Sunday, May 13, 2012

Almost a Mom……

I’ve wanted to write this post for a while, but it’s really hard to sit down and do it because it means I’d have to think about it.  But then again, I’m confronted with it time and time again through conversation.  Conversation that I have to bite my cheek, and conversation that I have to smile, shake my head, and sheepishly say “not yet”.  I almost didn’t write about it, but I know there are lots of women out there like me. Women who were almost a Mom.  I didn’t think I’d have such a hard time with it today, but I did. I saw all of the “Happy Mother’s Day” posts on Facebook, and thought about my own sweet Mom.  And then I saw a dear friend’s post that also acknowledged people for whom this holiday brings grief.  Dang it. Tears came.  Even before I got out of bed. 

Let’s bring this all to a circle.  In January of 2011, I had a miscarriage. (Typing the word even makes me cringe.)  It sucks.  Plain and simple.  No. Not plain and simple. More like gut wrenching and difficult.  Add in the fact that once it happens, EVERY couple around you gets the great news that they are expecting, and you want to shoot yourself in the foot pull your hair out and scream. But let’s talk about that later.  After we had gotten the news at the doctor’s office, I had the horrible job of calling my Mom and telling her that she would have to wait longer to be a Grandma. (Dang it. That still sucks to type! Because I know she has the same pulling hair out and screaming reaction I do when her friends tell her about their new grandchild. This freaking sucks people.)   So I stood in our living room just sobbing/bawling because I didn’t want to call her. You know in the Bible how their grieving was described that they pulled their hair and tore their clothes? Yep. They got it right.  I would rather have pulled out every hair on my head then have to make that phone call.  This seriously went on for about a half an hour before I could dial.  After she answered I think I blurted it out in half sobs, half yells.  I felt a little better after I got it out.  So then I sat there still crying as I came to the realization that the process of MC was not over. There was cramping. And blood. A lot of it.  Then I had to call in to work to let them know that I wouldn’t be coming in that day or the next. This is the part where I also realized I had to tell all of my friends and church family that I’d had a MC.  I got a couple of lovely phone calls from my friends giving me their encouragement which helped.  But then there were the “everything happens for a reason” people.  I know they meant well, and at times like this you really don’t know what to say, but gosh it felt like a stabbing knife in my heart.  (Here is a good part for a plug for my church. Pastor Dan DeMey just gave a fantastic sermon on how to help people who are in a pit.He talks about ways that may not help as well. Check out the podcast dated 5/12/12 here .)  Here are some things that the doctor doesn’t tell you about the “after” of having a MC. He doesn’t tell you that when you watch a show or movie that has a birthing scene in it, it’s going to cause your cheeks to grow red-hot, and your eyes will undoubtedly begin to cry.  He doesn’t tell you that a year down the road, you’ll still cringe on the inside when people ask if you have any children.  He doesn’t tell you that it takes a hell of a lot of good character to congratulate a friend on the birth of their child while on the inside you’re screaming “It’s supposed to be me!!!!!”. He also doesn’t tell you about the strange, empty feeling you get when you see a newborn, or hear the cry of a newborn. Maybe there should be a pamphlet they could give out to families on what to expect after suffering a MC. It would have been helpful to be a little prepared. 

So here I am. A year and a half out, and still dealing with what I thought I’d be over by now.  I’m glad I finally wrote this post.  It’s nice to get it all out on the table as hard as it was. 

I now find myself thinking how to end this blog post.  I know I can say that I haven’t lost hope.  The past year and a half has been the hardest of my life, and I’m so glad that I have a wonderful husband, and a supportive family to help me get through it all. We’ve got gnarly chipped nails and bruised fingers from crawling out of many pits on our journey, and at the end we still know that God’s got our back. Time and time again He proves this to us.  It’s because of this that I continue trucking on and moving ahead. 


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