When I learned that there was a day to celebrate the lives of infants and babies who were lost to their parents, I was deeply touched. While I have never experienced this heartbreak personally, I know many who have. People whom I love, people whom I admire, people who matter. My first thought was of my precious friend, Alyssa Crouch who had only shared her loss about a year ago. I asked her if she would write out her experience for my readers. I know that you will love her, her testimony, and her story as much as I do.
Job, God reminded me of Job’s story when it seemed that
everything was crashing down. The summer of 2013 was brutal. I was doing
interviews for a teaching position, my husband and I were in the midst of
purchasing a house, because in part, we were pregnant.
Our pregnancy
came as a slight surprise because we weren’t trying for a child, but there was
no means of prevention. We were both excited and scared out of our minds
because we had recently graduated college, were both working at a sandwich shop,
and lived in a small rented trailer. We had hope, however, because of our faith
in God and great support from close family and friends. As the summer wore on
though, it began to weaken.
I heard back
from my first interview that they had hired someone else. Shortly after, the
house we were trying to buy did not pass the septic inspection, meaning we
would have to pay an additional $10,000 to fix it because the sellers couldn’t.
We lost the contract on that house because we couldn’t pay and the mortgage
came back unapproved. We were ready to look at other houses, still holding on
to the image of cuddling our new baby in a new house, but then the unthinkable
happened.
If was a
Friday. I was at work and noticed that I had started cramping and bleeding. My
mom had a friend that was a nurse, who told me that I needed to rest that
weekend and go to the doctor on Monday. I stayed in bed that weekend praying
for my child. Since I was only about 5-6 along, at the time, the only people we
had shared our wonderful news with was immediate family. Laying in bed, I was
grateful this was the case. On Monday, my husband and I went to the OB where
she told me that she wasn’t sure why I was bleeding, that I was too early to
really see much and called it a threatened pregnancy.
In the two
weeks that followed, I never felt more like a stuck pig. Every two days or so,
I was sent for bloodwork. I remember holding and looking at my belly, begging
my child to stay with me. I went on to another teaching interview, still in
pain. another doctor visit came when I was about 7 weeks along. The doctor
looked over my hormone levels and performed an ultrasound. This was the first
time my husband and I had seen our baby, or rather, where he should have been.
(I’ve always thought our child was a boy.) After printing a picture (which got
jammed) the OB confirmed it was a blighted ovum and explained that my body had
aborted the pregnancy (although we are not sure why) and an empty sac was still
present.
We were in
shock. How? Why? These were the questions constantly on my mind. For the next
month, I was in pain with my body letting everything go. I was confused,
thinking that “nothing was there anyway, why did I love it?” Already in so much
emotional pain as well, a few days after the appointment, I got a call telling
me that I was not selected for my second interview either. I was infuriated,
depressed, and beaten down. I cried and cried for days until there was nothing
left. That’s when I got really mad a God.
I remember
laying on my bed, feeble tears making their way down my cheeks, dead to my own
mind for lack of comprehension, and I audibly asked, “Why?” I can’t explain
how, but three letters seemed to glow on the ceiling above me. J-O-B. I said, “really
God!? Why are you testing me?” I closed my eyes and felt courage enough to pick
up my Bible. Flipping through the book of Job, I realized that I could have it
a lot worse. Not meaning that my concerns didn’t matter, but I needed to have
faith like Job. When my husband got home, I told him what I had discovered and
I was able to let my emotions go. He held me and we cried together. This was
the first step in my healing.
Hope twinkled
again when I again went for an interview, in which I got hired for the
position. It wasn’t until the spring of 2014 though, that better understanding
took place. My best friend, and sister by love, presented me with a stuffed
animal and a message that God instructed. “Even though you don’t have an
earthly body to hold, you are a mother. Someday God will give you children in
your arms.” This was the breakthrough. It still wasn’t easy to think through,
and still isn’t, but gradually I began to remember my son with love.
God helped me
replace the feelings of hurt, sadness, and confusion, with love, fiath, and
determination to go on. He has started a fire in me to help others work through
their pain of saying goodbye before ever getting to say hello.