God's Doors

A lot has happened over the last couple of weeks. I have remained silent to allow a lot to process. After August 2, 2016. My OB forgot about me. The busy office carried on. The comfort I received on that day vanished. (Except from the NP- who hugged me each time she saw me). The tests we requested (which were recommended by the dr) we were told were not run on her by mistake. So they ran a bunch on us. $$$$$$$. Only to find out the following week they actually were run... Our little Ava Rae, was perfect. No defects, no genetic or other known abnormalities. Last week was horrible. I received insensitive call after call, day after day. Like "Did you want to know the sex of the baby?" "Are you trying to get pregnant?" "Is this for fertility?" "I'm sorry your chart is everywhere, I didn't know what test result you wanted". I absolutely hated it.  I left the office after my post op visit feeling deflated. I sat in the waiting room with all the pregnant mommies for 1.5 hours. Only to be told when I got back. "I'm sorry, we weren't supposed to leave you out there. We should have had you back in a room sooner." Thanks for the thought? It was just too much during a tough point. The appointment didn't go well. The assurance wasn't there, and she just wanted more tests run on something that was physically hurting badly and not healing. 

Ben had enough. He was angry. I was passive and hurt. 

But as he always does, God opened a door. I had called to another provider and couldn't get a soon enough new patient appointment. I talked to a friend, and she told me of a Dr. with a smaller practice. I called and sure enough they had a new patient consult TUESDAY! I took it. It's nice to walk into an office and see a beautiful quaint waiting room with 8 beautiful chairs then it is seeing 30 full chairs. It's also nice to see a smile instead of a window. As I walked in 2 other people were there. I walked up and she asked, "Are you Sarah?". There was no long list of people and no kid standing there telling me about their new computer system asking if I had been there since they changed it each painful time I went in. Anyway. I saw her. And loved her. She actually looked and listened - 30 min straight. 

Turns out everything is actually fine. After some ultrasounds and non-evasive testing. I am fine. I just need time. I just need to be left alone to heal. No more tests, no more poking and prodding. Just heal. She explained what was "hit". Showed me and told me, that was what was hurting. Now. A weight has been lifted. I have no more tests to schedule. No more labs, no more consults. It's time to move forward and heal. No more obnoxious, insensitive, daily calling. 

I have learned. You don't have to go to the big pretty large offices. Sometimes a small, quaint, only 2 people in the front, who know you,  office is what you need. I saw some familiar faces and friendly. 

Much needed. 

Side note: We were given approval to try again in about 3 months. I am not mentally there yet. The outpouring of prayers and love has been amazing. Thank you all so much for the support. I needed it. 💗💗 So now for healing. 

Today I lied.

My point in sharing my feelings and thoughts is not for pity. It's not to make you feel bad. No a world that has become so outspoken, this is to give a voice for something painful. This is also my safe place to speak freely. You can choose to read or choose to ignore. My feelings will not be hurt. 

Today I lied. 

Completely and utterly lied. I was in a busy place. Lots of faces, lots of people. I saw a friend. Not on social media or my personal circle. One I don't see everyday. And one I saw the day before "That Sunday". She saw me chatting about my pregnancy and asking her for advice in handling three. In a quick and chaotic moment she asked.......

About the pregnancy...... That no longer existed and the baby that wasn't there.

In that busy second my world stopped and everything stood still. I had on an oversized tshirt and by no means could she have possibly known, that under that tee shirt was nothing. So I lied. The world picked back up. The noisy room continued. Life continued. I told her pregnancy was going great, I was doing wonderful, and ran off pretending to catch my daughter who ran away from me. Who I knew was just going to get water and I pretended to be helicopter mom flying after her.

The truth? I couldn't bare the pain of continuing the conversation. Not only to protect me, but to protect hers. I know I am hurting and grieving but I have been in that awkward place. Where you ask.... I was not about to be Debbie downer in a packed house with tons of eyes. I didn't want it to be noticed. I didn't want the gasp, or the "Im so sorry"... There. Not there. Not then. So I lied. But the lie plagued me. I sat back down after chasing Little Mess back to her seat, I sat. I tuned into the pregnant ladies conversation behind me. The soon to be new dad to the side, and the other returning back to the hospital for his new born daughter. He too had three daughters. My mom was there too and she and I were wrapped in another conversation. It was surreal. I was sitting there. Half involved in the world (somewhat) while the other half seemed to be struggling with acceptance of "my" world. 

I sat and listened. It hurt. It did. I felt so alone in a very pregnant world. In a world that was carrying on.

Just like that I realized. I am part of the club. A club I never knew existed. One that I didn't want to be a part of. One I didn't "rush" for. One I didn't pay registration or dues. But I was in like Flynn. 

I regret ever complaining about the "pain" of being pregnant. And hurt now because I want it so bad. 

I regret ever saying, I can't wait for this to be over"..... Because it is and I didn't want it to be. 

I regret ever griping about it, because someone just like me (now) probably heard me. And on that day, I probably sent them home too in tears. Because no one knows. 

Yes I have two beautiful living/thriving/beautiful/healthy girls that God blessed me with. As each day passes I realize just how much of a blessing they truly are. 

But completely being honest having those two does not take away the hurt I currently feel. It's helps, but doesn't take it away. It doesn't take away the fact that I love children and want so bad to experience the birth and "afterhood" of another. And while coming to terms with loosing Ava I am also quite possibly realizing my body may not allow me too again. Yes. 

So I lied. It's so much easier to carry on with a conversation, hide the hurt and pain, then to actually feel it and greive it in a moment. 

Trust me. I'm not always Brave. I'm not always outspoken. Often I find it hard to verbalize "these" words and "these" feelings. 

Her life ❤️

 I use this as my motivation for healing and others use it as a since of normalizing their feelings if that makes sense. I sometimes feel that God created me to express myself this way, and be vulnerable so someone else who may not be able to express their feelings this way, can see. Its ok.

Before I became pregnant with Ava I had a very vivid dream of God holding me. And telling me he was with me. I didn't understand it at that time. It played in my head and my anxious mind kicked in. But it was silenced by Gods love in an "oddly" calming fashion. Two weeks later we read the positive pregnancy test for Ava. Now take us 1 week shy of 4 months pregnant. And 2 weeks out of the gate of the first trimester. That let me add was miserable. I vomited daily, hourly, consecutively for weeks. But remained strong. I thought I was safe. I had no reason to doubt it. 

To the part no one knows but Ben:

There was something "different" with this pregnancy. I wasn't as "excited". For some reason I  was cautious. For some reason I had trouble envisioning January when she would arrive. We gave her a name. The name Rae, after my dad who is a staple in our life, our marriage, and the first man to have my heart. He is also the first to show Ben many things about raising a family. Her name was special in our house and hearts. For me, something was missing. I quietly made her a registry (no one knew that). These were reminders of things we needed more or so for me. I caught myself drifting to the oh so tiny new born section but never had the heart to purchase. I unwrapped some of my dresses I wore and felt those were appropriate and brought them out for her. I washed them and hung them in our room. This made something seem real. I grabbed my planner and changed the pencil markings to pen markings. I began to get excited. I marked all our milestones in my planner complete with my list of appointments. I began to speak her name and speak of her. I began to get excited. 

Then Sunday. I started having cramps and unbearable back pain. For me, in those minutes, I knew she was gone. I have and at times eerie sense, and I knew. Something told me. She wasn't there anymore. Something told me to prepare. I was awake in pain. 

Monday comes. The fever kicks in. The chills are there, and the flu-ish like symptoms started. I selfishly put off the call since I already had an appointment that afternoon. In my heart of hearts, I knew. And postponed it. I wanted the day to sit in and attempt to take it in before it was medically validated. Ben offered to go to my visit. But selfishly, I told him no. I didn't want him to feel the pain I knew was coming my way. I didn't want him to have to see the ultrasound for them to confirm it. I knew I could handle it on my own. God prepared me. 

Her heart didn't register in the Doppler. They brought me into ultrasound. And as soon as I saw her. I knew. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and her legs crossed. Her head tucked into her chest and she was peaceful. But I knew her heart was no longer beating. Mine stopped for a second as well. The tears came. The moment I thought I could handle by myself came. I cried. It hit me. The guilt was more then I could bear. 

Did I not appreciate her enough?

Should I have gotten that onesie I wanted for her?

Should I have pulled the stuff down from the attic?

Should I have been thinking of future? 

Why me? 

I shouldn't have gone to the beach. 

I should have taken the nausea medicine to keep food down.

I should have.... The list was endless. 

But at quick as I asked, I answered. 

I questioned my faith, not in God, but myself. I no longer had faith in myself. I no longer felt capable. I was so worried about everyone else, I completely lost faith in me. I doubted that this body created by Gods blood could handle such a gift and I lost faith in it. 

Wow. From the beginning. I began to doubts it's every move. I doubted each pain as a sign for failure. I doubted each milestone as a step closer to heartache. 

The guilt tripled. It was me. 

Stepping back to the Monday. All ultrasounds medically concluded what I knew in my heart. But I wasn't prepared for the quickness. My body was getting sick. And she needed to be out of my womb. And just like that the appointment went from grieving to surgery planning. Then surgery prep, then surgery. I remember that night, holding my belly, and pleading for a miracle. Sobbing and praying for just one more kick. And just like that I woke up on the day I turned 15 weeks pregnant, not pregnant anymore. With no signs of a baby. 

I shouldn't be here. 

This isn't happening again.

This can't be real.

I'm pregnant!!!! ..... But I'm not.

I had to wear maternity shorts, my belly was showing. She was there. But in a week she was gone. With no trace of her besides the IV marks in my arm and the follow up calls from the hospital.

Then the following Monday (1 week after) I was determined to have a good day. I saw my discharge paperwork. "missed abortion". She was medically known as a "missed abortion". I get it. It's a medical term. But to a mom who just had a miscarriage at 15 weeks just shy of 4 months pregnant to share a word with abortion is gut wrenching. There needs to be a different word. Once less abrasive. One less intentional. 

I cried and cried. 

Over the past 2 weeks I have cried more then I have in a lifetime. I have questioned myself and my faith. I have yelled, screamed, and hurt. I don't understand. Why is this done to a family so desperately trying and wanting this baby. Why. Why make it so painful and hurtful that it literally sucks the life and breath out of you. Why? 

"She is with God"

But I wanted her with me.

"She is in a better place"

Where better then with me.

"She was called home"

But I am home.

But somewhere deep, that needed to be pulled out, was my deep rooted faith, that I had to trust. I knew, but my earthly body didnt want to truly know. That's what would "take time". 

The toughest part was yet to come. Telling the girls. 

Adelyn cried but has a faith that is inspirational. She knows her God and knows his love. And is planning a celebration for her birthday. (Which would have been just before her own birthday). She has asked awkward and tough questions but remained steady even as I collapsed and failed miserably at answering. She has asked people to pray for our family boldly, adding us to prayer lists. I admire her strength. 

Aubrey. Aubrey has struggled. My heart breaks more and more at every thought. Aubrey was preparing for her sister. She got her baby dolls back out and was practicing. She was making plans for Ava and would tell me daily. She was so excited to really ready to be a big sister. As the words left my mouth. She sobbed. Uncontrollably. "But I wanted to hold her!". The breath was literally taken from my lungs. I glanced at Ben and he took over. He knew I had nothing. He knew I couldnt speak a word. He answered and calmed her. On the following day, Aubrey approached me and asked if she hurt Ava. She again cried in hysterics. By the time I got her calmed down, she explained. "Because Mommy, you said not to kick you in the tummy because it hurt when Ava was there, and I kicked you". As she and I cried, I made her promise me, she would never blame herself.

We have chosen to not discuss it anymore with her at this time. It began to affect her. She couldnt grasp and couldnt understand. Its been a couple of weeks and things are better for her. She occasionally speaks about it, but with a smile. Ben and I talk about her together and with Addi. We asked Addi to just talk to mommy and daddy, and asked her not to speak with Aubrey about it, until we decide to address it with her "later". I feel like this is the right thing to do for her.

I never imagined any of this would be so tough. I have every pregnancy test, photo, video, post etc. Still up. I dont have the heart to remove it. The picture of my green car trying to fit 3 car seats now makes me cry. Each day is getting better. But there is still a knot in my stomach. And all it takes in 1 word, 1 memory, or 1 thought to unleash tears.

For the most part I am "ok". I can talk about her on my own regard but should you see me, dont be afraid to ask. Dont be afraid to talk to me. I wont break. Dont be afraid to laugh with me, hug me, or tell me a joke. I can still laugh. I am ok.