The Unthinkable

Yesterday, Cory and I went to our ultrasound appointment and received heartbreaking news. Unfortunately, I had an early miscarriage and I am no longer pregnant.

There are many things I’ve been feeling since then. For the most part, right now I just feel like I’m in some kind of nightmare. This can’t be reality, because this was not supposed to happen. I had complete and utter faith that everything was fine, and hearing the ultrasound technician tell me that there was nothing in my uterus was like a sick joke. It was impossible, she must have somehow made a mistake because I was eight and a half weeks pregnant and that was the only possibility I thought existed. But then I didn’t wake up, and I knew that somehow, beyond my understanding, this was the new reality. When I went home and took a pregnancy test just to make sure, I was slapped in the face with a big fat “not pregnant.” Somehow, the unthinkable had happened.

After our initial shock and disbelief, Cory and I spent some time just crying together. Since then, I’ve noticed that it comes in waves. For a while, I’ll feel fine and optimistic about the future and at peace with the situation. And then I’ll start to think about it, and it all comes rushing back; anger at God, a feeling of betrayal, despair, grief, confusion, and a sense of hopelessness. The realization that I will never fully understand God’s ways, and that for all I know, it may not be in his plans for me to have a baby at all.

Yet through it all, I do know one thing, which is that God loves me and he has plans for me that are good. It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck sometimes (understatement) or that I won’t feel incredibly gut-wrenching pain in the process. But I can still hold on to the small sliver of hope in knowing that he will use it all for the good, somehow.

When I decided to publicly share that I was pregnant so early on, I knew that it was a theoretical possibility that I would have to publicly share news like this, too. I decided that it was worth it, because I want to let God use my story for his glory, whatever that story looks like. Sharing this sad news with my friends and family has been helpful and relieving, in many ways. Knowing that I don’t have to carry this pain all by myself gives me strength to face it. Knowing that other people are crying with me gives me the strength to grieve. Cory and I appreciate all of your prayers, very much. Other than that, we just need time to heal.

Even though our baby was only a few weeks in the making before God decided to take him/her to heaven early, we know that he/she was a person with a soul. Our baby is now living out his/her eternal life, at God’s side. Since we didn’t know the gender, Cory and I have decided to name the baby Sam. We want to honor Sam as our first child, even though we will not get to meet him or her until we go to heaven ourselves. We’ll never forget our baby.

Support and encouragement in the comments is always welcome. Thank you for sharing the pain with me; it truly does help.