Woven and Spun.

I took a little blogging hiatus while I decided if I wanted to write about recent events. I typed this a few nights ago and have just been sitting on it, not sure if I want to put it out there. In the end I decided to post, for a couple of reasons.

First of all I am not the first one to be in this situation and maybe somebody can be encouraged by my story. I've had the opportunity to talk to friends experiencing their first miscarriage several times over the past two years. Not that I want to be the go-to miscarriage person, but something good may as well come of it. And secondly, it's a way to commemorate and acknowledge a life, no matter how brief. After all, if a person's a person no matter how small and life really does begin at conception (and I believe it does) than why not talk about it? I know miscarriage makes people uncomfortable. It's abstract. It's taboo in our society, and let's face it, the unborn is casually discarded of every day.

Actually, I think I need to go off on a tangent for just a second..... I was watching Fox news last week and the star of the Oscar winning documentary The Cove, was talking to Huckabee. They showed clips from the movie where dolphins in Japan are herded into a cove using a clanking sound that messes up their sonar and confuses them. Once in the cove, poachers come through and choose the ones that look like Flipper to use in captivity for various organizations. The rest of the dolphins, hundreds of them, are stabbed multiple times with spears until they bleed to death and then sold in fish markets.

It was very disturbing to hear those dolphins screaming and the ocean was literally bright red with blood. It seems like if they had to kill them, they could have at least done it in a more humane way. While I felt bad for the dolphins, all I could think about was how America's soil is bright red with the blood of the unborn. So why won't anyone do a documentary about that? Who are we to judge other cultures for their barbarism? How are we any better? Okay, end of tangent.

So this past Monday I had an 8 week OB appointment. We hadn't announced the pregnancy even to family because we were waiting on the ultrasound first.

Although we were excited, this pregnancy was not our timing, and I was worried because Micah's upcoming deployment is scheduled for the beginning of October and my due date was the end of October. We decided awhile back that we wouldn't let the Army dictate our family plans, and we knew we would try to have a baby while he was gone. But I had been hoping he would miss more of the pregnancy and less of the first year of it's life. The thought of being left 9 months pregnant, with a toddler and two dogs in Antartica was a little overwhelming. Add to that the high probability that we will be new home owners thanks to the 14 month wait for housing on Ft. Drum and lack of rentals in the area, and I was hyperventilating a little thinking about all the things that could happen. I would have made it work.

So back to my appointment. As we were about to do the ultrasound I told the doctor how stressful ultrasounds are for me because in the past they have almost always been bad and I literally dread them for days. I don't even trust the goods ones when you see the heartbeat, because things still go wrong after that. So he did the ultrasound.

One look at the screen and I knew it was bad.

Of course it was. It almost always is. Even with Skylar I was told I was miscarrying twice. Why would it be any different this time? And so our plans changed in a second. Again. And mentally I switched gears just like that, because I guess I'm programmed to expect bad news in the pregnancy department. I didn't realize it until later, but even though Micah and I were talking as though a baby was coming, I must not have really believed it because I was totally prepared for that news.

Our doctor was very kind and he wanted to make sure of my diagnosis. He did another ultrasound to double check a couple of days later before they put me under, and then performed a D&C. Everything went smoothly. We have been supported so much by family and a few awesome friends that I asked to pray. My mom happened to be down here for her spring break, so she took care of Skylar.

I am surprisingly okay with everything and so is Micah. It's not because we don't care--of course we are sad. We didn't want to lose another baby. And although miscarrying 3 out of 4 pregnancies is a pretty discouraging statistic, I'm really not feeling discouraged. Our genetic testing came back clear after the first two, so there is no known cause. But we still have a peace about it.

Having Skylar has made all the difference this time. Not only because she's living proof that I can stay pregnant, but also because we are perfectly content with her. I don't have "newborn fever". I'm not at all envious when I see newborns or pregnant women, just thankful to have Skylar. I don't want her to be an only child for her sake, but at the end of the day we are blessed to have her and if that's God's plan for our family than we are happy. Even though I don't understand, I'm not the least bit angry, and it's very liberating.

It also helps that I have a much more eternal perspective than I used to. Of course I'm sad that 3 of my babies weren't born here on earth, but I'm not sad for them. I think they got a pretty good deal skipping out on this earth and going straight to Heaven and I can't wait to meet them and see who they look like.

I've always loved the Nichole Nordeman song "I Am". I first heard it when my friend Mary-Anne sang it in chapel the Sunday before her husband died, and there is a line in the song that says "You saw me wear white by pale candlelight, I said 'forever' to what lies ahead". Just one week later Charlie was killed by a sniper in Iraq, and I've always thought about her singing that song with no knowledge of what was right around the corner. This same song has another verse that has brought comfort to me thru my miscarriages:

"When life had begun I was woven and spun

You let the angels dance around the throne

Who can say when, but they'll dance again

When I am free and finally headed home"

I love that visual, mostly because I believe that when life is only 10, 11, or 8 weeks long, the angels don't even have a chance to stop dancing---they just dance the whole time. And that's a happy thought.

So of course we'll try again and hope that the next time is different. We'll continue to walk the fine line of celebrating a new life and not getting too excited "just in case". I wish I could be one of those excited pregnant people who never worries about anything, but I learned quickly that pregnancy is a hope and not a promise and ultimately, God is in control and knows exactly how many days we will each spend on this earth.

"For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful.

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me

were written in your book

before one of them came to be." -Psalm 139:13-16