God Bless the Broken Road

So I mentioned the other day that I have to wear a bridesmaid dress this July.

The Man and I are taking a course called The Truth Project, and if you haven't taken it yet and you're a Christian, I highly recommend it. I won't try to describe it - you need to just watch the trailer for it and you'll see why: Truth Project.

This week the topic was history, and Dr. Del Tackett spoke about the big picture. This is something I actually think about a lot, because it brings me comfort to know that when things go wrong in my life, God has an amazing way of using them in a greater story. I may not see most of that story until He shows me the home movies in Heaven, but sometimes I get glimpses that give me goose bumps.

When we lost Lily eight years ago one of the ways that God brought me comfort was that I really never questioned why it had happened to us. I went through all of the grief and sorrow, but I never asked God why He let it happen. I know that only the Holy Spirit can give you that kind of peace, because I honestly cannot say how I could never question Him about this. I just didn't. I knew that our loss brought the Man and I closer to each other, and closer to God. I knew that He would work beauty from our ashes. I couldn't begin to imagine how He would, but one step at a time, He did.

Follow along with me.... The miscarriage led me to look for a support group. I couldn't find one locally, so I looked online and found one. I met wonderful women who had also experienced loss, and many of us moved on from that group into another one for women who were trying to get pregnant again. When I got pregnant with the Boy, I moved on to another group for moms who were due in March of 2002. Some of the women from the loss group also came with me, and we shared the joy of being pregnant again. At the same time I found a group for Christian stay at home moms, and began forging relationships there as well. Many of the moms in that group were involved with MOPS, an organization that I had never heard of before. I looked and found a local MOPS group, and began attending their meetings. It was there that I met Kate, who is one of my most favorite people.

Kate and I began hanging out and getting to know each other pretty well. This led to me talking to her about our church situation and our unhappiness there. I said I just would really like to find a good Bible study, because I wasn't learning anything at our church. She promptly invited me to come to hers at BFC. I have been in that Thursday morning group ever since. Two years later, when the Man and I finally made the decision to leave our church, BFC was the first and only place we looked. We knew immediately that it was a great fit for us, and everything we had been looking for in a church.

This led to several other families from our old church hearing about BFC, checking it out, and also attending there steadily ever since. (Disclaimer: these families were already searching, and their decisions to leave our old church were for their own reasons. The Man and I had no influence over their decisions, we just said that this was where we were going and why we liked it.) This also led me to invite a couple who were struggling with some things. They were from our same old church. They had made some incredibly bad decisions, and their sins were coming back to bite them. (I can certainly relate to that.) I suggested that a fresh start could be helpful. They've been coming to BFC ever since. A few weeks ago, during a meeting with one of the pastors, they gave their lives to Jesus. In spite of their previous time in church, they really had never taken that step. They got engaged a few weeks ago, and the bride asked me to be one of her bridesmaids.

When Del Tackett said that we should look at the big picture, I couldn't help but think that my daughter Lily must be rejoicing in Heaven today, knowing that her death sent us down a broken road that ultimately led us to so many good things. God could see all of this ahead of time, and He knew how this story would play out. Maybe it's presumptuous of me to think this way, or maybe the writer in me likes to see things in the form of a grand storyline. I had never needed a reason why for Lily's death, but if I had to lose her for two people to find their way to Jesus, I can rejoice in the small part that I played.

Sanctity of Life Sunday

Today would have been my 8th Remembrance Service at my previous church. As I've said in a previous post, I had a hard time letting go of doing this, even as I knew that my heart needed to move on. I spoke with my mother earlier this evening (who still attends that church), and she told me about the wonderful message that was delivered today, and how Sanctity of Life Sunday was recognized there. My heart is full, knowing that the service has continued on, and that my former pastor feels passionately about it. They didn't do a candle-lighting, which I do hope that they bring back someday. But I'm just glad that the Day was recognized, and that losing my Lily has changed that church forever.

My new church is currently holding a fund-raiser for a local crisis pregnancy center. They support Choice One on a regular basis, and right now are collecting spare change in baby bottles. I'm really glad to be able to help in this way, to give support, and not have to lead anything this year. I have such peace today with where He has led me.

*note: Sanctity of Human Life Sunday is traditionally marked on the 3rd Sunday of January. Because of scheduling issues in the past, we usually held our event on the last Sunday of the month instead.*

Losing Lily: Part IV

It was a strange and difficult recovery. The physical pain faded for the most part after a week. But the emotional pain was undefinable. At first, I didn't cry. I began to think that maybe something was wrong with me, that I wasn't sad. One day, about 3 weeks later, I was on the internet, and I found an article that talked about the grief associated with miscarriage. It said that sometimes women go through shock and denial, and it doesn't seem real. Their minds protect them from the shock of the event. I was stunned to realize that this was me. There wasn't anything wrong with me. My mind simply could not allow me to try to process all that had happened in that Nevada hospital. It was too big. The fact that it had happened 2500 miles from home only made it more surreal, as if it hadn't happened.


The next day I went to a funeral for a church friend, and I began to cry, missing her. I cried my heart out. As Trisha Yearwood says, "It was like a dam had broken in my heart." I cried after that for days; it felt like I would never stop. But it did. Moment by moment, day by day, the Lord began easing the agony in my heart. I don't recall any time that I was angry at God for what had happened. He gave me peace about not having answers to the why's. I knew that there must be something good that could come from losing Lily. There had to be. I could not go on like she had never existed, with nothing in my hands to show for her short life.


But something else happened, something that I could not have foreseen coming from the loss of my daughter. Sobriety. Two months and one day after losing Lily, God brought me to my knees. I had been drinking all day at a barbecue, to the point that the Man took our daughter and went home without me when I refused to leave. I don't know how I got home. But that night, standing in my kitchen, God knocked the wind out of me, showing me what I had become through the years. I was heartbroken and laid at His feet, knowing that things would never be the same. I stood at the sink, pouring bottle after bottle after bottle down the drain, crying brokenly as I said goodbye to my past. I knew it had to end. I could not begin to fathom how I would go on without alcohol, any more than I could fathom how I could go on without Lily. But I knew that God would be with me, giving me the strength that I was incapable of summoning on my own. I told the Man about it the next morning. He was quiet but accepting, and has remained so to this day.

A few weeks later I became pregnant again, this time with our first son. The months crept timidly by, as I waited for the other shoe to drop. I held my breath at every twinge, unable to stop the fear. But as my belly grew, my fears slowly subsided, and I began to finally believe that I would have a new baby in my arms in a few months. I still thought about Lily every day, longing for her. What had she thought when she arrived in Heaven? Who had come out to welcome her? Could she see me? Did she know how much I desperately wanted her? How much I would always desperately want her? I had no closure, no goodbyes. I couldn't be at total peace because it was wrong, it was WRONG that I had not been able to say goodbye. I could not accept this, I would not accept this. I don't know that others can understand how I could continue to feel that way, even as I carried my son. But children are not interchangeable or replaceable. I needed to say goodbye to my child.


I began imagining what it would be like to have a funeral for Lily. Would anyone come? Would everyone think I was crazy? I needed to do something. It couldn't end like this. I began seeking out pregnancy loss resources, reading books, and talking to others online who had also lost a baby. And one day I found what I was looking for. A remembrance service for lost babies, held on October 15th, the day President Reagan had set aside for pregnancy & infant loss awareness. I knew I had to do it.

Six months after losing Lily, I spoke at the first annual Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Service at my church. I told Lily's story. Not many people came, but we shared our tears, and wrote little notes in a book, and lit candles in memory of our children. I finally had my closure. The service has continued year after year, growing from a tiny evening event with a dozen people, to a Sunday morning event where people flood the aisle coming forward to light candles at the end. Others have been willing to come speak and share their stories as well. Hearts are being opened so that they can finally heal. God is so good, and my heart overflows with all that He has done.

I don't think that there will ever come a time that I won't be sad for Lily. It's been seven years but there are still tears on my keyboard as I write this, and when I write in the journal that I still keep for her, filled with my memories and tiny keepsakes. But I have moved on with my life, and I can't say that I would change any of what has happened to me. I learned so much about myself, my husband, and God through this experience. It was hard, so gut-wrenchingly hard some days, but I knew at every moment, that the Lord was with me, watching over me. I could have died, but I didn't. I lost some of my fertility, but was still able to have two healthy sons. My husband and I grew even closer, bonded through shared loss. We have grown in our marriage, and in our Faith. And I have discovered the grace and mercy of God through pain that I can't even describe. My life was spared, and I have a beautiful family. I am grateful. My child is in the arms of the Almighty God, and someday I will meet her. That is enough for today.

Follow Up: God Bless the Broken Road

Losing Lily: Part III

It took a long time to wake up. The Man told me later that it was about two hours. I would start to wake up, but my eyes were so heavy, I just couldn't. I felt heavy and emotionless. I finally was able to force myself to keep my eyes open. I could see my husband and friend standing over me, in the distance. I realized that she must have come back from the hotel. It's very blurry, but eventually I know that my husband told me what I was waiting to hear.

Our baby was gone.

She had been growing in my fallopian tube. The tube had ruptured, and I had been bleeding internally. They told my husband that if we hadn't gone to the ER, that I would have collapsed by the time we got to the wedding, and that they wouldn't have known what was wrong with me. I would have continued to bleed internally until I died. They removed the baby and my entire tube.

I didn't cry. I guess that I just couldn't. I had literally cried all day, through it all, and now it was suddenly over. I had to get up, to get moving. I wanted to just lay there in the bed. I didn't want to move. They told me that if I didn't get up, that it would make me feel worse later. What could be worse than this? I wondered. The recovery nurse was mean, which she told me was her job. She said she had to make me get up and get moving, to get the gas out. No one had ever told me about the gas pain. When they do the surgery, they expand the belly with gas, so they can see everything. As they work, the gas is absorbed by the blood. The pain from this is unbearable. It was the worst up in my shoulders. She and the Man took me to the bathroom, but all I could do was moan and complain about the pain. They took me back to the bed I had been in. I tried to get up and get moving like I was told, but it was so hard. Evil Nurse told me that my insurance wouldn't pay for me to stay the night, so I had to get up. I eventually was able to move enough to be checked out, and we were able to get to the car. I was in a daze, feeling shoved out the door and unable to process anything beyond putting one foot in front of the other, with my husband holding my arm.

I managed to sit in the seat, with it put back a little, for the ride back to the hotel. We stopped at a drugstore to get my prescription for Percocet, and for Mylanta Gas to try to help with that pain. (Didn't help.) We got back to the hotel, and they had a wheelchair waiting for us. The ride up to the room was horrible, I felt so nauseous. We got to the room and the Man wheeled me inside. I immediately threw up. I threw up several more times before the night was through. They got me into bed.

My girlfriend left to go back to the hospital to pick up my husband's family. They had taken a taxi over there after the wedding, and none of us had known when I would be checked out, so they missed us.

They eventually made it back to the hotel. I was pretty hazy by then, since I had taken some painkiller. My sister-in-law came in, still in her wedding dress. She looked beautiful. My daughter was happy to see me, and I was so happy to see her. I held her as best as I could, so glad to be able to hold my child in my arms, stroke her hair. I knew I was happy to have her with me, but I felt nothing beyond that. There was no emotion. I felt vacant.

We spent the next day in the hotel room. The family took the Princess with them and went to see the sea life over at the Mandalay Bay. I don't remember much about the day. I tried to sleep some, but I don't know how well I did. We had to check out by 11am, but our flight wasn't until late that night. The Man called the front desk, and they agreed to let us stay in the room until 5pm. At that point, we had to move to my sister-in-law's room. She and her new husband were staying an extra day, so they still had their room. We were able to stay in their room until we had to leave for the airport.

I tried to eat, but didn't do too well. They had told my husband to give me soup or broth, but he couldn't find any. He got McDonald's for our daughter, and got me some too. I was able to keep down about half of a burger.

We eventually had to leave to go to the airport. Somehow we survived this trip. We got on the plane, and I took painkillers just before takeoff, so I would sleep. Our toddler was well-behaved, and we both slept most of the flight. We got to the Philadelphia Airport in the early morning hours. The airline had a wheelchair waiting for us, but it only took us to baggage claim. I had to sit and wait forever while my husband tried to find someone who could help us. Someone finally came with a chair, and took us outside to the shuttle. I was able to climb onto the shuttle, which would only take us to designated drop-off spots. The Man unloaded us, and I sat on a suitcase while he hiked to get the van. He was gone for a very long time, and I started to worry. The Princess was patient, thankfully. He finally arrived, and we packed up into the van. He said that he had taken a long time because the car wouldn't start, and he'd had to get a jump. I had left a light on in the van before we left, trying to amuse the Princess on the drive to the airport.

We got onto 95, and drove home. I told the Man that I never thought that I would be so happy to see that dirty old city. Even Philadelphia looked good at that point. We got to our house at 9am. We were finally home.

Part IV

Losing Lily: Part II

We left the hotel with two sets of directions to two different hospitals. The front desk had given us one, but my father-in-law gave us another that he thought was closer. We found neither. We drove for what seemed like forever, but couldn't find any of the roads we were supposed to be on. We finally stopped at a red light, and a police car happened to be next to us. My girlfriend suggested that we ask him for directions, which we did. We kept driving, and eventually saw a building in the distance that looked promising. We noticed the big white cross on the front, and we were sure that that had to be a hospital.

We got inside; I was able to walk. They found a wheelchair for me to sit in in the triage. We were there for quite a while, and they asked me a bunch of questions. The nurse was very reassuring. She said that since I had only bled a little bit, and it had stopped, that I could still be pregnant, and not to worry too much. I still had pain however. It continued to get progressively worse, and now it was all on my right side. They took my blood pressure and temperature, and eventually someone came and took me to the ER curtain area. This was where I spent most of the time.

They decided to take blood, which was surprisingly painless. They did this in a separate room from the curtain area, where they also did a pelvic exam. The ER doctor did this exam. It was very uncomfortable, and I really couldn't tell what he found. They eventually took me back to the curtain area. They decided to do an ultrasound. Instead of having me drink a lot of water, I guess they thought it would be quicker to insert a catheter and fill my bladder themselves. This would prove to be the most painful experience they had in store for me. The insertion of the Foley was excruciating, and I sobbed. The nurse did not seem to think this was unusual. They finally came and took me to do the ultrasound. The tech filled my bladder up, and spent a very long time staring at the screen. She didn't talk to me. I looked at the screen, but I couldn't really tell what I was seeing. She said that she needed to do an internal ultrasound. I was relieved, thinking that this meant that she would take the Foley out. She said that she had to leave it in. (I complained many times about how uncomfortable it was, but was told that if they had to do surgery, they would just have to put it in again, and then I would be really sore.) She drained my bladder and started the internal. Again, she just stared at the screen, not talking. She eventually muttered that she needed someone else to look too, and called another woman in. They both stared together at the screen for a long time, pointing and quietly talking, but neither of them spoke to me. I knew they had to do their jobs, but I couldn't help but think, "I'm a person! Treat me like a person! I'm right here!"

She eventually ended the ultrasound (after about 40 minutes) and wheeled me out into the hall. She left me there for about 10 minutes, then came back and took me to the curtain area, where my husband was waiting.

At some point, they had to put in an IV. I am a big baby about this kind of thing, and cried just at the thought that they were going to do it. Something about needles mentally freaks me out, and with my low blood pressure the person always seems to need to 'dig'. The woman who put it in was also unfortunately a student, and although she tried her best, it hurt like hell, and I was sobbing hysterically once again. She felt really bad, and it just made the whole thing even more pathetic and awful.

We were there for probably six hours, enduring test after test and being told nothing, before the OB doctor came down to the ER to examine me. We still weren't being told anything of course, but it felt as if we were starting all over again because the ER doctor had given up. By this point we were mentally drained, afraid, shaky. But she was calm and had a lovely manner about her. She explained to me that my HcG levels were only at about 300, and for six weeks pregnant, they should be closer to 3,000. She took me away to do another pelvic exam. She said she would feel my uterus and ovaries to try to determine what was causing the pain. After the exam, she told me that she wanted to do surgery. She said that they couldn't find the baby on the ultrasound, and they could only see something suspicious on my left fallopian tube. This also made no sense, since the pain was on my right side.

The doctor explained the surgery to me. She would go in through my belly button with a laparascope. I might have three or four incisions overall, depending on what they found when they went in. (I ended up with three incisions.) I was taken back to the ER, and they got me ready to go. I had never actually been admitted, so they had to do the paperwork for that before I could go to the OR. I think the Man signed everything for me, but I don't really remember. My girlfriend was gone at this point, she had returned to the hotel. She was supposed to check out of her room that morning at 11am, and was pretty late getting back. She checked her bags for the time being, and tried to reach my in-laws who were getting ready for the wedding.

The doctor came in and sat with me before they took me to surgery. I was really cold, and someone brought me a blanket. The doctor noticed then that the ultrasound tech had never cleaned me up after the procedure. I still had the gel and sticky towels all over me, underneath my blankets. She cleaned me up, and we talked a little bit. We talked about our daughters, and had a smile together. She was the only 'safe' and human part of that day.

They eventually got all the paperwork together, and an orderly came to wheel me upstairs to the OR. I was shivering cold by now. No matter how many blankets they put on me, I just couldn't get warm. I just thought that it was cold in there, I never really put two and two together. On the way up to the OR, the orderly stopped and got another blanket out of a warming cabinet for me. It felt great, so nice and warm.

They parked me in another curtained area, and the Man and I waited for a little bit. The anesthesiologist came and asked me some questions, then left. I said that maybe we should pray, so the Man did. It didn't seem real, that I was going in to have emergency surgery, and that we didn't know what would happen. We cried a little, and smiled a little, and pretty soon it was time to go. He kissed me goodbye, and they wheeled me away.


They wheeled me into the OR. It was icy cold. Everything was very bright and white. I looked around at all of the faces above me, and found it funny that they were all women. The doctor came in and said "Girl! It is freezing in here!", and went and got me another blanket. Soon I had to give up some of my blankets however, as they got me ready. They plugged things into my IV, and put an oxygen mask on me. The doctor took my hand. I was so grateful to her for the only moments of humanity I had in that hospital. They told me to breath deeply, and I did. I felt like I was suffocating, it was so hard to breathe in there. I felt panic rising up in me, as I wondered what was going to happen, would the baby be ok, would I be ok? The terror was too much, I wanted to scream. I squeezed tightly onto the doctor's hand, and suddenly... there was nothing.

Part III

Losing Lily: Part I

I said a while back that I would tell Lily's story, and after reading the recent news about the losses experienced by members of the group Selah, I decided to come back to this. I wrote this out years ago, but it needs a bit of tweaking to post here. I think it will have to be posted in a few parts, as it's just too long for one. I apologize ahead of time if anyone finds anything in this story too graphic, or too upsetting. I don't want to make anyone feel bad for us, I just think that it's important for people to understand what happened. Miscarriage is a shameful and painful secret for many women, and it shouldn't be that way.

We found out that we were expecting around the middle of March, 2001. I went to the doctor on March 21st, and he confirmed it. The pregnancy test came back positive, but barely. He guessed that it was just very early in the pregnancy, and was not concerned. We guessed our due date to be November 20th. The Man and I were surprised by this pregnancy, but thrilled nonetheless. It had taken a year to conceive our daughter, so a surprise baby was a dream come true. We imagined our Thanksgiving baby, and we began to make plans.

On March 25th we boarded a plane to go to Las Vegas. The Man's sister was getting married out there. She was also pregnant, and we happily shared our pregnancy symptoms and other girl talk. We arrived on Sunday, and were scheduled to fly out on Wednesday night. We survived the "red-eye" and got to the Luxor hotel in the middle of the night. We had arranged for a crib for the Princess, who of course refused to sleep in it. The room we were in had two double beds, so I slept in one with her, and the Man slept in the other.

The wedding was set for Tuesday, at 3:30pm. We spent Monday walking around, and seeing all of the strange and interesting things in the casinos. The live lion exhibit in the MGM was great! We played some slots, but not too much, since the Princess wasn't allowed on the gaming floor. Some of our group rode on the rollercoaster on top of the NY NY Casino. We admired all of the extravagant architecture in all the casinos, then headed back to the hotel. I was really tired on the walk back. I had to stop and rest a few times, as I got a bad cramp in my side. I figured I was just overexerting myself, and resolved to try to take it easy the rest of the trip. We all got freshened up and met for dinner later. We ate at a large buffet in the Mandalay Bay Hotel. The Princess was uncooperative and tired, so I didn't really pay attention to the fact that I was so tired. I had felt a little faint while waiting in line for a shuttle train earlier, but I just chalked it up to pregnancy fatigue and forgot about it.

We gave up on trying to get our picky toddler to eat anything, or sit at the table with us, and headed back for the hotel room. By this time, dinner was not sitting well at all with me, and I was glad for a private bathroom. I lay on the bed and relaxed for a while, but I felt crampy and uncomfortable. I was sure that it was just digestive, and turned my mind to other things. A girlfriend of mine happened to be in Vegas at the same time as us, and we met up with her before dinner. She rented a lemon yellow BMW convertible, and wanted to go out and "cruise the strip." I left the Princess with her dad to go to bed, and we headed out.

We felt like teenagers again, driving down the Las Vegas strip, the wind in our hair, laughing and talking. We tried so hard to be out in front of the Bellagio at the exact right time to catch the waterfountain show, but we just caught the end of it. We drove around for a while, but eventually I got pretty tired. My friend took me back to the hotel and dropped me off. I went to bed, happy and exhausted.

I slept soundly, but woke up early. I looked at the clock, it was a little after 5am. I got up to use the bathroom. In horror, I discovered that I was bleeding. I was frozen for a moment. I had had some bleeding when I was pregnant with the Princess, at about 9 weeks, but it had turned out to be nothing. Maybe this was just like that; surely it was nothing. But the cramping pain I had felt the night before was there again, only now it was worse. Maybe it was just the food that hadn't sat well. Or the stress of travelling. The more I thought about it, the more I tried to convince myself that it was nothing. The bleeding seemed to have already stopped, so maybe I could just go back to bed. I left the bathroom, but as I approached the bed, the pain was too much. I began to cry, and woke my husband up.

I told him what was happening, and we decided to call my doctor back home. I called, and explained what was happening. When I told the nurse that I was calling from Las Vegas, she laughed. Somehow, I didn't find it that funny.

She told me that we needed to find an emergency room right away. She told us to call the front desk of the hotel and get directions. The Man called his parents and then called my girlfriend too. (Fortunately, we were all staying in the same hotel.) At this point, my daughter was awake, and climbing on the bed to sit with me. I held her and cried. The Man's parents came into the room. It was good to hug my mother-in-law, as I really needed a hug from a "mom" right then. The Man packed some things for the Princess. He packed up her white flower girl dress and sandals, and my MIL said that she would take them, but she was sure we would be back before then. I wasn't sure, but the Man agreed with her that we would surely be back by then. We had no inkling at that moment of what the day would bring for our little family.

Part II