This Woman’s Work, a Reflection

I first heard this Kate Bush song during the Kevin Bacon movie "She's Having a Baby". It's a pretty comical movie and then it turns serious when Elizabeth has complications during labor. Kevin's character is tormented with the "what if's" of life. Wikipedia describes the lyrics as being about being forced to suddenly confront reality and adulthood in times of crisis. The song, and the scene in the movie (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MZWrEfB_VM) are both tear-jerking to say the least. I can't imagine getting to that point of pregnancy and worrying about the health of the baby and the wife…and feeling so helpless.

Sometimes I feel guilty or not normal for grieving Abigail (sorry, Abby) because she was just 6 weeks post-conception. But our little girl had a heartbeat. Just before our first appointment, I read about her forming elbowsJ. Being pregnant brings such joyful anticipation, and of course anxiety. But we were at a point where anxiety had turned to mostly joy. And when I looked at that monitor, and saw her heart failing….well, there aren't words for it. But I just tried to make the doctor feel better, "Oh it's okay. Well, thanks for your time. When is our next appointment then?" I could hardly look at Jeff because I didn't want to lose it.

And then later, when the bleeding started, and went on and on and on. And there's no one to tell the details to—it's not exactly socially acceptable. Every day I felt so alone in it all.

And I had no idea how other women have felt. And I am so sorry for not comforting them the way that I should have done. The saint in my life, my friend Shannon, was the one that dropped what she was doing and came over to cheer me up. Her words on the phone were that she "would dress up in a costume and dance around the living room" if it would help…haha. (it was near Halloween!). She came over with her son and made healthy homemade pizzas without expecting any help from me.

One of the worst parts is that I know a lot of people think that the baby is just a "fetus". They think I've lost no more than a piece of tissue…like a kidney stone or something like that. Of course, they know I lost all my hopes for that baby as well. But I wish they all knew that we lost Abby. We lost a seat at the dining room table that I was ready for her to fill. We lost Izzy's sister (or brother, who knows).

There are so many blessings in our life, which I truly cannot count. But despite those blessings, I think I'm allowed to feel grief for this…and for all the fears that go along with anticipating and hoping for another pregnancy. I can do all I want to get my body ready and healthy, but it won't change what happened- nor will it necessarily prevent it from happening again (60% of miscarriages are just faulty sperm). It comes with so much worry- to which I was so naïve before this loss.

This song just reminds me that God is with us in our coping. It reminds me of the prayers Jeff and I said each night to God for Abby while she still had a bit of a heartbeat and there was still a bit of hope ("I know you have a little life in you yet"). The song in its entirety reminds me that I should let myself grieve, but I just can't sometimes—whether it's due to social pressure, fear that I won't stop crying and I have a lot of things to do (as shallow as it sounds), or whether I'll be taking something away from the people who have had such greater and more tragic losses in life. But I read somewhere that God lets us grieve in spurts, or we would just be too overwhelmed—maybe that's what this is.

One part of this song in particular gives me hope, contentment, peace in my heart and a feeling of being close to Abby: "Give me that little kiss, Give me your hand." I can see those little fingers and imagine kissing that little forehead. I know I won't here on earth, but there are hands all around us needing to be held and kisses that we shouldn't hold back. I'm going to go hold some hands and give away some kisses (probably not to strangers or anything like that, but you get my drift). I love you, Abby—and I won't ever forget you, my BABY, my angel in heaven. I can promise you that.

Pray God you can cope.

I stand outside this woman's work,

This woman's world.

Ooh, it's hard on the man,

Now his part is over.

Now starts the craft of the father.

(I know you have a little life in you yet,

I know you have a lot of strength left.

I know you have a little life in you yet.

I know you have a lot of strength left.)

I should be crying but I just can't let it show.

I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things I should've (would've) said,

That I never said.

All the things we should've (would've) done,

Though we never did.

All the things I should've (would've) given,

But I didn't.

Ohhhhh…..darling…..make it go away.

Just make it go away now…

Give me these moments back.

Give them back to me.

Give me that little kiss.

Give me your hand.

(I know you have a little life in you yet.

I know you have a lot of strength left.

I know you have a little life in you yet.

I know you have a lot of strength left.)

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.

I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking.

Of all the things we should've said,

That we never said.

All the things we should've done,

Though we never did.

All the things that you needed from me.

All that things that you wanted for me.

All that things that I should have given,

But I didn't.

Oh, darling, make it go away.

Just make it go away now.

~This Woman's Work, by Kate Bush

Glory Baby

Today we went for our follow-up appointment.  No heartbeat at all.  She has passed on straight to heaven (can we blame her?).  We left the doctor's office with lots of hope, though.  He did tell us that at my age (over 35) 40-50% of pregnancies will result in miscarriage...ouch.  So, DH (dear Husband) and I decided not to wait.  We had Izzy a year earlier in a race against endo and time, and we have no regrets.  Last week was hard.  This weekend was easier.  And now, being home after the doctors appt, is hard again.  I keep trying to focus on the fact that we have an angel in heaven, watching out for us.  Praying for us.  The doctor said that the first two cycles after a miscarriage are the most fertile.  He said that there's a scientific reason but he feels there may be a spiritual one as well-- a little baby in heaven asking God to cheer up her mom and dad.  And a God who can't say no to such a sweet little angel.  I love that idea. 

Here's a rather uplifting song about a miscarriage.  I consider it a nice tribute to Abigail, Abby.  So I posted it here along with the lyrics.  The video isn't the highest quality, but you can also buy the single on Itunes.

If anyone else is reading this who has had a miscarriage, blessings and healing to you.  We feel your pain.  

Glory Baby by Watermark (click to listen on Youtube)

Glory baby you slipped away as fast as we could say baby…baby..

You were growing, what happened dear?

You disappeared on us baby…baby..

Heaven will hold you before we do

Heaven will keep you safe until we’re home with you…

Until we’re home with you…

Miss you everyday

Miss you in every way

But we know there’s a

day when we will hold you

We will hold you

You’ll kiss our tears away

When we’re home to stay

Can’t wait for the day when we will see you

We will see you

But baby let sweet Jesus hold you

‘till mom and dad can hold you…

You’ll just have heaven before we do

You’ll just have heaven before we do

Sweet little babies, it’s hard to

understand it ‘cause we’re hurting

We are hurting

But there is healing

And we know we’re stronger people through the growing

And in knowing-

That all things work together for our good

And God works His purposes just like He said He would…

Just like He said He would…

BRIDGE:

I can’t imagine heaven’s lullabies

and what they must sound like

But I will rest in knowing, heaven is your home

And it’s all you’ll ever know…all you’ll ever know…

Rest in peace Abby.  We will love you always and hold you close to our hearts, our little angel in heaven.

So Sad

Wow.  I remember talking to a friend who had a miscarriage.  She said she never thought she would ever feel so sad about such a loss.  I'm glad I heard that because today it hit me like a semi-truck.  It was just lingering in the background until I bumped into a woman from my lactation support group from when DD was born.  I came home from the grocery store and started crying because I couldn't find my cell phone.  And I couldn't stop crying.  Hubby helped me put DD to bed and then he and I laid down.  I cried, he rubbed my back, and the two of us fell asleep. 

It feels like we've lost a family member...along with all of our hopes and dreams for that person. 

We didn't plan on getting pregnant so soon after DD.  It would have been a challenge.  But it was one I couldn't wait to take on.  I was looking forward to sorting through old baby clothes, moving the co-sleeper back into our bedroom, and fixing up the guest room to eventually welcome our new lifetime guest.  I had some remorse over things that I didn't get to do before having another baby.  For instance, I wanted to lose all that old baby weight, have a couple drinks with friends, eat some sushi, work on the house, go on vacation, etc.  Most of those little wishes weren't mutually exclusive with having a baby.  Some would just need postponement.  Today, they all feel like stupid insignificant aspirations that were being postponed by something grander. 

Maybe we wouldn't have been able to handle two young kids, so close in age.  Maybe it would have been a financial stress.  Maybe.  But who knows.  Perhaps it was what the doctor described it as... "Not a waste of time".  "A genetic thing that we can't control". All I know is that I still hang on his words that reassured us and made me so thankful I had returned to a Christian medical practice, "You will see your baby one day in heaven". 

He also mentioned that we would feel loss and we will mourn.  So I'm not sure why I'm so surprised.  I mourn the dreams I had.  The rocking, the holding, the loving that I won't get to do with Abigail. 

I just wish, like a child, that I could just feel better right now.  It sucks being sad.  I need to go look up the stages of grief and miscarriage support groups.  I doubt it will speed things along..but at least a group would help me from burying all this sadness and having it crop up later.  And looking stuff up on the computer makes me feel like I'm doing "something".  Maybe it's avoidance.  Maybe.  Wish this mourning stuff were more neat and orderly.  Wish so much that Abigail were here.  Today was the first day that I prayed to God for a miracle-- that we would go into the dr's office on Monday and the heartbeat would be as strong as ever.  Then I would get to nurture this baby in my womb and hug her so tight once she was born.  If it was a "he" we could make his middle name Lazurus.  But there aren't many Lazurus stories.  There are many more of God comforting us in our sorrow.  That reminds me of what Jesus did when he heard that Lazurus had died, and befored he raised him from the dead.  One of the most powerful lines of scripture:  Jesus wept.  There's not much else to add to it.  He wept.  And in doing so he reminded us for all eternity that God weeps with us.  He does not rejoice in our sorrow, or ask us to mask it.  He weeps.  And we are made in His perfect image.  So it is right that we cry too.

John 11:33-36 (New International Version)


33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.
34 "Where have you laid him?" he asked.
"Come and see, Lord," they replied.
35 Jesus wept.
36 Then the Jews said, "See how he loved him!"

God's Promises

I just read a nice phrase that I found in, of all things, a Christmas catalog.  It reads, "God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, nor sun without rain.  But He did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears and light for the way."

That's good to know.  Today we went to the doctor's and discovered that our little Abby-Jo has decided not to stay with us.  Or perhaps God decided for her.  The doctor called it "genetics" and said there's nothing we can do about it.  I knew the second I saw the ultrasound screen.  My eyes combed it for that magical little heartbeat that I was so amazed to see with our first little girl.  Our eyes filled with tears when we heard that first heartbeat.  Today our eyes filled with tears for another reason.  The heartbeat was incredibly slow, almost undetectable, and Abby was small...too small...even for someone who is supposed to only be the size of a kidney bean right now. 

So, it looks as if she is leaving us.  And we are incredibly sad. 

All the other goals can wait.  So can the nap routine.  Right now, we just need to say goodbye.