Darkness is my Closest Friend (Psalm 88) Part 1

We interrupt the usual light-hearted posting on this blog for a more serious message. Why? Because life can be hard and I don’t want to always write about fluffy stuff. That would be a misrepresentation of my life. There is a great temptation to put up a “front” online. Only posting about the awesome vacations we go on, the milestones our kids reach, the new jobs we’ve acquired, the fantastic meal we just cooked, etc. “The highlight reel” as I’ve heard it called. Well, in between all those fun things is some pretty rough stuff. Quite frankly, I’m annoyed with how we’ve been conditioned to keep it to ourselves act like we have it all together. In my experience, that’s a pretty unhealthy way to deal with pain and suffering. I’m not saying you should  post online everything you’re going through if you’re not comfortable with that. It doesn’t have to be a big public announcement. But share it with someone, a few close friends/family members, and especially, God. And share honestly.

This post about miscarriage inspired me take a moment to address this topic in particular.

Miscarriage. I’ve had one.

To date, it’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever gone through. On April 24, 2012 I should’ve been hearing my baby’s heartbeat for the first time. Instead, I heard nothing but silence. Saw nothing but a black hole on the ultrasound screen. Something went wrong in the very early stages of development and our first pregnancy ended at 6 weeks. 10-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage and I’m now part of that statistic.

Before going home, my doctor ordered blood work to check hCG levels (I had to go back a few days later to check again to compare the numbers…to confirm the miscarriage). As I sat in the waiting room with Ivor, I responded to the “so, how did it go???” texts. There was a baby crying behind me and an adorable toddler sitting in front of me, looking concerned as he saw me desperately trying to hold myself together and not lose it. My number was called and in I went to have blood drawn. Normally, I pass out when a needle gets poked into my vein. But my mind was elsewhere so I manage to remain upright.

We left the office, grabbed food at the Taco Bell drive-through. Went home. I went to the bathroom. And when I walked out of the bathroom, Ivor was standing there waiting. It had been almost 2 hours and I no longer had the strength to hold myself together.  I fell into his arms and the floodgates opened.

To be continued….

Screen shot 2013-09-15 at 9.01.13 AM

screenshot of my calendar, April 2012


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