These thoughts have been wandering around my mind for a good two weeks now. I've been thinking them, feeling them, holding them close, but they are the hardest ones to write down. But today has some, and today I'm going to try...
It was a year ago, on August 30, that we learned the baby I was carrying had died. I was ten weeks along, just as I was on August 30 of this year. The days that followed were filled with grief, waiting, fear, peace, anticipation, tears, and much, much love. We waited for my body to give up the one who had already flown away to Jesus. The days stretched on and I nurtured a secret hope that the ultrasound had been wrong, that really my baby was alive and still growing inside me. I resisted any intervention that would take her away.... just in case. I battled against fear, fear of the miscarriage, fear of pain, and waited. Early on the morning of September 9th my body let go of the one it could hold no more. I knew right away I was losing too much blood and my parents came over quickly. My Daddy stayed home with our sleeping children while Erik and my Mom took me to the Emergency Room. The next several hours went by as if in a strange dream; both Erik and I remember it as one of the worst days of our lives. Finally, I was allowed to come home, home to my family, home to my bed and my couch which would cradle me for the next few weeks as I slowly regained the strength that had flowed out of me. Our families set up a schedule so that someone would always be with me; friends and family brought meals. In the midst of the loss I was surrounded with incredible love and care. We named her Esther Bihana Hope. Bihana is a Nepali word for morning, and by it remember Christ's resurrection and through it the Hope He gives to us.
It took a few months for me to feel strong again. In January I learned that I was pregnant again, and it was only a week before I began to lose that little one. We were once again visited by grief and sorrow, fresh pain for the new loss, and the reliving of the first loss. Our second baby, Lydia Grace, would be due this month. How many times I've let my mind wander into a place of "if only". "She'd be this old now" or "I'd be this far along now". While those thoughts do come, I've realized how easily I can allow myself to let them take over the joy of the present, and I try not to dwell much on what is not.
Now, I am 11 weeks pregnant with yet another life, another gift from God. I realize that they are all His, on loan to us for a time, and each day we have them is a blessing. But how tightly I want to cling to them! I struggle with fear for the life of this little one; I so desperately want to hold our baby in my arms, to watch this little one grow. As I've relived these events over the last few weeks, the fear has begun to overshadow me, and once again I must do battle. By God's grace, and through your prayers, I will overcome it and embrace the joy of today.
I'm so thankful when people remember our babies. To me, they are a real part of our family, even though we don't get to know them in this life. My Dad, especially, has often remembered them in ways that mean so much to me. When counting his grandchildren, he included them, and on occasions when our family is all together he will tell me that he misses them too. They are loved and not forgotten. Thank you to those who have remembered me these past few weeks; I so appreciate your prayers and kindness. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon and I ask once again for your prayers. I'm both excited and apprehensive about it, and will let you know how it goes.