I did not make it to church today. I was tormented about whether to go because I knew it's where I needed to be, but facing people today seemed too hard. I haven't been in public (or even left my home really) in 3 days.
Fortunately, as I was trying to decide what to do, God showed me a little mercy and the miscarriage began on its own.
I am grateful for that, as it seems I avoided a D&C (surgery where they basically scrape the uterus). A D&C is rough anyway, and because I am over-sensitive to anesthesia it would have been even tougher. Usually, a D&C is necessary for women who are further along in their pregnancy, but I had been warned that some women on Prometrium need to have them too, even if they lose the pregnancy early.
Because I was missing church, I tried to find some way to feel spiritual today. I was hoping it would help bring me some peace. I pulled out my copy of "Fertile in our Faith", an infertility book written from a LDS perspective. I read the whole book, reading the portion on pregnancy loss twice. I was looking for something (anything!) that could bring me comfort.
The pregnancy loss chapter focused on learning to 'release the hug'. It is said that when a child hugs you, never be the first one to release that hug; always hold on until the child lets go first.
In the book, the author relates this to pregnancy. Pregnancy is your opportunity to "hug" your child and, just as it is outside the womb, you should never be the first to let go. The author encourages the reader to enjoy pregnancy, savor those moments, and hold on to hope.
That is one thing I can say about my brief time in pregnancy, I hugged our baby. Although I was nervous and scared of losing the pregnancy, we still savored each moment we had in that state. We celebrated, gave prayers of gratitude, and spread that happiness to others around us who wanted it almost as much as we did. Not for one minute did I begrudge anything about that experience: the waiting it took to get there, the pregnancy symptoms I was having, the overwhelming feeling that life was going to change. I held onto our baby as hard and as tight as I could. It ended up not being enough, but I tried 100%.
The author goes onto say, if the time does come that your baby releases the hug, it is helpful to acknowledge the loss in a tangible way. This is true even for people like us, who lose their baby so early in the pregnancy. It was a relief to read this because I hadn't really given myself permission to do that. I felt silly, like our baby wasn't "real" enough yet to other people for us to grieve over.
There were suggestions in the book on how to acknowledge the loss. None of them seemed quite right for us, so I researched around a bit more and found something that felt good. This brought me some comfort.
One thing I have learned the last few days is how fleeting those moments of peace and comfort really are. Seems I mostly just try to make it from one peaceful moment to the next, without falling apart in between. But this morning I had the opportunity to feel comforted for quite some time, and for that I am grateful.
Where, when my aching grows,
Where, when I languish,
Where, in my need to know,
Where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand
to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.