Be Fruitful

Also in April, we found out that I was pregnant. I was ecstatic and I thought being due sometime between Clara (12.21) and Hazel's (12.26) birthdays was hysterical. I was thrilled to have three December babies. It's my favorite time of year by far. I know so many friends and a few family that are due within a few months of December and I was so excited. On May 23rd, we found out I was going to have a miscarriage.

Due to a much better state emotionally and not having near the same stresses I had with my previous miscarriage, I assumed I'd be able to handle this better. But, I experienced the exact same sadness and that surprised me. I don't have the depression, just the sadness. Sadness over everything that was anticipated that will no longer happen (for now, anyway): telling people, finding out the gender, having a baby(!), having a baby at the same time as friends, etc., etc.

With that being said, I have had so many thoughts going through my head during the last several weeks. First and foremost, I don't know that I can ever reconcile the command to be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth with the struggles people deal with when trying to keep that commandment. I know of no other commandment that too often people are not able to follow through on despite their solid efforts to try and their sincere desires. I know we're all given different trials and struggles to help us become the people we need to become, but this one is just so ironic in my opinion.

I've also been reminded that peace and pain/sadness/heartache can coexist. I have felt so much sadness, but also so much peace and reassurance that even though it's hard, there is a greater plan. It's hard to understand why my "righteous" desires aren't what's best for me and my family at this time, but I still know that's the case. I know everything happens for a reason even if some things don't seem to make a bit of since. I know I need to trust in the Lord's timing. I also know as I look back at some of my other trials and struggles, unanswered prayers have resulted in my most tremendous blessings.

I love my doctor. When I had my last miscarriage, he cried, gave me a hug and told me if Heavenly Father wanted me to have a healthy baby and something was wrong with that one, I'd have a miscarriage. With this one, he told me how it seems like miscarriages come in waves for his patients and he's had a lot the last few weeks. He said he hopes this is the last one because he hates it. He said this is not why he went into this business. He is genuine, sweet and never downplays the difficulty of having a miscarriage. I also respect him for not sugar coating anything. He's very honest. He said usually miscarriages are about 1/6 of all pregnancies, so to have 2/4, that's definitely not good odds. Obviously, that's another reason for me to not start gambling. :) He explained that there is nothing I could have done to prevent or avoid it. Deep down, I know that, but it's hard not to feel like my body is a little faulty considering my odds being much higher than a "normal" person.

The day I found out, I was alone in the car a few times throughout the day. That's when I cry the most and that's when it hurts the most. There were a few times where I felt desperate to escape the feelings I was having. Surely that's why people drink and use other substances to mask their feelings. In that moment, I wanted more than anything not to feel what I was feeling. A sad heart really hurts and I wanted it gone right then. Since I don't abuse substances beyond sugar and water and I wasn't feeling real hungry, I just hummed a song. Us Mormons typically think of it as a missionary song, but the last four lines, as follows, just popped into my head and were rather fitting:

So trusting my all to Thy tender care,

And knowing Thou lovest me,

I'll do Thy will with a heart sincere,

I'll be what You want me to be.

We had told our family on Mother's Day that I was pregnant and a few friends found out as well. My last miscarriage happened a few weeks sooner and we hadn't told anyone, so we didn't have to un-tell anyone. Telling friends and family that it wasn't going to work out was hard and kind of awkward. It took me about 15 minutes to think how to phrase the text. Every time someone text back or called (I didn't feel like talking, so I didn't answer the phone), I cried because I was reminded of the situation and I also knew I was loved. I kept wondering why I would cry when someone said, "I'm sorry" and I realized it's because I had a reason for them to be sorry. I wish I didn't have a reason for people to say sorry. I was thankful for the apologies, just not loving that I had a reason for apologies.

When I got back from the doctor, Hazel asked me, "Did you get a baby?" That made me cry, of course. Then Clara came and asked me if I got to see the baby so I had to explain to her what was happening. She started crying. The next day she brought it up again and said, "That's so sad." I told her it was but it was also a good opportunity to bear testimony to her that even though we don't understand and it is sad and hard, it's important to have faith and trust that this is what Heavenly Father wants for our family.

It's so easy to focus on our misfortune and look at people that have what we want. How do some people have 6 babies with 6 pregnancies? How do some people make it through having no miscarriages? Ever? Why can't I have two consecutive viable pregnancies? How do some people never have issues getting pregnant? After I spent a fair amount of time feeling sorry for myself and feeling overwhelmed with my aching heart, I thought about my friends who haven't had children yet. I thought of people who have grown and never had kids. I thought of people who were never able to have their own kids and have adopted. I wondered why in our moments of grief it's so easy to compare ourselves to people that have what we're grieving for instead of being grateful for what we have. Sure it takes 5 months to get pregnant, but what about the person that it took 2 years? Sure I'd like 4 kids, but what about the person that always just wanted one? By late afternoon, I almost felt guilty for being so sad about this when I have two brilliant, incredible little children. I almost felt greedy thinking that I should ask to be blessed with another one. (Is there such thing as righteous greed?)

Now, I'm okay until I think about it too much. I usually cry when I do. If I do something to try to get my mind off it, like go shopping, when I'm shopping I'll think about why I'm there and the feelings all resurface. On top of being emotional, it's frustrating knowing how far back it sets things. I really struggled with that when I miscarried between Clara and Hazel. It had taken several months to get pregnant. Then I miscarried and it took several months to get pregnant again. From the time we started trying to when I found out I was pregnant with Hazel, it was almost exactly a year. This time, it took several months to get pregnant and I miscarried a few weeks later than the first. I feel like I wasted two months of my life being tired and worthless. I slacked off majorly on my work because I was so exhausted and now, we're back to square one with the expectation that it will likely take several months to get pregnant again. I'm grateful I was only 10 and a half weeks (yes the half counts), but starting over is still hard.

For the record, being sad with my own misfortune doesn't make me less excited for friends and family that I know are having babies or that are pregnant.

Jason isn't sad about it, but unlike last time, I was a lot more open with him about how I felt so even if he wasn't experiencing the same feelings and emotions as I was, he would kind of understand what I was going through physically and emotionally. Not having that support last time was really hard and I didn't want a repeat. He's been very helpful and sarcastic just enough to make me laugh. With that said, I've been grateful for family and girlfriends that knew. Some of them know firsthand what it's like to have a miscarriage and also to not have control over the timing of their family. Some of them can only imagine what it's like, but they offer support and love regardless. I had flowers, treats, a heart attacked door, a homemade apple pie (fresh from the oven) and offers to bring dinner. It makes it just a little easier to feel the peace and comfort when I am being served.

It's been 10 days since I found out things weren't right and just a week since I miscarried, yet it feels like it's been months. I feel like I'm well on my way to starting over and am grateful my energy is mostly back and for the precious family I've already been generously blessed with. God is good.