This time last week, I was “with child.” The baby inside my womb was 10 weeks old, growing fingernails and eyebrows. Virtually every organ in its tiny two-inch body was formed and functioning. I was starting to come out of the dreaded first trimester haze of nausea and exhaustion. Friday, I had a doctor’s appointment. Everything looked good. And then, Saturday, I started bleeding. By Sunday, I was cramping quite severely. Quite literally, I was in “mini-labor.” And by Sunday afternoon, it was all over. My body shed the little baby, still in its amniotic sac, and sent his or her soul to live with Jesus.
Intellectually, I understand what happened. Being a medical geek (My motto: “I only know enough to be dangerous.”), I know the facts of miscarriage. Theses days, they are quite common. About 20% of “normal” pregnancies end in a miscarriages, and the rate is higher for women over 35. (A group I’m now in, much to my dismay. Funny how that 35th birthday didn’t sting so much back in January. Being aware of a child growing inside of your body makes you feel young, not old.) There’s virtually nothing you can do to prevent a miscarriage. Almost all of them are triggered by chromosomal and genetic abnormalities.
But emotionally, I feel a little lost. The full impact of my new reality is still sinking in. Last week, I was looking forward to the rest of 2007. Now, it feels flat. Some of the sparkle has left my world.
Tenderhearted Lord, you see when a sparrow falls. You know about this little one, and you see my heart. I rest against your chest, knowing you are my Abba Father. Catch my tears, and hold me close. My hope is in You.