No heartbeat.
My story begins back in July 2014. I found myself with a pregnancy test in hand, toddler in my buggy, and sitting in the family restroom at Target. My heart- jumbled with emotions of peace, excitement, anxiety and sheer thankfulness that I would mother a second child. I was headed home from my husband’s family reunion in Tennessee when I decided my curiosity could not be suppressed anymore. I knew the results of that test would show two lines, proving what I already knew to be true. I could barely wait to tell Blake the good news!
Family day was the next day and Asher and I got to watch Blake fly a TH-67 for the first time. It was an exciting day to celebrate Blake’s achievements and low-and-behold an even better day to surprise him with a babysitter for Asher, a dinner date, and the news of another child!
Fast forward over the next few weeks where my anxiety was low because unlike my previous pregnancy, I had no sickness. It was a glimmer of hope that I wouldn’t spend the next 15 weeks with my head in a porcelain throne. I felt amazing. I spent days dreaming of being a mom-of-two, making plans to have a very different second delivery, researching the newest baby gear, and riddling names that would best suit my new baby.
August 24. Something was really wrong. I hadn’t felt this way since becoming pregnant. For sure my nausea wasn’t beginning. Everything ached, my stomach throbbed and a host of other symptoms began. What was going on?
Let’s pause for a moment. Like my notions (often jumbled), frequently my emotions are the same. I can think positively sometimes while other times thinking straight to the worst possible scenario. In this case, the thought of miscarriage never (and when I say never, I really mean it) crossed my mind. Even when the bleeding began I was still so encompassed by this child that I attributed it to placenta issues that the doctor told me may cause some spotting. A nurse friend suggested I take a trip to the ER to find the culprit of the bleeding. I was still in total denial even after she warned me that this could be a sign on miscarriage.
I was optimistic as ever as we dropped off Asher at a dear friend’s home. Blake and I held hands as we made the drive on that beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon.
My attitude began to shift and I steadily became more uneasy the longer we stayed at the ER. Test after test and finally the doctor said she had ordered an ultrasound. I was wheeled down the sterile hallway that was lit only by a few sporadic lights. The room was frigid and dark. The ultrasound technician must have left her delightful bedside manner at home that morning. She was as cold as the room. I laid up on the table trying to position my head so that I could see the screen that she had tilted away from me so that only she could see. Blake stepped closer to her and peered over her shoulder. I know we were in that awful room for a mere 15 minutes but it felt like an hour. She avoid my questions and repeatedly said, “I cannot answer any of your questions. The doctor will see you when we are done.” This was like no ultrasound I had ever had. Typically, I can see what is happening, watch the heartbeat dance across the screen, and see what looks like a little bean in my belly. Tears fell from my cheeks. This lady wouldn’t even let me see the screen. What was going on? Blake’s face could be described no better than deer-in-headlights. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me and he too, avoided my questions. They wheeled me back to my holding room where tears wouldn’t stop. Blake held me and reassured me that everything was going to be okay. “Not until you tell me what you saw!” He cringed when I asked did he see the heart beat on the screen. His answer was not what I wanted to hear but he continued to say the doctor would be in to answer our questions soon.
We waited over an hour before the nurse came in to check on us and said we would be sent home soon. I asked her what the ultrasound had shown when she replied, “Has the doctor been in to see you yet, Mrs. Altman?” Of course this spiraled into another episode of tears and sobs because the doctor had yet to tell us the results.
When the doctor came in she gave me the most pathetic gesture followed by, “Baby has no heartbeat. I’m sorry Mrs. Altman but you can always try again.”
No heartbeat. My head fell straight to my hands as I burst into a mourning that I had never experienced before. My child was gone. I was suppose to protect this baby while in residence in my belly. I had failed. My baby was dead.
What happened after was a blur. How do you sort through these emotions? Devastation. Anger. Resentment. Fear. Sadness. When we arrived home, my sweet sister in Christ met me at the door with no questions but an embrace that held more than just me physically. She offered a prayer to the Lord and petitioned on my behalf. I will never forget her saying, “Lord, show us how this is to be for your glory. Use this as you write Kinsey’s story.”
Kinsey’s story. How in the last few months has the Lord used this? Let’s start by saying his grace was so abundant with me. My time with the Lord wasn’t always spent in a peaceful state. Often I said things out of anger and questioned who He was and why my child was gone. I lashed out at my husband and found myself fluctuating between sorrow and the joy that comes from knowing the Lord. Was this how I was supposed to act as a daughter of the King? Of course not. I often had an attitude of selfishness which is so sinful. But God continually showed His great love to me. He sent me friends that prayed for me and over me. He allowed me to go home to my family and mourn the loss surrounded by love and compassion. He also sent a forever friend whom I had merely crossed paths with months before as an acquaintance who helped me by answering tough questions about how she dealt with the loss of her baby. He brought people and opportunities into my life for me to talk about my baby and connect with mommas who had experienced this too. All of this contributes to the healing process He did on my heart.
“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
This has been my motto verse since this happened. A constant reminder that in tragedy there is celebration. Not in myself or the circumstance but who Christ is to me and what He has done FOR me.
Today is my D-day– the day I was to deliver my sweet bundle of joy. My heart still mourns the loss and tears find me to remind me of what was lost. But in the midst of it all, the joy of the Lord remains in my heart as I catch glimpses of how He is writing Kinsey’s story for His good.
jumblednotions 