My New Reality

So I’m sitting at my desk, surfing the Internet, eating my new favorite lunch (white cheddar cheese, reduced-fat Triscuits and grapes) and trying to comprehend the fact that I’m not pregnant anymore.

This time last week, I was “with child.” The baby inside my womb was 10 weeks old, growing fingernails and eyebrows. Virtually every organ in its tiny two-inch body was formed and functioning. I was starting to come out of the dreaded first trimester haze of nausea and exhaustion. Friday, I had a doctor’s appointment. Everything looked good. And then, Saturday, I started bleeding. By Sunday, I was cramping quite severely. Quite literally, I was in “mini-labor.” And by Sunday afternoon, it was all over. My body shed the little baby, still in its amniotic sac, and sent his or her soul to live with Jesus.

Intellectually, I understand what happened. Being a medical geek (My motto: “I only know enough to be dangerous.”), I know the facts of miscarriage. Theses days, they are quite common. About 20% of “normal” pregnancies end in a miscarriages, and the rate is higher for women over 35. (A group I’m now in, much to my dismay. Funny how that 35th birthday didn’t sting so much back in January. Being aware of a child growing inside of your body makes you feel young, not old.) There’s virtually nothing you can do to prevent a miscarriage. Almost all of them are triggered by chromosomal and genetic abnormalities.

But emotionally, I feel a little lost. The full impact of my new reality is still sinking in. Last week, I was looking forward to the rest of 2007. Now, it feels flat. Some of the sparkle has left my world.

Tenderhearted Lord, you see when a sparrow falls. You know about this little one, and you see my heart. I rest against your chest, knowing you are my Abba Father. Catch my tears, and hold me close. My hope is in You.


  1. Kelly,
    I'm trying to convince my wife to drop you a comment, but she's a blogging newbie.

    Allyson had an ectopic pregnancy on Sept. 22, 2003 (one day before Allyson's birthday). Complications followed that and she nearly bled to death internally, eventually losing an ovary and tube.

    This was very devastating for her. It was very difficult for me as well, but it was also a dramatically different experience. There seems a closeness she enjoyed (and sorrowed from) that I could only sympathize with at best. That has been a struggle in its own regard.

    Trying again was tough. Lots of fears with the hopes. Few things are taken for granted after an experience like that. Nonetheless, one year later, PJ (our second boy -- we have a 7 year, Cameron, too), was born ON ALLYSON'S BIRTHDAY, September 23rd!

    We'd like to try for another soon. We both know this must be a difficult time for you. We're touched by your experience. Keep blogging, we'll be around.

  2. Kelly,
    I am so sorry. I don't have any words to say - I have not been in your shoes before - but know that I am thinking of you and praying for you and Cory.

  3. Kelly,
    I read your comment on LPM and came to your blog. I miscarried our first baby at 7 weeks. I had barely realized I was pregnant, shared joy with friends and family, then experienced sudden grief and loss. There were still people congratulating us on the pregnancy who didn't know we had miscarried. A week later, my sister whom I'm a soul mate with miscarried too. There was great pain in our hearts, and so few knew what to say or do. Even family members hurt with words that they intended to comfort, but they just didn't know better.

    God so greatly redeems our pain. It is because of that miscarriage that we have incredible compassion and ministry to those who have lost their babies. It happened 12 years ago, but it falls fresh on me every time I hear of another who is hurting.

    We later had three children, and on the 10th anniversary of our miscarriage, we accepted God's call to adoption and our little girl was born in China. He indeed redeemed that day, countless times over.

    I pray that you are surrounded and upheld by those who can love you in tangible ways...who can provide meals or clean your home when you are hurting too much to work. I pray for arms of comfort to hold you when you want to cry. I pray that you will carry your little one in your heart while Jesus carries your baby in His arms. I look forward to the day when I meet my little one in heaven, and our kids talk about it too.

    May God's unfailing love pour grace over your family, and surround you with countless reminders of His presence every day.

    Love in Christ,

  4. Kelly~ I know I just stumbled upon your blog but I had to comment on this post. I had a m/c at 10 weeks and I have also lost a child. I can understand the pain you are going through. The "whys", the feelings of lost dreams, the "what ifs", the fear of trying again. I promise you, the pain does get easier.

    God bless.

  5. I found you thru The Party. Great blog. I like all the inspiration you have over here.

    I'm sorry you lost your baby. I lost my little girl last year thru an international adoption scandel. We went to Russia to adopt her (we'd finalized our court paperwork & spent days with her). Found out she couldn't leave the country with us because our adoption agency was a bunch of baby trafficking criminals.

    Losing a child is so hard and I'm sorry you are going thru this too. I write about this over on my blog as well.

    Best wishes, Esther

  6. Kelly, you always leave the sweetest comments at my blog, and I can't remember where I read (Rocks in My Dryer? LPM?) that you'd had a miscarriage earlier this year, but I wanted to come over and say hi--and then you linked to it today. So it must be a God thing :)

    Two of my dearest friends both lost babies recently, and while I haven't had a miscarriage, mourning with them showed me how many women have. I am praying for you, that God gives you joy this year, and that He heals those wounds. It's a precious thing to be carrying a life, and I can't imagine how hard it must've been to lose that little one.

    I just wanted to say that I'm thinking of you this morning . . .