When Your Fears Become Your Reality

These last three weeks have been one of the toughest I believe our family has endured.

First off, I would just like to have a disgustingly sweet moment to love on my husband. He is beyond incredible! I don’t deserve this man but the Lord saw it fit for him to be my husband. Every day I fall more in love with the man, husband and father that he is.

Honestly, I am at a loss for words. So please bear with me as I try to share what these last few weeks have looked like.

Jacob and I found out we were expecting our second baby back in early September. With all we had been through with our son Jace, we were hesitant but ready to take on whatever challenges might come our way. Little did we know that our fear of losing a child would become a reality.

We were excited, but beyond nervous. I think me more so than him. When we were pregnant with Jace I wanted to tell the world and Jacob was more reserved. This time around our roles were reversed. I was afraid that something was going to be wrong. Our first son was born with multiple airway malformations and I was afraid of something similar happening this time around.

Jace came with us to our first appointment and we had told him that there was a baby in mommy’s tummy and that he was going to be the best big brother. He is so sweet and loving, and loves to be my little helper. I was excited to share such sweet new memories.

There I was laying on the table looking at my beautiful family as I turned to my right to look at the screen. There was a little dark sac…and then another dark sac. I looked quickly and in my head thought, “I’m no ultrasound tech, but I swear that was two!”

The ultrasound tech didn’t say anything, so I kept watching until we saw our precious little baby’s heartbeat fluttering away. Then she said, “You’re still too early to hear the heartbeat audibly, but let’s see how fast it’s beating.” The baby’s heart rate was 115. I responded, talking indirectly to Jace, “115, wow that’s low—lower than yours was, Jace.” The technician didn’t seem too alarmed, then she told us that the doctor would talk to us more “about all of this”.

I never really thought or processed what she had said, I was just so excited. We went into a room to wait for my doctor, and we were talking with Jace and showing him his baby brother or sister. (Which we temporarily named “baby brother or sister blob”).

My doctor came in and said, “Congratulations!” We talked about the ultrasound findings and she said, “Did the ultrasound tech mention anything to you about the vanishing twin?” I said, “Excuse me? I knew I wasn’t going crazy. There are two sacs?” She responded, “Yes but one is just an empty sac and not a pregnancy.”

She asked if I had been spotting at all, and told me not to be worried if I did begin to notice some, since it was to be expected with the “vanishing twin”. Then she brought up the fact that our baby’s heart rate was low. She scheduled a second ultrasound for the following week, just to check the heart rate again. Overall she didn’t seem too concerned, and because of that, I was trying not to be either.

She explained to us that a baby’s heart rate doesn’t start at zero and go to one-hundred-and-seventy just like that. She said that it takes some time, and because I was early in my pregnancy, it was to be expected. I asked her what happens if the heart rate continues to be low. Her response was slightly alarming, “it won’t be—it will either be very strong or not be there at all.”

After hearing those words I tried very hard to put it in the back of my mind. I told myself that everything was going to be fine. “I’m healthy, I exercise, and I drink tons of water. I eat well, or at least try to eat well most of the time. There is no need to worry.”

Since finding out we were pregnant again, Jacob had wanted to tell everyone. Every time he said that, I shared with him that I was scared to tell people. I was terrified that something was going to be wrong. Even so, we decided to share our exciting news with our family because we wanted them to be praying for our sweet baby, and for our next appointment.

The following week, I was spotting a little and was feeling a little scared. (I never spotted with Jace’s pregnancy.) But then, I remembered what the doctor had said about spotting related to the vanishing twin. I told myself that that was why it was happening.

When we returned for our follow-up appointment, the ultrasound technician could not find a heartbeat. The words, “I’m so sorry, I’m not finding any heartbeat” will stick with me until I die. I sobbed on that table. Weeping in my husbands arms, as Jace looked on, very concerned, but having no idea what was happening.

For whatever reason, one we may never know, the Lord decided that our precious baby’s life was only going to be between seven and eight weeks long. The sadness that came over me was like something that I had never felt before.

When we arrived home after our appointment, I had Jacob take a pregnancy picture of me. With Jace, I took one fairly early on, but I just hadn’t gotten to it yet this time around. I wanted to have a photo to look back on.

Everyday has been tough, especially waiting for my body to process and deliver the baby (which has been an entire process that included a late-night hospital visit). For a while, I had no significant bleeding, and I went for about two weeks with nothing happening at all. It was difficult having to walk around knowing that the baby inside me was no longer alive.

I sat on the couch for about a week, barely got out of my pajamas and didn’t shower for days. When I wore makeup it only ended up on the sleeve of my sweatshirt (I know, super gross) or I wiped it off with a tissue anyway, so I didn’t bother. Honestly, I didn’t care.

I wanted to share our story because I know that we’re not the only ones who have felt the pain of a miscarriage. We are not the only family that has struggled with this. We want to be a light, and to share our struggles and our heartaches, because they are real.

Our story might look a little different than yours, but our pain is the same. We mourn with those who mourn. My heart truly aches for anyone who is reading this and has gone through—or is going through—a miscarriage.

Me telling you that you are not alone isn’t going to make you feel any better or make your pain go away. I’m truly sorry from the bottom of my heart that you have to endure such pain and loss. My desire is to give you hope.

Jacob and I know we will see our baby one day, and we can’t wait for that day. To be able to see our sweet little child’s face. To see if they look like their dad, or if I had one baby that looked a little more like me. To be able to wrap our arms around them. What joy it brings me to know and have that hope.

My hope in sharing our story is to love on those who might need it. Our lives were never promised to be easy, and I believe the struggles and trials we face will only make us stronger. Stronger in our marriages, and our relationships with others. They also make you reevaluate what’s important in life.

The trials you face can teach you to love unconditionally, fall to your knees in prayer, and have a bigger heart for those who are walking a similar road.

To the women that have had or are currently going through a miscarriage, I am so sorry. Nothing you did caused this to happen.

I am a believer and my faith has gotten me through many such trials. Having faith doesn’t mean we don’t struggle or face hardship. It doesn’t make our hearts hurt any less or the pain go away. For my husband and I, our faith gives us hope, knowing we will see our baby one day when the Lord calls us home.

Being sad, staying in your pajamas and sobbing uncontrollably is perfectly fine—but please don’t stay there. Allow yourself to grieve and be sad. Don’t try to repress it, because it will just hurt more. I promise you, you won’t stay in that state forever. When your fear becomes your reality, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Matthew 147:3