Every one of my babies has been a miracle. I have polycystic
ovarian syndrome (POS) which means many things about my health are
unpredictable. My menstrual cycle is never on time, I have trouble losing
weight, and being able to “plan” a pregnancy is impossible; among other things.
It took two years to finally become pregnant with my first born and about a
year for our second born. Both times we were starting to see the doctor to find
out if there was a problem when, within a month, God granted our request for a
child. Our third baby was a complete miracle.
July 8, 2016 - Today was the day! We get to see our new baby
for the first time. We were so excited, had everything planned out for
announcing to the family that Baby Meier was on its way. But as I lay there
looking at the ultrasound I instantly knew something was wrong. Baby wasn’t
moving, I kept trying to convince myself that everything was OK, then at the
same time repeating over and over in my head, “I need to see you move Baby,
come on, move!” At the beginning of the ultrasound the technician was talking,
showing us the measurements, then things got quiet. The only sounds were the
beeps and clicks of the machine. For half a second she clicked on the monitor for
the heartbeat. Again, silence. I tried not to panic. Glancing over at Luke, I
realize he doesn’t know what I’m thinking. A few minutes later we are asked to sit
in the waiting room. The doctor would see us soon.
Early June I was getting ready for my morning run when I
realized I was a few days late, which is not uncommon, but I grabbed a
pregnancy test anyway, and waited the few minutes required for the test to
complete. And there in big bold letters was the word “Pregnant.” I laughed. So
thrilled to have baby #3 on the way! I told Luke and we were able to have a few
minutes together processing what this meant.
The next few weeks we began to prepare for our 3rd
child. Already in the process of looking for a car we ended up narrowing our
search to mini-vans, found one, and purchased what seemed to be the right one
for us. I also bought a maternity top at a garage sale since most of my
maternity clothes are geared toward summer babies, I knew I needed something
for this pregnancy; our baby was due in February after all. I began shopping
for a Moses basket, searching for clever ways to announce our baby’s arrival,
and purchased a baby carrier my sister was getting rid of. We didn’t need much,
but planning for our baby gave us so much to look forward to.
That Friday morning, as we waited to see the doctor, I told
Luke my fear. I said something to the effect of ‘I’m trying not to freak out,
but I think something is wrong. It was too quiet, they didn’t give us the
ultrasound pictures, and I didn’t see or hear the heartbeat.’ I distracted
myself, for what seemed like an eternity, with a game on my phone. We were
called back to see the doctor and she asked how I was doing, I mentioned
something about morning sickness and not feeling well the day before. Then she
said the words I was hoping she wouldn’t say, “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t find
a heartbeat.” I responded with “That’s what I figured.” I don’t remember
everything that was said after that, just options about where to proceed from
here, Luke crying, and that feeling when everything crashes and collapses
around you and there is nothing you can do to hold it together. I don’t think
I’ve had a day since where I haven’t cried or had every emotion want to explode
out of me at the same time.
A week after our first ultrasound, my doctor offered to give
us a second ultrasound to help give us some sense of closure. While there we
were able to get a few photos of our little one, not that I’ll ever be able to
forget our little bundle snuggled inside me, completely at peace.
It was a few torturous weeks waiting for my body to
recognize that my baby is gone; not just waiting for the miscarriage, but
putting the things away that once gave us excitement as we looked forward to holding
our child. The first thing that tore me up was throwing away the positive
pregnancy test. It was the one thing I had that showed there was life at one
point. Next, the minivan that we had purchased ended up having some major
issues, so it’s sitting in our parking space waiting to be sold. I packed away
the baby carrier and our announcements. And it took over two weeks to finally get
enough emotional energy to take down the maternity shirt that had been hanging in
our laundry room. With each item I felt like I was erasing this baby from my
life and I wanted to scream, to cry, and then I would just sit feeling empty
and tired. I had to put some of my grieving on hold because of my other two
children. They have been more precious to me than ever.
July 25th, 2016 our baby is born.
My heart aches as I write those words. I so wish I could
hold him close, to comfort him and tell him “It’s OK baby, Mama’s here.” To
some this is just the loss of a pregnancy, but to me it is so much more. I lost
my miracle. I won’t be able to celebrate his first breath, feel his warm skin
on mine moments after he arrived, there won’t be birthdays, giggles, or
snuggles. He’s gone.
The day of his birth, the day I miscarried, was possibly the
most traumatic day of my life. I started cramping the night before, but the
bleeding started in the afternoon. I called my mom to help me take care of the
kids for the day; I knew I wouldn’t be able to care for them as things
progressed. Luke was in Salem at a job site, otherwise I would have called him
home too. Once the bleeding started, I didn’t realize how bad it was until
about 5 o’clock. Luke had only been home a few minutes and my mom had left. I
remember telling Luke I didn’t feel well, a bit light headed, but thought I
might feel better after a trip to the bathroom. After cleaning up, I stepped
into the hall and things took a turn for the worse. I called Luke, sat down on
the floor, and shortly after Luke put his arms around me, I passed out.
I woke up with puke all over me. We called the doctor,
called my parents to come back to watch the kids, and were sitting in the
emergency room less than an hour later. I was able to walk to the ER, made it
through check-in, and one last trip to the bathroom, but after that I was a
mess. We sat in the ER for about an hour, during that time I passed out
countless times, threw up whatever was left in my system, and bled through my
clothes. Through it all Luke held me. I vaguely remember someone coming over
with a warm blanket and those blue hospital barf bags, and finally being wheeled
back to the room I’d be staying for the next few hours.
Once in the room I, thankfully, stopped fainting, however, I
still continued to bleed. I was given an I.V., a gown, and several blankets.
After seeing a doctor and a having a small procedure, we were taken to see an
ultrasound technician. I think that moment was the worst for me. I couldn’t
stop crying. I knew there would be no image of my baby on that screen.
Not long after the ultrasound another doctor, an OB/GYN,
came and spoke with us. She told us that if I didn’t go into surgery for a
D&C I would continue to bleed. My body was trying to get rid of what tissue
was left, but it was stuck, and without the procedure there was possibility of
serious harm. It was about 11:30pm and I was exhausted. We agreed it was the
right decision and I was prepped for surgery.
They continually asked my name, birth date, and what
procedure I was going in for, with each question I felt myself get quieter and
more choked up, I didn’t want to say goodbye. Waves of fear came, I wondered if
I would ever see my husband or children again. Then, there was calm. I knew God
was with me, that people were praying for me, and I fell asleep.
I woke up an hour later, the anesthesia was wearing off and
I chatted with the nurses until I was taken from the recovery room to my
hospital room for the night. It was now my birthday, July 26th, and
I felt better, no more uncontrolled bleeding, but still very weak. It’s a
strange experience having to ask a nurse to help you to the bathroom. We were
discharged close to 11am and since then I’ve been pretty much on bed rest.
Saturday was the first day I ventured outside, we drove to the farmer’s market,
Luke and the kids walked through the market, I stayed in the car.
I’m gaining more strength, able to eat more, and have not
needed as much help to get from the bedroom to the bathroom or living room.
Physically I’m improving, however, my heart aches and I randomly start crying
at the littlest things. My Facebook page exploded with new baby photos, gender
reveals, and pregnancy announcements, this past week, and while I rejoice with
my friends, I struggle against bitterness and anger that my child was taken too
soon. I have purposed not to ask ‘why?’ I don’t think that’s a fair question, I don’t
think there’s an answer that would comfort me. I lean into Jesus and ask for
Him to carry me through, even on my most angry and hurtful days there is a
peace that I cannot explain.
So, here we are, there’s not much more to say, except to
announce the name of our child. We didn’t know the baby’s gender, but we chose
a name that seemed to fit perfectly.
Isaac Milo Meier
Isaac means laughter. There was such joy with the positive
pregnancy test, I laughed; that’s why we chose Isaac for his first name.
Milo means peaceful. We chose this name because of the image
Luke and I both have of him snuggled sweetly in my womb.
We will never forget you Isaac Milo Meier. I love you baby.
- Mama
