The Hardest Day

Today is hard and it always will be. There are too many difficult anniversaries for it not to be.

Ten years ago, I miscarried a baby.

Three years ago our youngest, Luke, coded in the NICU and had to be resuscitated. And so began the most tenuous 24 hours of his sweet life. We lost him and God brought him back.

This morning, after having a horrible night of sleep – my heart kept thinking of all that was unsettling – I jumped in the shower hoping that I could begin the day clean. In more ways than one. And then it happened. I started sobbing. There was no provocation, the tears just bubbled over. I dried them, got out of the shower and prayed the “Come Holy Spirit” prayer. It’s been with me all day.

Any mother who suffers loss – miscarriage, stillbirth, infant, toddler, teen or grown adult – shares the same sentiment. Your heart is forever changed and your perspective permanently altered. I no longer judge other mothers as harshly. Perhaps the loss of that day will never, ever, really leave me. Ten years ago, when I miscarried, I still remember the details. A friend  was driving by and stopped to say, “Hi.” I told her we were heading out for my first ultrasound. She gave me a thumbs up and told me to have a great visit. The rest of the morning comes to me on a highlight reel.

Signing in at the OB/GYN’s desk, feeling excited.

Changing into the gown and heading to the ultrasound room.

Scott holding my hand. Smiling.

The tech, ever so quietly, looking on the screen.

Me, glancing at the darkness, searching for a heartbeat. (Why the hell wasn’t she saying, “Oh, look, there’s the heartbeat. Do you see it?”)

The “click” as she turned of the monitor and told me to head to the room to wait for the OB.

Dr. Teter’s sweet voice and kind eyes as he said, “It looks like we have a sad situation, here. You’ve miscarried.”

My eyes filling with tears.

His reassuring pat on my shoulder.

The card in my hand and the promise to call if I decided to have a D&C rather than letting the miscarriage happen naturally.

Scott and I walked to the car – I can’t remember – and headed home. I kept expecting the doctor’s office to call and say they’d made a horrible mistake. The ultrasound tech was new, maybe, and had read the results wrong. Then, we walked in the door and I just fell into Scott’s arms and sobbed. Big, loud, ugly tears. I’m fairly certain I ruined his shirt, what with all the nose blowing, tears falling and hands beating his chest as I cried out, “no, no, NO!”

Then I felt it, Will had toddled into the kitchen and was grabbing at my leg. He was just 18 months old and his eyes looked confused. There was love tugging at my leg, begging to be held. So there the three of us stood, holding one another, crying. As I look back on that moment it feels like someone else’s life. Another woman. I now see her with an eye of a mom who’s been through hell and back. She had no idea what was to come. She didn’t know that she’d suffer a year of secondary infertility. She didn’t know that God would bless her with four more beautiful babies. She didn’t know one would be a preemie and he would change her life.

She felt pain and anger and disbelief.

Today, she feels gratitude, love and peace.

Our son’s Godfather came over to the house that first night and cried with us. I still remember seeing his tears, come one right after the other, as he heard the news. What a touching moment of vulnerability. His love for our family was genuine and the pain just as real. Another priest came over for our weekly “ER” night of Thursday TV. That was so healing, mostly because it felt so normal. The next day, we ventured to his office and he bestowed a blessing upon us. The following weekend, we gave our Pre-Cana talk to engaged couples, as planned. And, two weeks later Scott and I both attended a Cursillo weekend. Life continued and God gave us just what we needed when we felt like the world was falling apart.

It was weeks before I attended Mass. Seeing pregnant moms was just too much to bear. I avoided our friends who were pregnant. I stopped going to baby showers. I almost threw the computer screen through the window when my untimely “Babycenter” email arrived with details of our “pregnancy this week.”

I’ve learned so much in the last decade as a mom. My goodness gracious, I’ve learned a lifetime of lessons and I know God has more to teach me.

If you’ve suffered loss, I’d like to share one thing a priest said to me during those first weeks that was incredibly healing. I told him I was angry and really ticked off that God would do something so cruel. Yet, I felt sad for feeling angry, as if I was less of a Christian mom for doing so. His reply?

“Go ahead and get mad at God, I’m pretty sure he can take it.”

Thus, began a beautiful, real and honest relationship with my Maker. May those words, a wonderful book called “From Sorrow to Serenity” and the lyrics to “Glory Baby” be comforting to you. They certainly were for me.

Glory Baby Lyrics

Glory baby, you slipped away
As fast as we could say baby, baby
You were growing, what happened dear
You disappeared on us baby, baby

Heaven will hold you before we do
Heaven will keep you safe
Until we’re home with you
Until we’re home with you

We miss you everyday, miss you in every way
But we know there’s a day when we will hold you, we will hold you
And you’ll kiss our tears away, when we’re home to stay
We can’t wait for the day when we will see you, we will see you
But baby let sweet Jesus hold you, until mom and dad can hold you
You’ll just have heaven before we do
You’ll just have heaven before we do
Before we do

Sweet little baby, it’s hard to understand it
‘Cause we are hurting, we are hurting
But there is healing, and we know we’re stronger people
Through the growing, and in knowing
All things work together for our good
And God works his purposes
Just like he said he would
Just like he said he would

We miss you everyday, miss you in every way
But we know there’s a day when we will hold you, we will hold you
And you’ll kiss our tears away, when we’re home to stay
We can’t wait for the day when we will see you, we will see you
But baby let sweet Jesus hold you, until mom and dad can hold you
You’ll just have heaven before we do
You’ll just have heaven before we do

I can’t imagine heaven’s lullabies
And what they must sound like
But I will rest in knowing
Heaven is your home
And it’s all you’ll ever know
All you’ll ever know

We miss you everyday, miss you in every way
But we know there’s a day when we will hold you, we will hold you
And you’ll kiss our tears away, when we’re home to stay
We can’t wait for the day when we will see you, we will see you
But baby let sweet Jesus hold you, until mom and dad can hold you
You’ll just have heaven before we do
You’ll just have heaven before we do
Yeah, you’ll just have heaven before we do
Before we do