And a year later…

I keep telling myself I will update this. And I keep taking nap time as a time to lie down instead of as a time to get things done. And we all know that with a toddler in the house, there is no typing a blog post with her awake. But I would really like to blog. I’ve had a blog (oh Xanga) since I was in high school. You know, before it was THE way for mommies to make money from home. Now that is a cool job. Any one want to sponsor my writing? I blog once or twice a year and I have one reader. Is that enough to make a lot of money?

Cool. Just contact me later, and we will work out the details.

The Bug is now 18 MONTHS OLD! I can’t believe time has gone by so quickly. A lot has changed in these past 2 years. We packed our house. Twice. We moved. Thrice. (We moved houses twice with a month at my parent’s in between.) Hubby started a new job. Twice. And we were pregnant. Twice. You heard me, twice.

We lost a precious baby in October. These past months have been the hardest of my life. There really are no words to express what it is like to lose a child. And I firmly believe that the life inside me was a child. No, I never saw that baby’s face or even named him or her, but it was my baby none the less. He or she was loved, prayed for, dreamed about, planned for. The same as The Bug was when I was pregnant with her. And yet, I had to say goodbye to this life after 2 1/2 short weeks. I was 6 1/2 weeks along, but only knew for a short time. And in those weeks, I fell hopelessly in love.

On a Saturday morning, I woke up and discovered blood. Nervous, but somehow still calm, I called the doctor who told me to take it easy and wait. I put myself on bed rest willing my body to stop what I somehow knew was happening. My mom had several miscarriages and I expected the worst while begging God to make it stop. Begging for mercy for my sweet baby. I tried to imagine a positive outcome and settled in to wait. By that evening I knew for sure I was miscarrying. And that next evening I held the remains of that life in my hands and cried.

How could this have happened to me? Had I done something wrong? What was the purpose of that sweet life? And why was it taken from us? Was it so incredibly selfish of me to just expect a normal, healthy pregnancy? Had I not prayed enough? Had I worried about the finances to much? Were we being punished?

Many people said things to try to make it better. But I clung to the knowledge that our “chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him for ever.” And that baby had been called home sooner than I imagined our hoped for, but he or she was just fulfilling his or her purpose in life. And our lives are not just lived here on earth. They continue forever in the presence of our Savior and the one true God.

Several months later, the hardest part is seeing other pregnant women. I have a friend that was due several days apart from when I would have been due. And I have several more friends that have announced their pregnancy due around the same time. So I have a constant reminder of how far along I could have been right now. 15 weeks. I would have been nearing the end of morning sickness. That is, if the pregnancy was like the first one. I try so hard to be happy for everyone. To rejoice with their miracle. But all I really want to do is cry out – WHY NOT ME??? Why didn’t I get to keep my baby?

I will get to meet that sweet baby in heaven one day. And we will get to be together forever. And we will find our chief end in glorifying God and enjoying Him forever. But on this earth, I will just have a hole in my heart where that baby could have been.

Advertisement