told to keep waiting. D was there through it all and to his credit, was very supportive and helpful. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom covered in blood when we finally decided to ignore the doctor's orders and head to the hospital. As I was getting out of the tub, with D's help, I fainted. D could not wake me so he called an ambulance which then transported me to the hospital. I underwent an emergency D&C without much pain management. Usually a general anesthetic is used but the emergency doctor was afraid I would go into a coma so she opted to use a cervical pain block.

I was admitted to the hospital overnight for observation and to keep fluids pumping through two IVs in my arms since I lost so much blood. I did not sleep at all but cried all night long. I had many vitals checks and a cuff taking my blood pressure every fifteen minutes. I was visited by a grief counselor early in the morning and was finally seen by a doctor so that I could be released.

I called D to come and get me since he had to be at our home with Josh. As I was waiting for him to get there, my roommate asked me if she could play her music. Of course I agreed and she instantly began to play some praise music. I wish I could remember the song but it has escaped my memory. It turns out that she had breast cancer and was recovering from surgery. Her sweet, calming voice dried my tears.

I went home and promptly fell asleep on the couch. D made me some lunch and I slept some more. I was extremely weak, very sore, and physically drained. Josh came home from his grandma's and D took off with his friends to, admittedly, do drugs and sleep it off on some body's couch. I was completely unable to care for Josh so my sister-in-law, Angela, came to my house with her two girls to take care of us both. She fed and bathed Josh and put him to bed. I am sure she asked how I was feeling emotionally about the miscarriage, but to be honest, I was more hurt by D's desertion. I was not fully aware at that time of his behavior but I was certain that he was completely selfish and uncaring. He did not come home that night or for the entire next day and his mom had to come take care of Josh.

Five days later, when I was still very ill, he told me that he wanted a divorce and that he wanted me moved out by the end of the month. He retracted the request later that day but it fermented in the recesses of my mind for the rest of our marriage and maybe for the rest of my life. I do believe that he felt trapped and that he was finally able to end our miserable marriage when we were no longer expecting our baby. Truthfully, our marriage and relationship were in trouble since the day it started and perhaps I will blog about that someday.

For now, I am thankful that D had the guts to tell me he was miserable, albeit in a none-too-gentle way. It changed the course of my life. I am thankful for Angela who helped me emotionally and physically through one of the toughest challenges I have faced so far. But mostly, as a daughter of divorced parents, I am thankful that God called that baby Home and that she didn't have to survive the divorce of her parents. I grieve the fact that I never got to know her and that she wasn't able to be a part of all the fun things that Josh and I have done together and now as a part of a new family. But she is waiting for me in the presence of Jesus and I know that I will meet her someday. Meanwhile, she and my grandma are singing the Lord's praises together and for that I am glad.


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