Tender Mercies

I found out I was pregnant in early August. I remember feeling a little sick one day and thinking "I'm pregnant!" I got a pregnancy test the next day and took it that night. Yep. I was prego!! We were so happy and excited about it! Although a little anxious for what the future would bring. 

I was pretty much out of it for 6 weeks. I felt more tired than I have ever been in my life! I laid on the couch a lot. The kids watched waaaaaay too much TV. During that time, we picked out names for both a boy and girl (we already had the girl name, so that made it easy), talked about moving to a 3 bedroom apartment(even looked at a potential place), changed plans for Daniel's school (which would have changed anyway), and put Heather in preschool. Life was good! (Except for that little part about being sick.)

And then at 12 weeks, I started spotting. I was terrified. I hoped it wasn't happening. I prayed and prayed that it wouldn't happen. I stayed home from church that day. Hoping against hope that if I didn't move nothing would happen. Telling myself everything would be ok. I mean, people tell you that generally when you are so sick (I threw up twice the day before) you can almost guarantee you wont have a miscarriage. Nothing happened that day.

The next day, Monday, Daniel and I went to see my midwife. She couldn't hear a heart beat, told me not to panic, and sent me to get an ultrasound. The technician didn't say much, except that she couldn't find a baby. I had to stay at the hospital until my midwife called. It was about 2 hours before we heard from her. By the time she called. I already knew for sure what she was going to tell us: that it would happen that day.

Warning: the next paragraph is a little graphic:

The moment we walked in our front door, I delivered the baby. It was a tender mercy to me that we made it home before it happened. The baby was delivered in it's sac. It was a beautiful thing. Though I was so sad, I stood in awe at the miracle of life. How such a tiny thing could eventually become a perfect little baby was so awesome to me. I held it in my hands, and looked at it. I felt the spirit so strongly then. I knew this was part of God's plan. Somehow. Even though it hurt me so much.

I was heartbroken. Numb. Empty. I didn't know what to think or how to feel. But I felt the love of my Father in Heaven and of my family, and that was enough to get me through.

The following days and weeks we experienced many tender mercies of the Lord. The day I miscarried, a friend of mine watched my children all day. ALL day. She also brought dinner the following day.

The day after (a Tuesday), I was home alone and the doorbell rang. A sister from our ward (church congregation) came with cinnamon rolls. I didn't know this sister very well. I had only met her once. She just dropped by because she felt she should that day. I was super awkward at the door, and didn't trust myself to say anything more than thank you. I knew why she had dropped those by. And I knew it was another tender mercy.

That same day I was browsing facebook and noticed that a friend who went through multiple miscarriages and kept a blog during that time, posted a link to her blog "because she felt like someone might be able to use it." It was just what I needed to read that day.

A few days later a dear friend of mine whom I had not talked to in forever chatted me online when I was going through a particularly rough time. She helped me through it.

Another sister brought flowers and cookies, another came and just sat with me and let me talk, and still another, brought us cold cereal, a card, and a small meaningful gift.

There were many, many more tender mercies. But those are the ones that I remember the best. 

Though this last month has been very hard for me and for all of us. I know that God is watching over us, and that he has a plan for our family. I don't understand why this happened. Why something we really, really wanted was taken away from us. But I know that God was with us. I also know that families can be together forever. That little one is part of our family, and always will be.