Seven times I have begun a journal of an expected life. Three were closed before the first chapter was written, and four I am still filling with life’s stories, and theirs in turn are filling mine.
Today I live in God's grace without the pain and anger that naturally come with the miscarriage of hope and life. I am not quite sure, but I may have had a miscarriage near the beginning of my marriage, but was not aware. The first time that all my senses and soul were aware of my miscarriage was in the night before the election on November 2008.
Already I had begun buying maternity and baby clothes at thrift stores along with sundry other baby items. I had bought a pregnancy journal, and filled in as many of its blanks as possible. The dates were all put in to the calendar, and I had begun to imagine or slightly detect that my belly was beginning to protrude. The "penny" taste lingered in my mouth, and nausea had begun its visits. Naturally I had begun my nightly visits to the bathroom, but this night I saw pink, and that terrible rush of hot blood flooded through my veins. "Oh, Lord, help," I whispered quietly. I slipped back into bed trying to calm myself with assurances that some women do spot, but the nagging feeling that I hadn't with my previous three pregnancies pervaded. Then the cramps began. I turned over and laid my hand on my husband and said his name, "I think I am going to miscarry."
The next morning when I got up the cramps came stronger. I made the decision to go to the polls anyway. It was my third Presidential election and I felt I needed to cast my vote. It is hard to put into words all the feelings and emotions that were experienced, but the pain of standing in line for over an hour with so much sorrow nearly overwhelmed me. The concern and care of others was a great blessing in spite of my embarrassment. Praying was not hard, I turned to God for comfort and He gave and gave again.
I do not recall the circumstances of my second and third miscarriage as well as the first; however I do remember the emotions. I tried to keep them a secret as well. The waiting and anxious expectation were not anything like the delightful hope of a pregnancy before a miscarriage. The anger I felt , that came nearly immediately scared me. It scared me more than the miscarriage itself. I cried to God, and begged Him to take this awful anger away, "Lord ,I trust you, help thou my unbelief, " I quoted over and over. I must trust in my faithful God.
Again, with the third I begged God to take my anger away. I told my husband I was done. I did not want to keep trying for another baby to hold, it hurt to much. I called the Dr. to schedule a tubal. As I spoke with the nurse, she sweetly shared her story of repeated miscarriage and the blessing of a daughter. My hope was renewed and God used that nurse's testimony to challenge and strengthen my trust in Him. I waited on Him, and He gave again. I named her after God's favor and bountiful blessings.