I was clinging on to hope.
Days earlier, on Christmas, I felt "off". We had gone to my husband's friend's home and I just felt "off" the entire time. Everyone was enjoying themselves - it was Christmas - yet I was not joyful. Everyone was pouring on the southern hospitality - because I was with child - but I was unreceptive. Preparations were underway and I offered to help - because I was a guest - but it was forced and not genuine. I just felt "off".
The hospital staff took us to the back and prepped me for an ultrasound. I was rolled into the room on a gurney where the technician was waiting. She put the the cold, blue gel on me and moved the wand around my belly. I almost sat up because I heard a heartbeat.
"That's your heartbeat," the technician quipped.
She moved the wand around a while longer and then said, "The doctor will be with you shortly to give you the results. I am not authorized to give you the results at this time ..." She paused and then said, "... But I think you know, we always know." She walked out of the room.
I was stunned - did she, in essence, just give me the results anyway?
I knew I felt "off" but I was still hopeful. I was still praying and looking for God to answer my hopes and prayers ...
I was rolled back to the room and waited for the doctor. He finally came in looking very pensive and said, "I'm sorry." I just looked at him and said nothing. He went on to explain what I would experience over the next few hours to the next few days. I heard him but I was emotionally disconnected. My husband wasn't in the room, he had stepped out but the doctor kept talking. He finally told me they would prepare my paperwork to be discharged. A few moments after the doctor walked out, my husband walked in.
"What did he say?"
I looked at him, shook my head and turned and looked in a different direction. He sat down and a few tears fell. We stayed in the room in silence until it was time for us to leave.
That evening I was at my parent's home and my entire family was there including some out of town relatives. Regardless of how much they tried to comfort me I just couldn't keep it together. I had what can only be described as a breakdown.
I was wailing.
I was inconsolable.
I was a few days away from being in my second trimester ...
I ate right. I rested enough. I didn't over exert myself. I don't smoke. I don't drink. I had no "vices".
What went wrong and why weren't there any signs?
I couldn't understand why this was happening to me. Was it because I read about miscarriages and somehow, perhaps through osmosis, it manifested itself? Did I unknowingly eat an off-limits food? Did I do something incorrectly? Why, why, why?!
I couldn't stop crying ... sobbing ... wailing ...
My husband wasn't there and I kept screaming for him. I recall falling on to the floor into a heap of sobs when one of my sisters begged and pleaded with me, "Please, let me help you - I'm your sister!"
She couldn't help me - no one could.
Finally, someone called my husband and said they would meet him half way to get me because I was in no condition to wait any longer for him to come get me ... I had to be assisted by 2 or 3 of my family members just to make it into the car.
I just couldn't stop crying ... sobbing ... wailing ...
That night in bed, my husband and I cried together for about half of the night.
We cried ourselves to sleep.
"...Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning." (Psalms 30:5 NLT)
The next morning, I can't say I necessarily had joy - but I was at peace. A few calls and messages were on my phone and I didn't feel up to answering any of them. I still only wanted to talk to or deal with just my husband. I was still sad. I didn't have an appetite and I slept a lot ... but, I was at peace.
The night before I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. Through that, there was a breaking that happened deep within which also allowed a breakthrough to take place.
I didn't cry anymore after that.
By the end of the week I could say without a shadow of a doubt that I trusted God, even in that circumstance. I trusted Him with my life and how it was unfolding. I trusted that He knew what was best for me. I trusted His sovereignty.
Ten months later I went to the doctor and confirmed I was pregnant. I was glad and felt like some sort of redemption was taking place. I was going to trust God. I decided I would go over and beyond the call of duty to better protect this pregnancy. And I did - for a few weeks ...
However, a few weeks later, my world came crashing down around me and I went into a very dark place when I miscarried yet again ...
Just Around the Corner,