Even in the Valley, God is Good

When Scott posted on Facebook that we had lost our baby, a friend of ours left the simple comment, “Even in the valley, God is good.” It was exactly what I needed to hear. I appreciate all of the condolences and especially prayers- more than you know, but this phrase ran through my mind over and over again for the next couple of days.

A week ago, I had a rough morning with the kids. By 9am, I wanted to go back to bed and call it a day. Instead, I woke Scott up and asked him if I could hide under the covers. He insisted on making me a tea and sending the kids for a recess. I agreed. We sat and chatted for about 15 minutes over our tea and coffee, before he had to head out to work for the day. That 15 minutes of encouragement from my husband, made everything seem alright. I thought about how I should really be taking my complaints and problems to God, and allowing Him to be my strength instead of burdening my husband, who is about to go and work a 16 hour shift, with how the kids made a mess, and won’t do their chores properly, and can’t sit still for school etc. Miniscule things, really…

 

Last Thursday, the receptionist from my doctor’s office called me at 8:30pm. Yep, I said PM. She called so that I could book an appointment to go in and find out my ultrasound results from 6 weeks prior. I set up an appointment for the next morning.

 

Friday morning, I went into see my Dr. and found out that my ultrasound results were fine. Everything looked good. My Dr. decided to do a quick check of everything while I was there and send me for some repeat blood work because my glucose levels had been low. During the check-up, she went to listen for the baby’s heartbeat. She couldn’t find it. She told me not to worry, that I was only 14 weeks, and sometimes they just can’t pick it up. I’ve always been able to hear my babies’ heartbeats at 14 weeks. She sent me for an ultrasound, and I prayed the whole way there.

 

I sat in the waiting room, trying to come up with some sort of reason as to why she couldn’t find the heartbeat. I was called in, and the technician who was happy to tell me that everything was fine at my previous ultrasound, remained silent. When I asked him if there was a heartbeat, I was told that he can’t give me any information and that he would call my Dr. with the results. Still, trying to figure things out- I thought, “Maybe it’s twins, and that’s why he can’t tell me?…” (I had gone through a similar situation before finding out that I was having triplets) I drove back to my Dr.’s office in tears, knowing, but not wanting to believe what was happening.

 

She told me that my baby no longer had a heartbeat. That I just had to believe that this is what God thought was best. That I should be thankful that I already have 7 healthy children. (Well, she said “6” but, anyways…) She then told me that I could go to the hospital, or stay home and wait to miscarry. I chose to go home. After running back and forth all morning, all I wanted to do- was go home.

 

Scott was waiting for me at the door. He hugged me, and I cried. I didn’t know what to say, other than to tell him that there was no heartbeat. I didn’t want to be hugged. I didn’t want to talk. It didn’t feel real.

 

Giving the news to the kids was not nearly as much fun as announcing the pregnancy. I thought to myself, how we should have waited longer to announce it… But really, as of my 12 week check up- everything had been fine and they would have already known anyways.

 

Scott and I spent the night sitting quietly in the living room, avoiding conversations with any one else.

 

Saturday, we both tried to distract ourselves. Still not really wanting to talk to anyone, Scott went out shopping. My mom came over to check on me. I dyed my hair. That night, I went out and did a family photo shoot. It still didn’t feel real. Scott mentioned something about putting the Christmas tree up and I burst into tears. I kept telling the kids that they would be able to feel the baby kick at Christmas time...

 

Sunday, we decided to stay home from church. Random things still made me cry. I said, “This sucks,” about 96 times.  I didn’t want to answer questions yet. I appreciated that everyone was praying for us, but I just needed some time to take everything in. Then the bleeding started. Reality had hit, and I wasn’t upset. I think I was actually relieved that I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital.

 

Monday morning, things had stopped. It was a normal day. Scott went to work, I stayed home with the kids. I didn’t cry at all. I had accepted that this was God’s will, and told Him that I trusted His plan far more than my own.

 

That night, the cramps started. I had googled what to expect, and it was exactly like what I had read. Until it had been 12 hours, and was still getting worse. (kinda like my labours) When I could barely stand on my own, we decided it best that I go get checked out at the hospital. I was given some pain medication and was finally able to sleep. Without going into detail, I had lost too much blood. The doctor’s debated giving me a transfusion. My haemoglobin was half of what it should be, my blood pressure was 80/40 and the doctor kept telling me that my tongue and lips were pale. I ended up having a quick operation, and going home shortly after. Thankfully, I didn’t need a blood transfusion- and though my lips are still pale, I’m feeling much better.

 

The whole time at the hospital, Scott sat there helpless. There was nothing he could do to help me. While I knew that, simply his presence was a comfort to me. I thought about the previous night, how while I couldn’t sleep from the pain, I spent a long time on my knees. How much more should God’s presence comfort me!? And it did. I saw God’s hand in how this played out in so many ways. Had the receptionist not called me at 8:30pm- I wouldn’t have known until after the miscarriage started. I’m so thankful to have found out before it began. I found out on a Friday, when Scott was already off from work for the day. We had the weekend to ‘digest’ things together. I didn’t want to go in for a D&C, and although I ended up needing one- the ultrasound before the operation showed that the baby was already gone. This was a huge mental relief for me.

 

I don’t know why God didn’t allow us to have this baby- but I do know His love and His faithfulness. I have learned to trust Him. He has given us so much- how could I not? So, I’m content with not knowing “why.” I am thankful for my 7 healthy children. I look forward to meeting this baby one day in heaven. And…

 

“Even in the Valley, God is Good”