Before I formed you in your mother's womb I knew you.

BEFORE I formed you in your mother's womb I knew you. The keyword "before" in this verse gives me such comfort. Before Luke and I even knew our angel in my belly, God knew them and loved them. He already knew the plan and although it would certainly not be our plan, we must trust in Him.

A close friend sent me and Luke this message about trust in December after Luke's dad Carl passed away unexpectantly...."understanding will never bring you peace. That is why I instructed you to trust in me and not your understanding." I would pray nightly to please trust in the Lord plan. To trust wholeheartedly like a child. "Trust in the Lord with all of your heart, and lean not on your own understanding." We all want so badly to understand why bad things happen to good people but this is impossible and just leaves me angry and confused. I find that if I turn it over to God and remind myself over and over and over and over to trust Him then I find some relief from the "whys" and find a little peace even if it's short lived. 

January 2, 2013: I took a pregnancy test at work and announced the good news to Luke right when he got home from work.  We were both so excited.

Of course the first trimester was hard just as I expected it to be. I was nauseated, food was terrible, smells were terrible, and I was tired. (Man what I would give to be hanging over a toilet again.)

February 7: We had our first prenatal appointment and ultrasound. Heart rate 167. Measuring perfectly at 8 weeks. Here is our first and only picture of our lil one.

February 16: We announced the great news to all of our family, friends, and barely acquaintances via social media. I loved reading all the congrats and well wishes.

March 5th was an ordinary day. I kissed Braxton and Luke goodbye.  I went to work. I ate lunch. I had a prenatal appointment. That normalcy quickly became abnormal when my doctor could not find a heartbeat using the Doppler. As she searched my belly for that precious noise I commented that she was making me nervous. She shrugged it off stating I was still so small and we just needed an ultrasound. We joked about me getting to see the baby without Luke and made small talk about daycares and all the snow days as we walked to the ultrasound room. I was still blissfully oblivious at this point but looking back I think my doctor already knew. We tried an abdominal ultrasound with no luck because the baby was so "low", tucked behind my pelvic bone. We then transitioned to the vaginal ultrasound. This is when my world shattered. My doctor said "Im not finding a heartbeat. I'm so sorry." She continued talking as she tried to comfort me. I remember some words about the baby measuring 10 weeks (I was 12 1/2 at this point), some more words about the baby being very swollen, and a few more words about fluid around the chest and head. Another doctor came in at this point to confirm the terrible news. I sobbed. 

My doctor is amazing and sat with me for a long while. We talked about me feeling the baby kicking at 9 weeks and then stopping at 10 weeks. I explained that I just thought my uterus had grown. Then we talked about options and decided that since I was so far along that a D&C would be the best option. We scheduled for March 7. 

I sat in that room on the table staring at the ultrasound machine for what feels like an hour building up my courage to call Luke, although it was 5 minutes in reality. I made the worst phone call of my life and we cried and decided to stay at work. No bad idea, let's go home. 

Waiting was the absolute worst part....sitting at home knowing we had lost our baby....waiting to end my pregnancy....,waiting for some sort of symptom. Spotting, cramping, bleeding. No symptoms came but Friday March 7th came. 

We had to be at the hospital at 5AM. Surgery was 7:30AM. Luke and I woke up at 4AM. We moved around silently, getting ready; neither of us knew what to say. I cried as I sat on the couch waiting to go the hospital and as we loaded the car and as we drove to the hospital. It wasn't fair.....driving to the hospital at the end of a pregnancy is suppose to be joyous and exciting, and 28 weeks from now. 

Every staff member that we encountered at the hospital was kind and sympathetic, many sharing personal stories to ensure us we were not alone. The most horrific part of the experience other than the obvious was confirming my procedure over and over and over. From admissions to preop, from nurses to CRNAs, everyone who entered our room started with the same 3 questions: 

What is your name?

What is your birthdate?

What procedure are we doing today?

How horribly excruciating to state the terrible words aloud over and over again. Each time I said the awful words a new wave of emotions washed over me and I cried and cried no matter how hard I tried to hold back. Obviously this is not the hospitals fault as they must ensure they don't complete total knee replacements on people who need D&Cs. It was just an unaviodable, bitter reminder. 

Did I mention how amazing my doctor is? She came in prior to surgery, sincerely concerned. She reassured us again that there is no reason this should happen again in the future. She assured us that we would be nervous wrecks during our next pregnancy and that is okay. She promised that she would do everything she could to put our minds at ease and if that meant. 1-2 ultrasounds per week then that would be our plan. Her words and kind actions truly brought me comfort on a terrible day. 

Surgery went as expected with no complications. I woke in recovery very, very emotional but I don't remember this at all (my doctor reported to Luke and once the medications wore off I could feel dried teers on my cheeks. 

We were leaving the hospital by 10:30. When we got home I hugged and snuggled Braxton tightly and then crawled into my bed to try and sleep away the memories of the day. 

Physically recovery has been smooth. No pain or cramping. I have been reminded of how badly junior high sucked...pads are a terrible, uncomfortable nuisance. Emotional recovery is another story. My hormones are crazy. I can go from happy to sobbing in a matter of minutes. I feel robbed and of course I feel like I should still be pregnant, entering my 2nd trimester instead of starting over. I find myself feeling jealous of other pregnant women and then I feel terrible for having those feelings also. At night, I lay in bed and wonder, was my sweet angel a lil girl or another sweet boy? Would they have looked like Braxton and me or would they have taken after their daddy? And thousands of other questions.  

Overall this experience can be best described as a sucker punch. The horrible news came out of left field, completely blind sided us, and knocked us to our knees. We are no strangers to loss and we know the path far too well. We know that we will come out from the darkness on the other side and that we will be just a little different after living it. We will adjust to our new normal. And most importantly, we will be happy again and hopefully we will be pregnant again (although no one will know until I can rest a plate on my tummy). We pray nightly that it is in God's plan for our family to grow with a new precious baby and I have faith that our God will provide.