We had my post-op appointment today...
The specialist that performed my surgery is in Downtown Houston, and if you've ever driven there, you know that the traffic is absolutely insane. I remember the day of my surgery, we had to be there right during rush hour. We got stuck in so.much.traffic and then the GPS didn't get us to the right building, and then we missed the turn into the parking garage. I was beyond late, and I had no way to get in touch with who I was supposed to check in with at the hospital. Thankfully, they gave me a call to ask if I was still coming, and I explained what was going on. They were very gracious, no doubt because they know Houston traffic all too well! By the time we got there, my anxiety was pretty high, and my nausea was even worse! All of the stopping and starting in the car from the traffic had sent me over the edge past my already debilitating pregnancy nausea. There are many things that are emotional triggers when you're experiencing a pregnancy loss, and the fact that my body still had all of my pregnancy symptoms even though I was not carrying a live baby anymore was a big trigger for me. It feels as if your body is playing a very cruel trick on you--your belly is still rounded out, you still "look" pregnant (in fact, it was just days before we found out we'd lost our baby girl that I bought my first pair of maternity leggings because my belly had finally popped. They're currently hidden somewhere in the closet. I can't bare to look for them to even get rid of them or to fold and put away in a storage container. I'd rather they just stay lost for now...), and you still "feel" pregnant...except you aren't. There's a part of you that wants to stay that way--to hold your baby in your belly as long as you possibly can because you know she'll never actually get to be held in your arms. Waking up from surgery with our first miscarriage and again with our second, the first thing I did was reach for my stomach and realize my baby was gone. It wasn't all a bad dream; it was the reality. My entire body and spirit felt completely empty. In some ways, I'm thankful they loaded me up with as many anti-nausea meds as they could, because it lessened the blow of everything since I wasn't quite "with it" for several hours.
Another thing at the forefront of my thoughts was work. I always geek out any time I go somewhere and see a grand piano, and this hospital had pianos everywhere! I guess I had remembered that because I told DH to grab my music so I could finish up recording for the show I'm vocal directing right now. I had stayed up late the night before I went in for the initial procedure for everything, and I was SO close to finishing recording all of the vocal parts for the show, but I couldn't quite get them all finished. I think there was a part of me that felt I had to rush back into the busyness of life. I wasn't pregnant anymore, and life had to move on. I was far from ready to move on, though. In fact, I'm still struggling with this. I was almost dreading today's appointment because it's kind of like a final chapter in all of this. Once the doctor "clears" you, it's as if it's all over...except it's not. I still find myself breaking into tears throughout the day. I so desperately want to still be carrying my baby with the wonderful expectation of getting to hold her in my arms in February. I know life has to go on, but it's a struggle to figure out how to resume normal life when your life will never be the same.
Because my first miscarriage brought about so many complications, my doctor chose to be extra cautious in my appointment today, ordering labs and tests and exams that she wouldn't normally do. My HCG levels are still elevated, and it looks like I have some sort of infection. She also ordered a sonogram...it almost felt cruel to have to lie on that table for an ultrasound. (I'm not mad at her for it--she's been so thorough, informative, and extremely compassionate.) I thought back to all of the times we went in for ultrasounds in my other pregnancies and seeing those sweet images on the screen. But today, there was nothing exciting to see on the screen, so I stared up at the ceiling and counted all of the tiles--15 regular sized ones in rows of 3, with a half square to the right and a 1/4 square to the left of each row. There were no pictures to print out with images that you could barely make out of what was the head and what was the rear, there was no heartbeat to hear...just ceiling tiles to count. Because of what was found on the ultrasound, which is likely the cause of all of the pain I've been having since my surgery, I now have to make a choice of how to take care of the issue. Those of you who know me well know that I can be extremely indecisive--I don't even like having to pick a restaurant to eat at, so all of these very big decisions that surround a second trimester pregnancy loss have been excruciating. All I can do is pray and ask God to guide me to the right choices.
When we arrived home, I quickly had to get Annie's makeup on for the kids' tech week rehearsal. While doing that, we discovered the dogs had both gone outside at the same time. This is only an issue when it has rained...which it had, and our pony of a puppy had THE best time rolling around in the mud trying to convince her brother Maxx to join in on the fun. (Being older and wiser, Maxx knew better.) This meant Ruby needed a bath ASAP, but bathing a 60 pound energetic dog is quite the task. As I was working on her, my husband came in to tell me his dad had fallen and his parents were at the hospital. He then came back to tell me they discovered his dad has broken his neck. I literally thought, "Lord, are you serious?? Why?" I honestly don't think we can handle any more surprises...or maybe it's just that I don't WANT to handle anymore surprises. It is definitely a time where it feels like when it rains, it POURS, and everything is left...muddy. (We are still waiting on word for if DH's dad will need surgery or not. Please pray for him, for my Momma2, and for the doctors.)
As I've grappled with all of these thoughts today, the Lord brought to my mind a precious story that He's used again and again to comfort me. I've probably blogged about it before, and you've possibly even heard me share it, but I needed to be reminded of it tonight, so I'm going to share it once again...
Many of you know that my daddy passed away when I was pregnant with Lucy. It was such a hard year for our family: Michael was diagnosed with cancer, and after months of trying to get pregnant, we were told we might not ever be able to have children on our own. However, just a month later, we were pregnant with Lucy, but just a month after finding out we were having a girl, my daddy passed away suddenly. The year ended with the birth of our long-awaited baby girl. It was truly a rollercoaster of a year. As I struggled through my daddy's death, my home church's pastor shared a Truth with me that I have carried with me ever since. He said something along these lines: "Paula-Beth, you prayed and asked God for your husband to be ok. God said, 'Yes,' and you praised Him for it. Then you prayed and asked God to allow you to have a baby. Again, God said, 'Yes,' and you praised Him for it...but this time, God has said, 'No.' He didn't answer you like you wanted Him to, but He wants to know, will you praise Him as much when He says 'No' as you do when He says 'Yes'?"
That story has been brought back to my mind many times over the past 16 years, and I'm thankful God whispered it back to me again today. We prayed and asked God for a healthy pregnancy and to get to love and lead this child, but God said, "No," and He's asking me, once again, will I still praise Him, even in this? At this point, all I can do is ask the Lord to help me get to that point. I KNOW He is worthy of my praise, I know He is at work, and I know He will lead me to that place, but, for now, I just keep crawling into His arms for His comfort as I struggle through these moments. And you know what? My Jesus is so kind to be patient with me, to remind me of His Truth that He is worthy and at work, even in this. I'm clinging to Him in every moment and asking for the strength to glorify Him through this grief. I will say it again and again and again, not because I'm trying to convince myself, but because I refuse to let the Enemy drown out this Truth: "God, you are good, in both the yeses and nos."
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