2 Steps Forward and 1 Step Back

I have been thinking about this post for days.  The reason is, I thought I was doing better.

Oh yes, there were the pangs.  A newborn sighting.  A firm pregnant belly.  But it wasn't occupying all my thoughts anymore.

But right now, the pangs have intensified.

One reason: Lilly turned 2.

Birthdays are emotional for me.  Not my own, (yet)  but my kids' birthdays.  If you've read my Birth Day posts, you know I can work up some tears for that special day.
This time however, it was more than just her birthday.  When James turned 2, I had another baby waiting to pop out.  When William turned 2, I had another baby waiting to pop out.  And when Lilly turned 2, I was supposed to have another baby waiting to pop out.
It was an ugly reminder of what should have been.


I spent much of her birthday in tears.  I felt out of control and irrational.
I felt like she is my last baby and 2 is nearly grown up.
I told you, irrational.
And in the days after, all day long I walked around with tears just behind my eyes.  You know, when they are waiting to spill over for any, and every, and no reason at all?  I have mentioned before that I like to feel in control.  So this feeling, this emotional instability, is rather a nightmare.


There is more to the story, though.  And this is the part that is hard for me to write about. Because sharing  the deep parts of our hearts is scary.  But my friend, Tammy, recently reminded me that our pain can be an encouragement to others.  It is helpful and healing to know someone else has walked the path we are walking.
And I think about all the blog posts that I found right after I miscarried and how much they helped me.  So I'll write this in the hopes that there is someone who needs to hear it.


2 weeks ago or so, I was late.  Only a day.  But I know.  Each time I have known.  Sometimes I don't even wait until I am late to take a test.  Aaron says I am crazy, but I know my body.  Whatever.
So this time I was right again.  I was joyful.
But then, I was sad.  Because I knew I couldn't call Aaron with the news and expect him to jump up and down.
Aaron and I are in 2 very different places right now.
He is not ready to go through this again.
He can still hardly talk about what happened.
He was the one holding me while I wept in the shower.  He was sitting next to me in the hospital.  An awful reminder of that first time he sat next to me in the hospital, holding a newborn  James in his arms.
He is scared.  And he can't bear to see me hurt.
And he can't really understand why I want to go through all this again.
Because there is always the "what if?"


And you can say what you will about faith and trusting God, and letting go and all of those things, but a husband's job is to take care of his wife.  He wants to protect her, to shield her from pain and suffering.  I imagine it is horribly hard to watch your wife cry and know there is really nothing you can do about it.


I read a blog post shortly after I miscarried that was like a lightening bolt from God.  It was written by a husband whose wife had lost their baby at 7 months.  He wrote about how men and women grieve differently.  He wrote of when he was ready to go back to work, had to go back to work, because he had to do something, his wife felt like he was a traitor.  But that was how he dealt with it.  He needed to take care  of his family.
Reading that piece gave me the grace I needed not to push Aaron to talk when he wasn't ready.  To say, "when?" and "let's have a plan," and "what's the outcome going to be?"
I was able to just let him be.  It was, and still is, hard.


But that day, when I felt like I couldn't call with my news because he would be stressed and worried and anxious, I felt alone.
The next day a very painful and intense period began and I knew it was over.  Before it really even began, I was done with another pregnancy.
My doctor told me it probably happens far more than we realize, and that I would more than likely be experiencing intense hormonal shifts.
She was right.


Those darn tears.  It was the hormones.  But also the questions it brought up.  Maybe this isn't meant to be?  Maybe we are done?  Maybe my body doesn't do babies anymore.
It made the pain of my miscarriage feel fresh again.
It made me tired.
It made me wonder if there was something wrong with me.


And I still wonder, am I crazy?  Should anyone feel this upset over a miscarriage that happened 5 months ago?  I don't know because no one really talks about it.
No one talks about how the husband deals with a miscarriage his wife has.
Or how they deal with it together.


So I am.
In the only way I know how, by putting it out here and baring it all.  I feel vulnerable,  I feel weak.  I have spent a lot of time in prayer but I don't have any magic answers.  I just have to walk through this valley and know that the Lord is my Shepherd.




Of course, coupled with the fresh pain is the guilt.  I have gotten pregnant and stayed pregnant 3 times.  I have 3 healthy children.  People are suffering with far greater losses than this one.  Shouldn't I be moving on?
Yeah, probably.  And I think I was.
But things happen that take you back and you have to start all over again.
So I am.  With you.  Hope that is all right.


One of my favorite quotes by C S Lewis says this, "we read to know we are not alone."
I guess that is why I write too.
Love from,
Greta


PS, I had Aaron preview this before I published it because that is only fair.  He is a pretty private person, so letting me share this is generous of him and I am grateful.