The Ups and Downs

Heck of a week, folks. Last Friday, I was unanimously approved by the Board of Ordained Ministry for ordination this year. They had some great feedback, and some constructive feedback (which is also great, just in a different way), about which I had planned to reflect and stuff.

Then I did manage to get myself into a controversial position by being quoted in part and largely out of context on the evening news. I do plan to post about that specifically a little later, including my best reconstruction of all of my statements, and open it up to comments. Please do not comment on this post about that newscast. Later, okay?

Literally as the broadcast was airing Wednesday night, my body began to go from mild discomfort and symptoms about which I was concerned to unmistakable and painful–physically and emotionally–signs of full miscarriage. By midnight, the worst was over, but that doesn’t make it any easier. A trip to the doctor on Thursday confirmed that I am no longer pregnant. I had been eleven weeks and five days.

People have been incredibly gracious and supportive with prayers, notes, calls, hugs, and even a bouquet of flowers. It’s amazing how many couples come out of the woodwork to tell their similar stories, and makes you wonder about why we don’t talk about this pain very openly. Do we still attach a stigma or blame to the family? Are we confused about what exactly it is we are mourning? Partners of those who have miscarried particularly, help me out here– what’s a spouse to do? Mine seems to not know which end is up, which is fine, but I wish I could make it easier for him.

For me, it’s moment by moment. Sometimes I’m fine. Sometimes a contraction-like pain reminds me, oh yeah, I’ve lost my baby, and then I lose my um, stuff. Yesterday there were big reminders that made me cry: the ultrasound photo on the fridge (now safely hidden away for when I want it sometime later–much later), the pregnancy test that I still had on my dresser, which I never want to see again. Big pain.

Today, it was the little things: talking about the diversity of people being certified, commissioned, and ordained in our conference– a vast array of ages, ethnicities, vocational callings, and even a young woman who will be visibly preg– I thought before I stopped myself. A leftover bottle of gingerale which I almost offered to take home because I drink a lot of it to get through the nausea… oh, right. Asking for Tylenol and being given a generic brand, so I checked to see if it was safe to take… I can take anything I want and it doesn’t matter.

So we plug on. Day by day, moment by moment. One hug, one prayer, one phone call at a time. And try not to think too much about what happens tomorrow and next month and six months from now when we get to the day that was already circled on the calendar and ingrained in my mind. And we give thanks for what we have– an amazing, healthy, beautiful, loving four year old, a strong marriage, a community of support, a faith to sustain. The rest I can weather, as long as I have those things.

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16 Responses

  1. How you remain inspirational and can put together logical sentences that seep raw emotion and inspiration is a testament to you. Your family’s in my prayers and expect a truckload of karma your way!

  2. Oh, Becca! I am so very sorry about the loss of your little one. Let yourself grieve and let your husband grieve. The little one was a ‘promse.’ A promise is hard to give up. Don’t let people minimize what’s happened as just a ‘miscarriage.’ It’s so much more than the term represents! In the first five years of my marriage, I had four ‘miscarriages,’ each at around eight weeks. Then, Becca, guess what? God gave us four children. The first two at ages 23 and 25. The second two at ages 36 and 38. The third, little Benjamin, was born with a septal defect and survived only twenty two minutes. He didn’t die…he actually went from death to Life! God makes no mistakes. His plans are perfect. TRUST him, Becca, with EVERYTHING….self, ministry, family, joy, sorrow, successes, failures….EVERYTHING! He is so faithful and merciful to us. If it wouldn’t be too upsetting for you, I have a post at my blog site about the birth and passing of little Benjamin. It was and still is…an awesome experience! I’m gonna put a shortcut to your site on my desktop. Catch you later. My heart desires that God’s ‘will be done’ in every area of your life.

  3. @Jeremy, thanks, brother. words are my thing, you know, and processing out there is part of my extroverted coping mechanism. thanks for all the prayers.

    @elias, Thank you for your words of encouragement and for sharing your family’s story with me. I would not be bothered at all to read about your son’s birth and passing in a couple days or a week or so, and I’ll look for it later. For now I really appreciate your gift of encouragement and prayer and witness to a stranger, and the reminder of our connection as God’s children and as parents who love and lose and keep on loving.

    Shalom,
    Becca

  4. Becca-

    I am so sorry to hear of your loss. Know that you, Benji and Ari are in my prayers. I know that I am far away, but let me know if there is anything that you need.

    I love you.
    Heather

  5. So sorry Becca!

  6. I’m sorry doesn’t seem to say enough, but it’s all I know to say. I’m sorry, Becca. You are in my prayers.

  7. Becca, I’m so sorry to hear this news. I’m praying for you and your family. Blessings, Sarah

  8. Becca-
    I’m sorry for your loss, I can’t imagine the pain.
    I’m sorry
    ~Jack

  9. […] written a fair amount about it over the past six months. I’ve made no secret of the pain my family […]

  10. […] years ago today, my husband and I miscarried. Compared to the loss in Libya and Japan today, that seems such […]

  11. […] similar experiences shared from around the world and across the theological perspective. I shared my story, and […]

  12. […] similar experiences shared from around the world and across the theological perspective. I shared my story, and wept. Mark Miller and many other delegates stood to express their pain and brokenness. […]

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