On Thursday I was Pregnant, and on Friday I was Not

 I was only 8 weeks along, but it still feels surreal to wake up in the morning and know that I'm only "partially" pregnant, that Ellie won't have a sibling here in April, and that of the 4 girls in my family, I am the only one who has ever had a miscarriage.

I spent most of the day yesterday in the emergency room, because my doctor was nervous about how much blood I was losing. I knew before I went in that I had probably lost the baby after a long night of many trips to the bathroom, several changes of underwear, soiled sheets,  and lots of tears. I had spent a good deal of time crying, and by the time I got to the hospital I felt emotionally numb. BJ made phone calls and rearranged his work day so he could meet me there and help with Ellie. Doctors and nurses drew blood, set up a port for an IV in case of dehydration, ran and ultrasound, and diagnosed an "incomplete miscarriage"- meaning that there are still remnants in my uterus that will continue to be naturally dispelled over the next few days.

 It's ironic how the the thing that is most upsetting in the beginning, the fact that you are powerless in the situation, is the thing that is the most comforting in the end. This entire process has been out of my hands. When I started bleeding and cramping severely on Friday morning I wished I could make it stop. I knew that it wasn't good for my baby and I was upset that I couldn't do anything to restrict it. Now, however, I trust that my body and Heavenly Father make a good team, and they know what is best for that little baby.

I've been surprised by the physical side of a miscarriage. I always expected that a miscarriage would have a great emotional toll, but I never knew how grotesque and upsetting the physical process would be. The cramping and bleeding continue, and the loss of blood has me feeling weak and tired. For me it has been a drawn out process, and will continue on for a couple more days, and possibly more if my body doesn't remove everything on its own. My heart goes out to the women who have had one or mulitple miscarriages, and especially to the women who were further along than me. I imagine that if I had heard that baby's heartbeat, and seen it alive on an ultrasound screen, I think of knowing the gender, or calling that baby by name this process would have been excruciating. 

I have been so comforted throughout all of this. BJ held me in bed on Friday while I cried and said "I'm sorry" over and over again. He was there at the hospital with me holding my hand during the ultrasound. I am glad that we had just told our families the news, because I wouldn't have wanted to do this in secret. For the first time I have been able to recognize that I can feel the prayers in my behalf. I feel strengthened, and loved, supported, and comforted. And although Ellie Layne has absolutely no freaking idea what is going on, she loves me, and that is all the support I need from her. I am sad she won't have a sibling to play with and torment in April, but some day soon we'll see another little pink line on a pregnancy test, and we'll have a healthy nine months of walks, food aversions, baby preparations, and name deciding.

I feel an increase of gratitude for the daughter I do have, and for my role as mama. My little family is everything to me.