From My Heart

Thank you for the emails and comments you have sent.   They mean so much to me.   It is amazing to see the love and sympathy of so many strangers.

Physically I am doing ok.   Emotionally I am not so good.   This isn’t the sort of thing you ever expect to happen, and even if you  have known  friends  who have lost a baby, the true impact is impossible to imagine unless it happens to you.   I have had several friends and acquaintences who have miscarried, but before now, however awful it may have seemed, it was nothing compared to the empty pain I am now feeling.   My belly is swollen from the contractions Thursday night  and the saline IV, my hormones are still confused about what’s going on, and my heart is broken.

If there has to be something good to come out of all of this, it is the fact that Casey and I have been brought closer than ever.   We have spent many hours talking about how we feel, crying in each others’ arms, praying, asking questions  and, alternately, staring off into space and trying to forget it all.   He has been my rock in these last few hellish days.   He is an amazing man, full of a love and compassion that I hadn’t ever seen the depths of until now.   To see his hurt and pain makes it real to me that this precious child was already an emotional part of our family.

My emotions are all over the spectrum right now.   Some are healthy and some are not.   I am angry, I am sad and bewildered.   I am scared, confused and numb.   I don’t want to talk to anyone I know about it, except Casey.   I am dreading our trip to Casey’s  brother’s wedding, simply because I don’t know if I can stand any extra-long, sympathetic hugs from our family.   I want to eat and drink so much that I can’t feel anything.  And I want to never eat again because maybe then I can shrink and disappear.   I know that there are so many things that are so much worse that could happen to a family, and yet if someone else says that to me, I  might strangle them.   I want to go out dancing and be beautiful and pretend I was never pregnant.   I want to crawl into the shower and let the hot water beat over my head for an hour until it washes away the pain.   More than anything, though, I want everything to be fine again, and be pregnant again with the little child that was going to be born in October.

Kenny, thank God, doesn’t understand anything of what happened.   He is, in fact, sick today with a little viral infection that he undoubtably picked up in the eight hours he spent in the ER on Thursday night.   He is happy as ever though, even throwing up and exhausted.   He is an angel.   A gift.   The child we weren’t sure that we could ever even have.   And I am comforted by that.   And I am comforted to know that nothing I can ever go through on this earth can come close to separating me from the love of the Father.   No pain I have felt is foreign to Christ, who bore  the pain of all generations so that we might belong to his Kingdom in Heaven.   God knows exactly how I feel, good and bad, and He knew that all of this would happen, even before any of it did.   His story is bigger than mine, and His Word is always true.   Even as I mentally beat my head against a wall, I know that He is there, holding me in His arms.   And He is holding my child in His arms, too.