Abigail's Story (1 of 2)

This birth story will actually start much earlier than most. Due to the difficult time I had with Shoshana's conception, development, birth, and post partum period we made peace with the idea that I may never be ready to have another child, though the concept of having an only child irked me. It was simply so traumatic, so dangerous for both myself and our child, that Tim and I needed to feel a deep sense of security with my emotional state, our support system, and our relationships with our Heavenly Father before even considering willingly walking through that door again. When Shoshana was almost a year and a half old I began to feel a sense of loss creeping up on me. Bit by bit I was no longer okay with the thought that I may never be ready to have another child again. That I might be missing out on someone. I broached the subject with my husband who was truly shocked to hear of a change in attitude so soon. As was I! I assured him that this did not mean I was ready to start trying again, just that my emotions were beginning to change. My little exasperated comments evolved from "she is such a handful" to "she needs a sibling." From "you need to play by yourself now" to "you need to play by yourself now... and you need a sibling."

I re-read the book "Surprise Child" by Leslie Leyland Fields. My responses to the content were markedly different. I began reaching out to other moms who I knew were also emotionally scarred from post partum depression; some that had been through that experience and had another child and one that was still waiting on that decision. I consistently heard back that there is no way to predict when you will feel ready again, but when you know, you know. Ya know? But I want predictions! I want the goal! Not this whole waiting for when I might know something that I am so unsure will ever happen!

True enough, about three months later I wept when my period started. What is this? Maybe I need to increase my medication dosage. Whatever happened to the familiar feeling of relief? Relief that our efforts were successful, that another child wasn't put in harm's way. Instead I was incredibly disappointed. That night we talked on our pillows. After a short introduction I said "I feel like I'm missing out on someone. I want to meet that someone." Tim took a little more convincing that it wasn't my monthly hormones talking before he said "ok."

Three more months passed in which I got a very small taste of what it is like to try for a child and have to wait. Of course, that is nothing compared with several people I know: 6 months and successful, 2 years and not successful, 3 years and successful, 5 years and not successful, 14 years of waiting with 2 years of trying ending in preterm labor and non-viable live birth followed by more trying. Every period was a disappointment but at least I had the history of a healthy child even when not trying for one!

Then my period didn't come. The test was positive! Again, I returned to the bedroom, this time with a grin, and said "good morning daddy." We laughed and praised the Lord.

Then, 6 weeks later I found blood.

It was a Thursday night, after my first professional choir rehearsal. Even though Amanda, my midwife for Shoshana and a long-time friend was already retired, she was still my first call. She asked me questions and told me what to watch for. No matter what, to go in for an ultrasound in the morning. At 9am I saw my PCP, my former pediatrician, and, based on the fact that I had not bled any more since that night, was not very concerned but sent me for an ultrasound anyway. On return from the ultrasound his face gave away the news even before his words came. "Miracles can happen..." he began. There was a heartbeat but 6 cm of the placenta was no longer attached. I immediately burst into tears. I knew that 6cm is almost the entire length of the placenta. It was all gone except for a small ring around the edge.

I was in the process of miscarriage.

He talked to my husband on the phone because I couldn't speak. He counseled us what to expect physically and emotionally. Basically, I was to go home and wait for the inevitable. If, by the hand of God there was still no miscarriage by Tuesday, I should schedule a follow-up ultrasound.

WHAT THE HELL?

All of my resentments over the last several years, all my doubts about who God is, all my anger bubbled up tar-like from the neat little filing cabinet in the far back dark room where I had stored it away for future reference. Hot, black, sticky, bubbly and oozy all at once. He gave me a child I didn't want at the time, put her in my tummy, in harm's way, and now threatens to take away the one I actually wanted! How many ways can you say UNFAIR? It was all so wrong. What kind of a God would do that? Not a God of blessing, surely. A God of good gifts, a loving Father, a faithful lover, a protective mother hen? Garbage. All of it.

My husband called together the elders of our church to anoint me with oil as is prescribed in James but I was so disillusioned that I didn't even care. My heart did not participate in the prayer for mercy, providence, a fully-formed healthy child. I wouldn't pray to that God any more. If there was a God.