He Sympathizes and Comforts You

Seven months ago to the day, we were a little over 7 weeks pregnant with our first (and only) baby. Our love for that growing baby was bigger than I ever thought possible. After over a year and half of battling infertility, we were FINALLY expecting our little miracle. I would often hold my belly and pray over our sweet baby. My hubby would constantly touch my stomach and smile. And it seemed as though our dog was always laying her head on it and our kitty was continually trying to snuggle up on it. The little life I've always dreamt of was actually happening. My heart felt like it could explode from happiness!

Until the day my world would come crashing down...

On January 17, 2017, we were heading down to the fertility specialist in Mt. Pleasant to check on our baby for the second time. We had our guards up for so long while trying to get pregnant that after our first ultrasound we finally dropped our guards and allowed ourselves to get excited. Especially for this visit, because our doctor and nurse told us that at this appointment we should be able to see the heartbeat. They also told us that as long as everything looked good we would be transferred back to my regular OBGYN - yay!

On our two hour drive down there we were almost giddy. We sang, talked, laughed and discussed baby names. The joy was overwhelming. Once we arrived at the specialist, we were greeted with smiles and cheer - just like our moods. We were called back where I had the usual blood draw and weight check, again with another smiling face. From there we were taken into the ultrasound room where the nurse mentioned that this ultrasound should be more exciting than the last. Again - yay! Soon enough, our doctor was in the room and starting the ultrasound. 

I could usually see the screen during my ultrasounds, but for some reason it wasn't where I could see it that day. As I laid on the table we all kind of sat quietly and waited. And waited. And waited. I started to feel nervous because it never took this long for any other ultrasound. But I tried to remain hopeful. I remember Seth holding my hand, but I couldn't even look at him because I was scared to see his face. After what felt like forever, our sweet doctor rubbed my leg and said the words I never wanted or expected to hear, "Give me a minute, I'm not seeing what I want to see". My heart sank. Seth gripped my hand tighter and I fought back tears. After a minute, the doctor turned the screen towards us and explained that he did not see a flicker (heartbeat) like he expected to see and that there wasn't much growth since our first ultrasound. Still no words out of either of our mouths and I had yet to look at Seth - because I knew I would lose it if I saw him. Once he finished showing us the ultrasound, in the best way he could, our doctor explained to us that he believed we would lose our baby. He told us how sorry he was. He told us several times that there was nothing I did or could have done to prevent this and that it wasn't my fault. He offered a recheck ultrasound for later in the week - we agreed. Before our doctor left the room, he gave both Seth and I a hug and told us (again) how sorry he was - there was sadness all over his face. He told us to take all the time we needed and to leave when we were ready. The most heartbreaking moment in my life followed. 

Once the doctor left the room, Seth stood up and hugged me as I sat on the table. As soon as we hugged, we simultaneously began to sob. I remember whispering, through my tears, "I'm sorry" at one point. I have never seen or heard my husband cry so hard in my life. After several minutes of crying, we composed ourselves enough to walk out of the room. A nurse was waiting for us and told us how sorry she was and that we could just head straight to our car. We fought back the tears as we walked outside and got in the car to leave. We broke down into more sobs once we got into the car. The pain we were feeling isn't something I can explain. We prayed and wanted this baby so desperately, yet we were being told we were most likely going to lose our child. 

Heartbroken is an understatement. 

Before we drove out of the parking lot, I remember telling Seth that I was choosing faith and wanted to pray for a miracle. We agreed that until our follow-up ultrasound, we were going to speak life over our baby and hope and pray for Jesus' healing. We called our parents as we sobbed to them to tell them the news and ask for their prayers. They passed the news onto our siblings. I somehow managed to call my best friend and tell her. Seth called our pastor and good friend and asked for prayers. I have never heard or seen my husband cry like he did that day. It was so painful to see him hurting like that.

Our drive home that day is something I'll never forget - we cried the entire two hours. O

The 3 days that followed were a blur. I've never prayed so much in my life. We spoke life. We thanked Him for our child. We had an army of friends and family doing the same. Although we prayed and hoped for a miracle, we were also trusting God's plan and will for our lives - whether it was the outcome we wanted or not. 

That Friday we drove back down to Mt. Pleasant. It was a quiet trip down there, but oddly enough we weren't as emotional as I expected we would be. While driving down there we suddenly saw a bald eagle fly across the road - how neat! Then a several miles down the road we saw another bald eagle flying beside us. And believe it or not, a third bald eagle flew across the road further into our trip. Until that point, I had NEVER seen a bald eagle flying while I was driving. So naturally, I googled the symbolism of a bald eagle. The first thing that came up was "strength". To this day I can't find that website, but in that moment, strength is what we needed and what we had. We arrived at our follow-up appointment only to get the sad confirmation that we would definitely lose our precious baby. It was beyond tough to hear, but we had strength that day.

On our way home, we stopped to grab some lunch. We sent out a group text to our families and received an outpouring of love and compassion. As we were waiting for our food, a text from Seth's oldest brother came through. The text read, "God will work this in you both for good, even when it's hard for you to see right now. God knows what it's like to lose a child and He sympathizes and comforts you". 

Y'all. That touched my heart and gave me such peace. That was the first time I had even thought about that. God knows exactly what it's like to lose a child. Wow. I'm not alone in my hurt and pain. Because He knows. He sympathizes and comforts me. That was (and is) so profound and moving. 

Contrary to popular belief, losing a child through miscarriage is not a one day, one time thing. The bleeding started that Friday night and continued for an entire week (and yet I still had to have a D&C). That week was physically painful. And knowing the pain I was feeling was because we were losing our baby made for a roller coaster of emotions. I cried every time I went to the bathroom. I would hold my stomach due to painful cramps instead of excitement of knowing our baby was growing inside me. 

I cried every single day for a month. 

During that time, I never thought that I would be able to go a day without tears. But every day turned into every other day, then once a week, once a month and now just occasionally. You never truly get over the loss, you just learn how to cope and you draw strength from God to get you through. 

Most importantly, I took comfort in God. I knew that He would work our pain out for His good. I took comfort in knowing that He knows what it's like to lose a child. I knew that He sympathized with me. He is The Great Comforter and the Perfecter of our Faith. 

If you've suffered the loss of a child, place your heart in His hands. Look to Him for strength. Feel the loving arms of Jesus wrap around you. He will comfort you. He will sympathize with you. He loves you - and He loves your child. 

Always remember, He sympathizes and comforts you, sweet friend.