miscarriage

papoose was only a cluster of cells when he/she died.

how could we have been so in love with a cluster of cells?

nevertheless, we were. and today when we found out i’d miscarried, after trying for a year and a half to get pregnant… well, we were (are) shell-shocked. our barricades comprised of bible verses and hymns has been ambushed, leaving us in the wilderness, clinging to whatever remainders of faith we can find.

we suspected the miscarriage for a week. there were signs which we ignored. trent and i admitted today, we’ve already gone through the other stages of grief (denial, anger…). today, as we sat and listened to the doctor, we finally were able to accept the truth.

walking to the car, trent reminded me we are blessed. our baby would not have been well if he/she was born. there was a genetic problem, and i couldn’t have done anything about it. yet there’s something about conceiving a child that makes you maternal from the get-go: makes you believe you can care for your baby, even as they’re growing inside of you. makes you blame yourself when they die, even if it’s not your fault.

the only person to make me laugh today was mum. we stopped by the house on our way home to share our news. mum came bumbling down the stairs, concern etched all over her flushed face. she held me in her arms and then pulled away hurriedly, asking, “it wasn’t because i hugged you too hard yesterday, was it?”

i couldn’t help but laugh, then cry again as she tripped upstairs to hunt for kleenex for me. it’s not easy for her to get up and down those stairs. but there’s something powerful about a mother’s love…

i know some of you may not have known we were pregnant. many of you did. in either case, please pray for us as we flounder around for awhile then get back on our feet, finding the courage to once again try and have a family.

in the meantime, today we went to the beach and built a rock-memorial for papoose. it helped, in some strange way. then we sat and stared at the ocean, letting the waves wash over our weary souls.

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11 Comments

  1. Teneale said,

    October 6, 2008 at 11:33 pm

    I’m so sorry Emily. My heart breaks for you both. We will be praying for you. Hugs from far away.

  2. abbagirl74 said,

    October 7, 2008 at 12:20 am

    Oh Em! My heart hurts for you. I am thinking of you and Trent.

  3. Amy Pearl said,

    October 7, 2008 at 2:28 am

    The prayers are on, girl ~ love you both — a.

  4. Sandy said,

    October 7, 2008 at 3:23 pm

    You have such strength. Our thoughts are with you and Trenton. xo Sandy and Chadwick

  5. joannamallory said,

    October 7, 2008 at 8:49 pm

    Emily, I’m so sorry. Building a rock memorial for your much-loved papoose is a wonderful idea.

    I’m praying for you and Trent as you grieve.

  6. Aunt Marion said,

    October 8, 2008 at 1:25 pm

    We just heard recently from mom about the pregnancy and were so excited for you both. Sorry for the sadness you must feel now. How nice to go to the beach. A great place to be comforted by God! We’ll continue to pray for you!

  7. The Sheepcat said,

    October 9, 2008 at 1:51 am

    Emily, I came by because of The Word Guild’s prayer list. May God comfort you in your loss, and your papoose, by the mercy of God, rest in peace.

  8. Glynis said,

    October 9, 2008 at 6:05 pm

    Life has a funny way of not making sense, Emily and Trent. My heart breaks for you. Why did God give you such joy and then allow it to be taken away? Where was God when the turmoil was happening with your baby? How did this happen when you were prepared and in love and ready to make a nest? All these and a million other questions about life can send us into a place where we settle and cry helplessly. Then Jesus steps into the picture and reminds us that this world is not perfect. He comforts you and weeps with you. He has sent your little papoose, into the perfect world. These plans are not understood and not for us to know at this time because of our finite minds; and because of the joy that He will bring you in the morning. Find the focus and the heart of Jesus and He will ready your souls for what lies ahead. Meanwhile, rest and sleep on the beach. The memorial was a beauty; a tribute and testimony to your faith and love for your little one. Peace for the days ahead. Praying.

  9. Mary Haskett said,

    October 10, 2008 at 6:32 pm

    Dear Emily & Trent,

    I cannot feel your pain because I’m not you. But in a way I do to an extent, because your news brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. I pray God will walk with you through this time of grieving and grant you His assurance.
    PS.What a great Mum you have:) She made me laugh too!

  10. Bonnie-Jean Yeates said,

    October 10, 2008 at 8:14 pm

    Emily,

    I came by because of the word guild prayer group. Thank you for sharing your personal feelings and loss with all of us how incredibly touched we all are to read this. Lifting you and your husband up in prayer, May He that comforts us restore and heal your heart. May he bless you both tenfold.
    God Bless

  11. November 10, 2008 at 7:17 pm

    Oh Emily, I have only recently discovered you through The Word Guild, but already I feel a resonance with you. I was delighting in the release of your new book, *Save My Children*, when I found this news of your loss. Heights and depths. The Lord be with you and Trent, comforting you, giving you hope and courage.


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