Those of you who read my daughter’s anguished non-post already know: There won’t be a baby this time, either.
Abby had been cramping and spotting since Dec. 20, and was fairly pessimistic about her chances. After three previous miscarriages, she knew her body better than anyone. The Dec. 31 ultrasound showed that the pregnancy stopped developing between five and six weeks in.
I didn’t really believe that they’d find a heartbeat. But I’d hoped, which means the disappointment is that much keener.
The doctor gave Abby the option of waiting up to a few weeks for the miscarriage to complete itself naturally, but the strain is telling on her. After discussing it with Tim today she decided to call the doc tomorrow morning about scheduling another D&C.
They’ve both thanked me for staying on to help out, but I feel pretty useless. About all I can do is cook, tidy up, do a little laundry, and urge water and healthy snacks during the day (in hopes they’ll counteract the sweets and treats we’ve been consuming in front of Netflix each night).
I’m taking long walks, pecking away at upcoming deadlines and calling DF several times per day. Also avoiding posting on my own site, because I wasn’t sure how to tell the same story all over again.
Faith is a learning curve
In short, I’m grieving. Not just for me, but for her. It’s so hard to watch her suffer, again. If I could take this burden on, I’d do it. Unfortunately we don’t get to choose.
I have the option of asking “Whyyyyyy?” yet again, but I’m pretty sure I’ll get the same resolution: that God answers every prayer and sometimes the answer is “no.”
I have to trust that there’s a reason for all of this, that God knows what He’s doing. Some days – say, every day since Dec. 20 – that’s tough to believe. Faith is a learning curve and right now I’m languishing at the near end of the vertical axis.
Intellectually I know we’ll get through this. But it’s not my intellect that’s hurting right now.