Missing

This time last year I was pregnant.

There aren't many days that go by that I don't feel like someone is missing... like our family isn't complete. With each month that goes by I wonder whether Kate will be my only.

I feel so badly that Kate doesn't have a sibling. I feel like we've long missed out on the window for her to be close enough in age to feel close to a sibling. I regret not trying to have another child soon after Kate. And I wish things would have gone differently after my miscarriage-- that I would have gotten pregnant soon after. Yet here we are almost a year later and still nothing. My optimism is quickly fading and the guilt I have-- that Kate is an only child-- only grows.

Why I Won't Wait

(a continuation of sorts from my last post)

A person's a person, no matter how small. 

You know how when you're speaking of general societal 'rules' that those rules are governed by "they?"  They say you should wait until you're in your second trimester before you announce a pregnancy.    Well, they, I disagree.  I will not be paying much attention to the 'rules' anymore.
I think if I wait to tell people about another pregnancy (if that ever happens again) then I will be living in fear.  I will be waiting for what they say to come true. I am done living in fear.
What makes me most upset about having followed the rules set by the anonymous they is that
I had a baby and I lost it before I even got to tell anyone about that wonderful little life.  Thanks, they.  I didn't get to celebrate every day that miracle lived and grew in me.  My (extended) family and friends didn't get to love that little person like they would have if I'd only carried a little longer to make that silly 'you can make it official date'.  (As if a loss is any less 'official' before the second trimester).  My family and friends couldn't truly mourn because they hadn't even known about this little person.  We all lost.
And if I hadn't told anyone at all about the miscarriage?  People probably wouldn't have understood the moodiness or the anxiety.  People wouldn't have been as patient and kind.  Friends and family wouldn't have reached out and said, "me too."  The "they" that mattered were there for me.  They shared my pain.  They made my burden lighter.  And if anyone ever finds themselves where I was they will know I understand. Then maybe they won't feel alone.  And I would hope they could turn to me and be wrapped in the same comfort and love I was  given by others who had gone through it.
Life, all life, truly is a gift and a miracle.  And every day should be celebrated.  They seem to take that for granted.  So, if there ever is a next time I'm going to celebrate.  I'm going to live on faith.  I'm going to make it a big deal.  Because life (no matter how small) is a big deal.

And if God decides to call that child home I will praise Him through another storm.

Waking Up

I took a break from blogging because after our miscarriage there wasn't too much that seemed terribly important.  And, in all honesty, I wasn't doing a very good job of coping.  I certainly looked fine.  I mostly acted fine.  But inside I was a terrible mess.  It was a sneaky mess, too.  It even had me fooled.

I have this friend who is the opposite of a friend.  This visitor who comes to stay with me.  This visitor is restless, yet is incredibly polite-- never makes much noise and always ensures he does not leave any obvious marks of his presence.  Yet he constantly paces back and forth playing out all the what-ifs and must-be's of life.  This guest of mine whispers in those many quiet moments through the hurried days and silent nights.  

At first I noticed him.  Looked him over.  Understood why he was here.  Listened to what he said.  Took stock and even believed he had a right to stay.  But then with time and busyness I began to ignore him, but not completely.  And, make no mistake, this did not make him go away.  He stayed, but spoke even more fervently.  Ever present, quietly adding to the soundtrack of my daily life. 

Lies.  He is oh-so-good at lying. And the stories he tells!!  Stories that made my heart race and head spin.  Lies that made my breath short and my chest hurt.  Untruths that crippled me.  He turned light into dark.  Happiness into something that must be carefully, methodically guarded.  Open and free into condemned and shackled.  

Except my loss has finally become my gain.  My pain has become my freedom.  My fears have been relieved.  

And so, my old friend, it's time we said goodbye.  You've taken up residence in my head for far too long.  You are no longer welcome.  

I'm waking up again.  God has stirred my soul. And I am forever thankful.

Wonder babies

Lately I've been thinking about how my doctors told me** I wouldn't get pregnant and if I did I'd likely miscarry and if I was actually pregnant then I would go into preterm labor. Well, with K I did go into preterm labor, so they were right on 1 of the 3 predictions. Even after I had K my new OBGYN looked at my medical record, did the physical exam, and then called K a 'miracle baby.'
After our miscarriage I've been beginning to wonder if the doctors are right and K really is my miracle baby. I wonder if she'll be our only child. It makes me sad to think that if I do have any more children K will be 3 before she has a sibling.
If she really is going to be my only child it makes me wonder how many other 'miracles' I have that I take for granted. I definitely didn't know that's what I was experiencing when I was pregnant with K. I'd like to think I've grown a little wiser and cherish her even more now (didn't know that was even possible).
This definitely wasn't how I envisioned her growing up. I used to say I wanted four kids. Now that I know how much work children are I don't know what I want. My heart still aches when I think of our loss-- who she (I dreamt our baby was a girl) was, how much K would have loved her, how much Mr and I love and miss our baby. I wish our baby was still safely growing, comforted by the sound of my heart and sway of my movements...
I put my faith in God and His plan. He will decide if I get any more 'miracle babies.' (And as Mr points out-- aren't all children miracles, really?) God is good and will see me through. And in the meantime He is my comfort.


** when i was 17 i had intense cramping pain and went to the doctor. After an internal ultrasound they determined I had a large cyst that had burst (yay PCOS). Also during the exam they discovered that I have a septate uterus and that means increased risk of miscarriage (70-90%) and high risk pregnancies.

Refined

With the Mr's latest news I have been thinking a lot about these trials we've gone through in the last year.

December 2011 we received orders to Okinawa. It wasn't until April that we had final word about if we were going as a family or not. Stressed. Me. Out.

End of May/ early June we moved and it was challenging but, honestly, it was mostly fun.

September the Mr. was offered the team leader position for SES, which he accepted. I was in AZ, but we talked it over and thought it would be a good opportunity (hah!). This would later mean he would work 6 weeks straight and often 10-12 hour days.

November the Mr's father died.

December the Mr was recommended for warrant officer. He declined. We also were fairly sick for a couple weeks.

Jan/Feb Mr put in for NCIS polygraph. We waited. They chose his coworker because his coworker had been on island longer and 'would be easier to justify pcs'ing early' as opposed to us who would have only been here a year.

March. We lost our pregnancy.

Also March. Mr has orders for recruiting duty. Orders for 12-14 hour days 6 days a week. *sigh*

Maybe I'm oblivious to my friend's lives but I think we've had a fair amount of trials this year. It makes me think God is refining us as we go through these trials. Giving us opportunities to give things to Him and to rely on Him.

So I look to psalm 66 and hope it is true of our lives:

For You have tried us, O God; You have refined us as silver is refined. You brought us into the net; You laid an oppressive burden upon our loins. You made men ride over our heads; We went through fire and through water, Yet You brought us out into a place of abundance. I shall come into Your house with burnt offerings; I shall pay You my vows, Which my lips uttered And my mouth spoke when I was in distress. I shall offer to You burnt offerings of fat beasts, With the smoke of rams; I shall make an offering of bulls with male goats. Selah. Come and hear, all who fear God, And I will tell of what He has done for my soul. I cried to Him with my mouth, And He was extolled with my tongue. If I regard wickedness in my heart, The Lord will not hear; But certainly God has heard; He has given heed to the voice of my prayer. Blessed be God, Who has not turned away my prayer Nor His lovingkindness from me. (Psalms 66:10-20 NASB)

We told K as soon as we found out I was pregnant. She would point to my heart and say 'baby!' We tried to correct her and point to my tummy and tell her the baby was there. But K was adamant the baby was in my heart. 
Three days before I started showing signs of miscarriage K patted my back and said, 'baby. Shhhh.' I said, 'oh is the baby sleeping?' She said 'yesh'. I thought it was cute. I wonder if she knew. 
This morning K came and woke me up and we laid in bed cuddling for a little bit. Suddenly she said, 'baby!' My stomach dropped as I waited for her to point to my heart. I wasn't ready to have the conversation with her about what had happened. Then, she turned and pointed upward towards the ceiling. Yes, the baby is in Heaven and God is good.

I was a mess on Friday.  I sobbed on and off throughout the day.  I have an amazing husband.  He is so supportive and loving and I could not be more grateful for him.  I woke on saturday and felt better, but with every cramp or ache it was a reminder of what we lost and the feelings of "I'll be ok" gave way to "I don't want to go through this."
It's little things that remind me I'm no longer pregnant.  Writing that, "I'm no longer pregnant" poked at my heart.   As much as I have physical reminders of our loss it is the absense of other things that make the loss more tangible.  I no longer have to constantly think about how much water I'm drinking.  My boobs no longer ache.  I don't feel nauseous.  I shoved the prenatals off my nightstand into the drawer.  Things I thought about, worried about, griped about are no longer there.  just like that.
And I wish this sadness would go away. just like that.  But it comes and it goes.

Funny how just a few posts ago I was writing about my jealousy.  How I wish I had roots and family and friends to surround myself with.  It's these moments that God shows me his love for me.  This is such an easy time to feel alone and isolated.  Instead God has surrounded me with love and support in a way I didn't think was possible.  I feel so loved and cared for-- even though most of it is coming from over 7,000 miles away.  So though I grieve my loss, I am grateful for what I have gained: a new perspective and appreciation for just how loved I am.