Our Wonderfully Made

ALL THE FEELINGS – THE GOOD, THE BAD & THE UGLY

“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.” Less than two weeks ago, these words once again pierced our hearts. Numbness. We already knew before she spoke the words. We had been in this place before. We now stared at the same still image of our little baby on the screen at our 12 week ultrasound, as we did one year ago with Lyric. No movement, just a perfectly formed, tiny little body. At first I felt stupid for believing, for hoping, for praying that this time would be different. That this would be the baby we would welcome home. Always an optimist, I wanted to believe that this would be the baby we would be privileged to hold, to kiss, and to raise. We stayed, motionless, in the room while the ultrasound technician silently bowed her head, putting her tools down, and walked out of the room. Laying on the bed with the gel still on my stomach, our little baby frozen on the screen, I shook with tears.

We had been anxiously awaiting the “big” 12 week ultrasound for a few weeks, even more so after our OB was unable to hear the heartbeat via Doppler at our 10.5 week prenatal appointment. She reassured us that this is quite normal, and nothing to be concerned about. Well, from someone coming off of two back-to-back losses, I was quite concerned. Part of me wanted to drive on over to Babymoon (a private ultrasound clinic here in Winnipeg), the minute we left her office. However, I felt a call to wait. That this would be a time to grow our patience and faith. That this was out of my control, and to hold faith that this baby was meant to be, despite any feelings that were telling me otherwise.

I was busy keeping myself busy – distracted – to try and take my mind off this constant anxiety that something was not right. That weekend, Branton and I watched La La Land for the first time (also my new FAV movie). The movie was so well done; it inspired me, moved me, and allowed me to feel. Once the movie ended, I felt a wave of emotion hit, and I broke down. I cried that I felt as if we had already lost this baby – it just did not feel like she was with me anymore. I couldn’t explain it, but my body knew. Regardless, I so badly wanted to be wrong. We prayed. We had our friends, family, church support, all pray over us. And then I felt a bizarre sense of peace. A peace that I knew was certainly not from my own doing. There is no possible way I was capable of feeling this peace during all the anxiety and worry. I remember saying to Branton that if the news was bad, then this baby truly must not be meant to be for us at this time, as badly as I wanted her to be.

Leaving that room after receiving confirmation of my fear, this peace did not stop the heartbreak, sadness, and anger. Oh, I was SO ANGRY. I did not want to be hopeful. Or grateful. Or happy, or trusting, or faithful, or any of that. I was just angry. Angry that this happened again. That everything seemingly failed me. In that moment, I was exhausted from being patient, and from trying, and trying, and trying. Of being optimistic that things would work out. That, maybe, I needed only a little bit more patience, more trust, more faith, and things would turn around. I was angry that I had no control or ability to fix this. How was I supposed to walk around like a normal person after this news? How were we to carry on from here? How, was I to accept the fact that I now, knowingly, was carrying around my baby that was gone? It all felt morbid, eerie, and wrong.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the fits of tears shortened, the heaviness of my heart lifted ever so slightly, and I am now lifting my head once again. My eyes still water when I talk aloud about her. My heart still breaks a little with each memory of carrying her, albeit a short time. But we are healing. And we are not giving up on this desire in our heart to be parents.

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

– Psalm 139:13-16

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WHAT’S IN A NAME?

I desperately wanted to name this little one, to make her known. I knew a few things I wanted her name to encompass: trust, and faith in our good God. After searching for the right name, there it was: Lael {pronounced LAY-el}. Meaning; Belonging to God. She is now right where she belongs. With her brother Lyric and sister Arianna. Keeping Grandma W busy running after them, I’m sure. 🙂 Giving her a name made me smile, and gave me some sort of comfort.

I sense she was a spitfire. With her over-achiever hcg levels, a speedy & strong heartbeat at our 8 week ultrasound (187 bpm!), I am so proud of her. That may sound silly, but that is truly how I feel! I can’t explain it. It doesn’t really make any sense, does it? But, there it is. Pride. Love.

“I have called you by name;
You are mine.”

– Isaiah 43:1

MY SILVER LININGS

“It Takes a Village”.

Boy, is this ever true. My silver lining is my Village. We shared our pregnancy early on with a few trusted friends, our family, and our small group from church. These people were not only there for us when we received news at 12 weeks, but were there every step throughout our pregnancy. Checking in, going for coffee, sending words of encouragement, praying for us, being a listening ear. I cannot express how grateful I am for each and every one of them. And then, when the storm hit, without missing a beat, there they were. Sharing in our heartbreak, sending their love, flowers, food, and on and on.

I am so grateful to also be part of an amazing group of women who make up a yoga infertility support group called Inconceivable. They just get it. They’ve been there. They know this heartache. They know this grief. They also are aware of the need to just be there – no advice. No “at least you know you can get pregnant”. No “you can always try again”. No “it wasn’t meant to be”. Just pure love, comfort, and listening ears. Reflecting on each woman in this group, I really came to the awareness of how beautifully caring, brave, loving, and STRONG these women are.

And, although we wait for our happy ever after, I must reflect and be thankful that I have already received my happily ever after. He is my rock, my comfort, and my high school sweetheart. It is by grace alone that I have this great love, for I certainly cannot think of any reason why I deserve it. Why I was chosen to spend the rest of my life with this loving, sweet, sincere, creative, strong, adoring man, I will never understand. His love humbles me, excites me, and lifts me higher. I laughed (through some tears), as even my naturopath recognized this amazing man for who he is, coaching me through this loss saying, “You have an AMAZING support in your husband. You are SO lucky.” He is right – I am the luckiest girl in the world.

And, although I was so angry at Him, and wanted to cry out and yell at Him, and question Him, not understanding why… without my faith in my God, my Saviour Jesus, I am certain I would not have carried on as I have. For I know where each of our precious babes are resting now. In His arms, born into a perfect heaven. Something I alone could not give them. And I trust that there is a plan, and although it is certainly not my plan, I trust that it is a better plan. Bigger than I could ever dream or imagine. And I am giving that up to Him. I am surrendering that to Him, and will challenge myself to choose wonder over worry in this journey ahead. Wonder at how He will work this for good. What is in store for us?

“So be truly glad.
There is wonderful joy ahead.”

– 1 Peter 1:6