During the summer of 2009 on holiday I forgot to unpack my birth control pills. I had been taking them since I stopped nursing our second son in 2008. I figured I would finish out the month and then start my pills again after my next menstrual cycle.
It never came – I found out I was pregnant with our third child while my husband was traveling in Romania. I was so nervous to tell him since he did not want to have more children. (with his traveling schedule he feels horribly guilty he does not spend enough time with the two boys he has). I cowardly told him over the phone so he had a long plane ride to digest the news.
Needless to say – he was not thrilled with me nor the situation.
At my 9 week apt I remember hearing the heart beat and thinking – that is awfully slow. But I didn’t ask any questions. The pregnancy progressed without any physically complications. And I was incredibly relieved we passed the 12 week mark because many articles I had read about getting pregnant so soon off the pill … 85% end in miscarriage.
At my 16 week appointment there was no heartbeat. The sonogram showed a lifeless baby floating in my stomach.
I showed up at the pregnancy hospital two days later to be induced to deliver. It took 24 hours (my husband was in San Francisco). It was a horrible experience – the nurses do not help you deliver. You call them when you’re done. 6 hours later I passed the placenta, or what they thought was an intact placenta.
A week later at my “recovery apt” my dr. informed me the baby was our 1st girl and the pathology report stated she was 76% positive for Down Syndrome. However, my pregnancy levels were not decreasing fast enough. Another ultra sound showed a small portion of the placenta that did not pass. It would take another month for that to pass naturally – having weekly dr. apts to check pregnancy levels just about broke me emotionally.
Just a few days after I thought the worst was behind me – I passed kidney stones. To say it was an incredibly difficult time in my life is a major understatement.
When I was physically recovered – we realized how much our 6yr old son was hurting. He told us he had been praying for a sister – and he was very upset we hadn’t named the baby. So we named our daughter Clare and praise God for healing. We praise Him for the hope of heaven – and the promise of being reunited.
My husband felt so bad for what I had gone thru he said he never wanted to take that chance of getting pregnant again.
Now two years later I still struggle with my heart and wondering if my miscarriage was a trail or a consequence because we were not trusting Him with the size of our family. Either way – I know my daughter is home with My King and I will meet her one day.