Holding the Hand of God

Most people who know me know that I'm a pretty open person.  I do have some secrets, of course, but for the most part I tend to share my life with people quite willingly (hence, this blog).  In my early teens, when my girlfriends and I discovered boys/boyfriends, my friends would always come to me for advice, even though I didn't have as much experience with boys as some of them did.  I asked my mom about that once and she told me I was an "observer".  That I paid attention and watched others so intently that I was able to learn some of my life lessons through others' experiences and not my own.  So, maybe that is one reason I am the open person I am.  So, I'll share one of my difficult experiences with you and hope it helps give someone some clarity of their own.

As I've said, I got married 3 1/2 years ago.  Given that I was 39, my husband and I decided to try to get pregnant as soon as possible.  (I was convinced it wouldn't happen easily and would end up at a fertility specialist - boy was I wrong).  Imagine my surprise when I found out I was pregnant 3 months after the wedding!  We nicknamed the little one Bugaboo because we didn't know the sex yet and didn't want to keep arguing over what sex we thought the baby would be. 

We had our first sonogram at 7 weeks and saw our little one just as cute as could be.  We got our picture of the baby and I showed it off to everyone.  At eleven weeks, I started spotting and the doc called me in so we could check on everything.  It was obvious by the blaring silence from the technician that something was very wrong.  The doctor came in and confirmed that the baby had died - apparently just after the first sonogram since he hadn't grown past 7 weeks.  To say I was numb would be an understatement.  Carl and I didn't speak, just held hands and went back to the car.  We had to stop by my parents' house to pick something up and I just stared straight ahead the whole drive.  Carl asked if I wanted to come in and I said no, I'd wait in the car.  While Carl stood at the door and spoke to my father, I decided I should go in and see him.  When I walked into the door, I collapse in my father's arms and the tears and sobs just came falling out.  Looking back, I feel bad for my father because although he's the one I needed because he's always the one to "fix" things and make them better for me, this was not something he could fix or make better and I know he was feeling some of the helplessness I was feeling right then.

We went home and Carl started making phone calls and my mom came over to comfort me.  I chose not to have a D&C, but to let my body do what it needed to do naturally.  There was physical pain involved in that, but nothing compared to the emotional pain I was feeling.  No one really prepares you for something like this, do they?  But then again - how can they?  Its not like I didn't know a miscarriage could happen, but before I lost Bugaboo, miscarriage was just a word.  Now, the word meant I had a hole inside me that would never be completely filled again. 

I know what the doctor said, that something was wrong with the baby and its our body's way of taking care of that.  But that never really sunk in for me.  I just felt horrible sadness and a huge amount of guilt - that somehow I did something wrong.  Not in God's eyes, like he was punishing me, but that somehow I had done something physically to kill my little Bug.  I crawled into my cocoon and talked very little and ate even less.  Even though I knew my little one was already in Heaven, I prayed anyway, that God would take extra special care of my Bug. 

Going back to work was a lot harder than I thought.  Although I was not surprised by how many people knew about it (I worked at a newspaper - everyone talks there), I was amazed and deeply touched by how many women came to not only check on me, but share their stories of miscarriage as well.  Although I'm never sure why it helps, there is no doubt that knowing you are not alone helps you survive tragedies.  And in time, the tears and pain subsided. 

I have my amazing son Tyler now, and he is the joy of my life.  But even while loving and adoring him, I would still find myself thinking of Bugaboo and the sadness and heartache would return.  I know Bug is in a much better place and that my emotions are just selfishness on my part for wanting him/her here with me instead, but its hard not to feel that way.  We are selfish creatures by nature. 

But then one day, I was outside in the front yard with Carl and Ty and Carl was holding Ty's hand and leading him down the sidewalk.  While watching them, I let my mind wander a bit and when I focused back on them, I realized what I was seeing.  The Lord was showing me that that was what HE was doing with Bugaboo.  HE was leading the way, while my little angel was holding the hand of GOD!  And for the first time I felt an incredible and lasting sense of peace.  It doesn't get more amazing than that!