I've been so torn for a very long time as to whether I should blog this, and then even still, should I post it? The third year is only a few weeks away, and I've found it on my mind so much more. Over the past three years I have learned a lot. I have learned that everyone heals differently, and everyone copes individually. During the difficult times in my life I seem to reach out to many who have been there, but ultimately I seem to end up preferring to cope alone. I take bits and pieces of the words spoken to me and take some to heart while trying to lock out some from my memory. This post has been written, changed, and even deleted. That being said, I am blogging this simply because I remember very few words spoken to me during this time in my life that comforted me. I don't have the words that some hearts need to heal, but I hope maybe my story will help someone realize that, even as common as this tragedy might be, it is so misunderstood, and no way of coping is the "wrong" way.
When Jamie and I were married there was no question that we wanted children. In my selfish mind, there was no question that we WOULD have children. With the support of Jamie and many others, I graduated college and began teaching. The day my insurance was active, the plans for our family began. I quickly became pregnant, no troubles. We were so excited. I told the news about 20 minutes after finding out and it spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed so excited and surprised. I felt great, just like I pictured I would. I was so impatient that I pushed for an early ultrasound. Naive as Jamie and I were, we never noticed that something "wasn't quite right." Being professional and unable to completely predict the future, Gina, my favorite radiologist, stated only the facts: heart beat, measurements, etc. I realize now she was pretty sure what was coming. Looking back we now see the obvious signs, low heart rate, small measurements, but I "knew" I was healthy and wanted this baby, so I "knew" things were fine.
After 9 weeks of complete bliss, I was stopped. While at work I discovered the first step of the crushing process. I was bleeding, but I still felt so well, so I called and my Mid-Wife and scheduled an ultrasound for that afternoon. I'd read all the books, and I "knew" I wasn't high risk, so I was sure it was one of those things that would pass. As I drove home to meet Jamie I called my sister. To my surprise, I broke down at the sound of her voice. I pulled off the road to tell her what was happening. At that moment, I think I realized I wasn't living that untouchable dream anymore. She reassured me enough to get me home. Jamie and I drove in almost silence to the hospital. We told no one else. We walked down the white hall into the exam room at the hospital. Looking back now, I wish I had asked my Mid-Wife to be there, but hind sight's 20-20. As I changed for the ultrasound I realized how terrible things had become. I was in pain now. The tech. was an older woman, who I have come to realize obviously did not cherish the value of a baby's life as much as I was raised to. A young student was with her, she was about my age. The screen was turned away, but I listened. No beautiful beats ever filled the room. She walked blandly to talk to the radiologist. When she came back she said, "We will send the results to your doctor. You can get dressed." I am not sure how horrible I was to her, but I really don't care. I got my cell and told her I was calling my doctor, and I was not leaving without answers. She walked out. The poor young girl was sitting beside me, knowing my heartache to come, and just rubbed my hand. The radiologist walked in. In very insensitive terms told me that what I suspected was true. "No viable fetus was found." Those cold, medical, and heartless terms were repeated over and over in my head for the months and even years that followed.
There is no need for details of my breakdown. Jamie held me, and we cried as the cold reality that our family was not invincible sunk in. Being the man that I fell in love with, Jamie made calls to those closest to us. I remember hating each call. I hated deep inside that we were having to share the hurt that we were feeling. I hated hearing those words come out of his mouth. I hated hearing his voice quiver. My closest family rushed to my side.
I spent the next few days watching my body brutally let go of what I loved so much. I hated myself. Who else was responsible for taking care of my little one? Me. I had failed. Here is where my regrets begin. I began researching details of baby loss. Causes, diseases, future losses. It overwhelmed me. I spent hours at night searching for what was happening, and how I had caused it. Obviously this only hindered my healing. When I read about baby loss I saw that most of the common causes were things I never did. I never refused to change anything in my life. I happily took all the precautions, even the crazy ones, to ensure the health of my baby. I lived healthier than I ever had. I saw and heard mothers complaining about their pregnancies, and living like they were care free teenagers while their babies were struggling to grow inside. This was what took me the longest to overcome. "Why me, when so many women hate the idea of being pregnant and don't want their little babies from the start."
Some people felt strange around the situation, choosing to ignore that anything was happening, but some felt my pain. Though no loss of a baby is the same, any mother who loves her baby at all loves them from the moment they know they are carrying them. I had friends and family, very close ones, who had been where I was. Most just held me and let me fall apart, some tried to lend sympathy, and others said the things that I would never understand until later. I didn't want to talk about it, but I didn't want to think all of the things I was thinking without sharing. I knew Jamie hurt to lose the baby, and he was hurting because he was so helpless watching me.
"Remember, God loves your baby more than you do, Heather." I remember those words piercing my heart. WHAT?? I remember feeling so many conflicting things upon hearing this. At first I could never imagine anyone loving my darling like I had. I know now that my friend was right. It took me months to gain this closure. What had happened was the Lord's plan for my life. He WAS caring for my baby. He was the only one who knew the future and what was best for my baby. This was when my healing started.
"It only makes Heaven sweeter." I felt like a coldhearted slug when someone told me this. Through this whole struggle, I never stopped to think that my baby was with the Lord, and cared for much better than if it were with me. My child wasn't lost, it was only living in paradise. All of those times I asked my sister, "What would it have looked like? What would its voice have sounded like?" I'd never have to think this. I'll just have to wait.
Although I felt like I was doing well, I know a lot of people thought I over reacted. It was still very painful. Mother's Day was difficult. The due date was bittersweet, for I felt my precious Charlie move that day for the first time. I see so many things I did that I wish I had done differently. I defiantly handled the pregnancies of our boys much differently. Few understand our need for paranoia and over protection while I am pregnant, but Jamie and I both agree that this short time with our baby was priceless and nothing less than a perfect gift from God.
As time has passed, I have healed on my own timetable. I still think about what our baby would have been like. I see others who were pregnant the same time, and I think about how our baby would be that age. In a blue box covered in flowers I have a precious red journal packed away. The journal was what I thought would be a log of lifelong changes by the tiny blessing I was carrying. One day I will read the few entries again. One day I might share them, but today I know the Lord has planned out my life perfectly, and He allowed things to happen for His reasons. I have accepted this. I know as I look at Charlie that we would never have him if this had not happened. "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God." I never felt my baby's touch, saw my baby's smile, or sang a song of comfort, but I was very blessed to have this baby to love then and now. One day in Heaven our family will be complete.
"I wouldn't be who I am today, if not for those I've loved along the way."
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t's greater?? I am planning on using this day to tell those that I love just how much they mean to me. I don't throw the word "love" at everyone I know. It's something earned, and not to be said lightly. That being said, I am thankful for "My Love." I am not someone who believes in fate. I believe in a divine plan. I am lucky that I found a best friend, and then made him marry me. Jamie 
and I didn't start out as most couples do. No one set us up. We never had an awkward first date. I never waited by the phone wondering if he would call. We were passed that before we even knew what was happening. We never had to learn the things we loved most about one another, or even the things that drove us crazy. We were friends-friends that fell in love. Looking back I can't believe how simple our love was. I can't help but think about the lines, "Some hearts they just get all the right breaks, some hearts have the stars on their side. Some hearts they just have it so easy, some hearts just get lucky sometimes" That was me. That was us. Did I deserve his friendship? Not really. Did I deserve his smile? Maybe not. Do I deserve the honorable man from a world full of spoiled and selfish boys? No. Do I deserve the tender heart that cuddles my babies and the serious look when they need to be taught right from wrong? Defiantly not. Do I deserve this man who carries his son into a church and sits beside me in prayer? Well, I can say I am sure thankful I have him. This Valentine's Day I don't want chocolate and I really can't keep flowers alive. All I want is time to stop and think, "Yeah, some hearts have it easy, and I thank the Lo
rd it was mine."
