10/12/2012

I had the D&C on Tuesday.  It was a little scary, but it was not as bad as I thought.  Everyone at the hospital was very nice.  As the nurse was taking my blood, she told me, "I went through this 25 years ago," with this knowing, sad smile.

(One thing I’ve discovered…miscarriage is like a secret little club that no one talks about. Once people find out it has happened to you, they suddenly open up, and it is really amazing how many people have gone through this same heartbreak. It is so sad and so comforting at the same time. I told a friend that I never could have understood or related to my friends that had gone through this until I went through it myself. You can’t begin to imagine what it is like until you are in it.)

The scariest part was just going into the OR.  I have never been wheeled anywhere on a gurney, and it was very cold and felt cavernous and sterile (obviously).  Luckily, it was just a few minutes and then the next thing I knew, I was waking up as they wheeled me back to recovery.  I was able to get up shortly and they sent me home. On the way home I thought I might be sick, but I made it to my bed without vomiting, and then slept for five hours or so. I stayed in bed most of the day…ate a little soup that my Grandma had made and watched some tv and cried a little, but not too much.  That night Ryan asked me how I was feeling and I told him I was okay, a little crampy and tired, but okay.  Then he said, "Yeah, but I mean…how are your feelings?"  It was very sweet.  He told me that he was feeling better now that it was done, and I agreed. It was nice to sort of "have it over with" (at least the physical aspect).

The next morning I woke up and found a large white bag on the coffee table.  I suddenly vaguely remembered seeing it on our doorstep the day before, but I had rushed past it in my effort to avoid getting sick.  When I opened it up, there was a lovely prayer shawl knitted by someone in one of the women’s circles at my church, and a letter about how and why it was made. I held it and just cried.  A couple of days before I had decided that I really wanted someone from my church to know. Not that I believe that they have a more direct line to God than I do or anything (but maybe I do think that, just a little). =)  I emailed Susan, one of the younger pastors that I know fairly well, and shared what was happening. I told her that I didn’t want to talk, but I just wanted someone to pray for us and for our baby. She wrote me back the loveliest email, and included this prayer at the end:

Life-giving God,
Your love surrounded each of us in our mothers’ wombs,
And from that secret place you called us forth to life.
Pour out your compassion upon Amy.
Her heart is heavy with the loss of the promise that once took forth in her womb.
Have compassion upon Ryan, Joseph, and all of their family.
Their hearts are also heavy with the loss of promise.
They grieve the death of the hopes they anticipated,
The dreams they envisioned,
The relationship they desired.
Give them the courage to share their pain and confusion,
And couple that confession with the simplicity to rest in your care.
Allow them to grieve, even in accepting this loss.
Warm them with the embrace of your arms.
Knit together their frayed emotions,
And bind their hearts with the fabric of your love for them.
In your Name we pray….Amen.
Lord, we do not understand why this life,
Which we had hoped to bring into this world,
Is now gone from us.
We only know that where there was sweet expectation,
Now there is bitter disappointment;
Where there were hope and excitement,
There is a sense of failure and loss.
We have seen how fragile life is,
And nothing can replace this life, this child,
whom we have loved before seeing, before feeling it stirring in the womb,
even before it was conceived.
In our pain and confusion we look to you, Lord,
In whom no life is without meaning, however small or brief.</div>
Let not our limited understanding confirm our faith.
Draw us closer to you and closer to one another.
Lay our broken hearts open in faith to you
And in ever greater compassion to one another.
So raise us from death to life; we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.
 
 
It just wrecked me, and it was exactly, exactly what I needed. I wrote her thanking her for bringing the shawl. I told her how nice it was to have something tangible to hold on to, to touch and remember this little baby that we never got to hold. I didn’t know how much I needed that until I had it. She wrote me back and said that the woman who knitted the shawl had shared with her that she had experienced a similar loss years ago, and so is especially praying for us. That made me feel connected in an important way…like I said, it’s like this secret little club. No one wants to be a member, but there is a connection and a sort of sisterhood here that I am coming to appreciate.