Becoming the New Me Part: 5

I walked out of the sanctuary and knew I had heard God.  I knew that He had worked on Mr.’s heart and made him “make” me go to church.  God intended for me to be at church, that particular Sunday, to get my questions answered.

I couldn’t get what our teaching pastor said out of my head...

“When you were in school, your teachers would do everything they could to prepare you for a test.  They made up fun lessons.  They let you work in groups.  They had you complete individual work.  They were always there; ready to help whenever you needed it. 

Now, when test day came- they were silent.  They never left the room.  They were there watching you, and not saying a thing.”

Did he really use an analogy of a teacher and God?  (I get goose bumps as I sit here and recall the events of that day!)

So Mr. and I did our regular Sunday routine of getting some lunch together, running a few errands and heading back home.  As we were driving- my Dad called.  He needed Mr.’s assistance on fixing a lawnmower, and wanted to know if he could come down and get some help.  Of course I say it’s OK.

A little later that afternoon, Dad comes over.  (Now, during this whole ordeal- I have only talked to my family and Mr.’s family.  No one else knew of my situation or how bad I was; how mad I was at God).  He and Mr. work on the lawnmower, and somehow my Dad finds a way to have some alone time with me.

All he says is, “How are you doing?”  I was able to look him in the eyes and say, “A little bit better than yesterday.”  Dad was an incredible listener, and let me share my story of the sermon I heard in church that morning.  I shared with him how I felt utter rage at God.  Dad didn’t say a word.  He let me pour my heart out.  He didn’t say, “Oh, K, you are not supposed to get angry with God.”  Or, “You really are having some heart issues, you need to pray for forgiveness.”  Or, “I raised you better- I can’t believe my daughter would act like this.”

My Dad (a former Marine and retired Sargent from the Army) sat without judgment in our driveway and only said a few, but powerful, words to me.  Words that I will remember until the day I return home and meet Jesus (and my baby) face to face.

After all of my ranting, my Dad said, “K, how many times did you get mad at me as your Earthly father?  Do you really think you’re not ever going to get mad at your Heavenly Father?”

Wow!  Basically my Dad was telling me it was OK to be mad.  It was OK for me to be feeling the way I was feeling.  It was OK that I ran away from God, ‘slammed my bedroom door in His face’, and wanted nothing to do with Him.

 No one had said those simple words to me…it’s OK.

Becoming the New Me Part: 4

I seriously couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that God let this horrible event happen.  That was the question that I kept asking Mr. He didn’t know what to say to me.  Not very many people did.  I can tell you a lot of people said things that I look back on now, and think no one should ever say that to someone who miscarried.  (That will be addressed in a later post).

So, here I am sitting in the sanctuary.  Not signing any songs.  Not participating in communion.  I simply was a warm body sitting in a seat, waiting for this entire thing to be over with.  I had wanted nothing to do with church this morning.  I certainly wanted nothing to do with God.  (Remember, I’m only here because my husband MADE me come with him.)

As communion is being passed around, I make a point to thumb through the bulletin to see what’s going to be going on within the next few weeks at church.  (Habit)  I look at the spot that gives a short summary of what the message is going to be about, “MUTE: Silence is when faith is the loudest”.  I sat in the pew and thought, “Yea, you’ve been giving me the silent treatment.  Are you finally going to talk to me?  I’ve been begging you for answers, and you haven’t even attempted to respond to one.”

Just some background:

As a church, we had been studying The Bible in chronologic order.  Our teaching pastor was going to be talking about the ‘silent years’.  There was nearly 400 years that went by between Malachi (last book of the Old Testament) and Matthew (first book of the New Testament).  Many people thought God was silent- on mute- to the people living during those years.

As our pastor starts speaking, I feel the room go empty.  I feel like he is speaking directly to me.  He opened his sermon with, “What to do when you think God is giving you the silent treatment?”  For the next half hour I sat, and listened.  God was finally answering my questions.  First, I learned that I was demanding God to answer me.  I didn’t have my heart in the right place to even consider asking God why He called my baby home before I got to meet them.

I learned that God is still at work, while there is silence.

I learned that God still keeps His promises, while there is silence.

Isaiah 49:10

The Message

When the time is ripe, I answer you.  When victory’s due, I help you.

Jeremiah 29:11

New International Version

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Revelation 21:4-5

New International Reader's Version (NIRV)

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or sadness. There will be no more crying or pain. Things are no longer the way they used to be.”  He who was sitting on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down. You can trust these words. They are true.”

Romans 8:28

New Kings James Version

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.

Philippians 1:6

New International Reader's Version (NIRV)

I am sure that the One who began a good work in you will carry it on until it is completed. That will be on the day Christ Jesus returns.

I learned that God is still watching, while there is silence.

Job 23:8-12

New International Reader's Version (NIRV)

8 “But if I go to the east, God isn’t there.  If I go to the west, I don’t find him.  9 When he’s working in the north, I don’t see him there.  When he turns to the south, I don’t see him there either.  10 But he knows every step I take.  When he has put me to the test, I’ll come out as pure as gold.  11 My feet have closely followed his steps.  I’ve stayed on his path without turning away.  12 I haven’t disobeyed his commands.  I’ve treasured his words more than my daily bread.

This is how our pastor summed everything up, and I knew that God had 100% meant for me to hear this sermon.  My pastor said, “Think about this.  When you were in school, your teachers would do everything they could to prepare you for a test.  They made up fun lessons.  They let you work in groups.  They had you complete individual work.  They were always there; ready to help whenever you needed it. 

Now, when test day came- they were silent.  They never left the room.  They were there watching you, and not saying a thing.

God does the same thing.  He is always there.  He’s always watching you- and sometimes He doesn’t say a thing.”  

Ok, God, you have my attention.

Becoming the New Me: Part 3

As I left the hospital, I drove home in a daze.  I didn’t listen to any music, or roll the windows down to enjoy a beautiful September afternoon.  I just wanted to be home.  I didn’t care that I would be alone; I just wanted to be as far away as possible from the hospital.  Once I got home, I crawled into bed and stayed.  What else could I do?  The ultrasound tech had said everything.  I was empty.

   

If you’re not familiar with the effects of miscarrying, the aftermath on your body is agonizing.  For me, it felt like my stomach had been ripped out and put back in the wrong way.  There is also the added element that your mind goes through.  I think the mind games I played with myself were more excruciating than the actual physical pain my body was undergoing.

In a matter of 48 hours I had gone from the highest high to the lowest of lows.  I was pregnant on Saturday, and without child on Monday.  In this time frame I had become someone I didn’t know.  Someone I didn’t like.  I remember vividly coming home from running errands with Mr. in town on Thursday evening and talking about having to work with ladies who were expecting.  How was I going to be able to face them?  How was I supposed to be excited for them?  I was JEALOUS of them. 

Mr. tried his best to support me, but I would say things and he wouldn’t know what to say back.  On this specific ride home, he was being as supportive as he could be and said to me, “I love you.”  My response was, “How can you love me when my body destroyed our baby?”

Oh, he got so mad at me for saying that!  But, that’s where my mind was…not in a good place.  Mr. did his best to try and be normal.  Normal was gone; we would never be the same again.

As the weekend approached, Mr. asked if I was planning on going to church.  My reply, “Um, no!”  He didn’t push the issue until Saturday evening.  He told me we were going to church.  I’m thinking, ‘no way.’  He said I needed to be up and ready to go Sunday morning.  He wasn’t going to leave without me.

I woke up that Sunday morning and reluctantly threw my hair up in a ponytail and put on some black sweat pants.  I didn’t want to be at church, and I certainly didn’t care what I looked like.  I had no one to impress.  I wasn’t going there to worship.  I wasn’t going there because God wants His people to hear His word.  I was going because Mr. made me. 

All week I had been questioning God.  I was as mad at Him as I had ever been in my life.  What would God have to say to me when I got to church?  Nothing!  We weren’t speaking.  He had failed me, after I had done everything right for Him my entire life.  I was ready to walk away.  God, He had other plans… 

Becoming the New Me: Part 2

I had miscarried Labor Day weekend, and we were out of school on Monday.  I went into work on Tuesday and told my team and principal that I wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week.  Each person had a different reaction.  They all stick with me, some were nicer than others- and I’ll just leave it at that.

Following the ER doctor’s order of resting for the next few days, I had a lot of alone time.  Mr. wasn’t able to take time off from work and my sisters, and sister in law were all busy with work and school as well. My ‘inner circle’ was still going on with life, while I stayed at home and thought mine was over.

I know that while I was off, God was trying to speak to me, but I didn’t want to hear anything He had to say.  I didn’t open my Bible or read my devotional.  (Honestly, I feel like I had just run up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door because I didn’t want anything to do with God.  Can you relate to that?  I know I can’t be the only person who had been so mad at their mom or dad they ran away and slammed a door at them while they were growing up.)

But, that’s what I did.  I ran away.  I was so angry I pretty much was ready to punch anything or anyone in the face who came in contact with me and said I needed to pray.  I didn’t do a lot while I was home.  I just kept replaying the events over and over in my head.  Which wasn’t healthy.  When you are alone, after a tragedy happens, your mind (or the devil) plays a lot of tricks on you.

The Wednesday after Labor Day, I had to meet with my OBGYN for an exam and have some more blood work done.  This was the worst day of my life.  I think it was worse than actually going to the ER.  Don’t get me wrong, my doctor is amazing; she has wonderful bedside manor, and was very compassionate.

I went to the doctor by myself, and sat in the waiting room surrounded by swollen bellies.  I sat in this room, thinking I was going to be OK, thinking I was tough enough to face reality.  I couldn’t handle it.  I couldn’t look at any woman who had a beautiful baby bump.  A mother’s glow, a smile on their face.  In a room surrounded by people, I felt utterly alone.

(To put a little more salt in the wound, Savage Garden’s ‘I knew I Love You Before I Met You’ was playing overhead.  Are you freaking kidding me?  I have come to the conclusion that there needs to be separate waiting rooms for women who are expecting and women who are not.)  

After meeting with my doctor, she sent me to have some labs run.  These labs included blood work, to check my hormone levels, and an ultrasound.  I could handle the blood work.  I was able to hold myself together while a lady who did not have nice bedside manor would conduct my ultrasound.  

She walked me into a room and gave me directions; I obliged, and waited for her to come back.  She moved the wand and said, “Yup you’re empty.”  I lay there motionless.  I was furious and heartbroken.  How can you be so callus?  

She left the room with my frozen ultrasound images left up.  All I saw was emptiness.  A hole that was once filled with a life had been ripped away.  I didn’t need an ultrasound to prove that.  I didn’t need anything...but my baby. 

Becoming The New Me: Part 1

Many people, who are close to me, know that I suffered a miscarriage in September 2012.  This experience is apart of me now, and I feel that it is the appropriate time to share my experience through this devastating loss.  This event has changed me forever, and for the better I think.  I just want to let you all know that it might take a few of blog posts to convey my story to you.

Here is Part 1:

Mr. and I decided in May 2012 that it would be a great time to expand our family of two (and our two kitties) to three.  We never imagined how easy it would be to get pregnant.  It took only two months for it to happen.  I took a pregnancy test in August, and the results proved to be what we wanted…we were on our way to becoming parents!

I had already planned everything out in my head.  I knew what I was going to do to tell our folks that they were being promoted to grandparents.  I knew how I was going to publicize it on Facebook.  I even knew how I was going to announce my pregnancy to my coworkers.  Every detail was planned.  I was elated!

August tuned into September, and I was looking forward to Labor Day weekend.  (When you’re a teacher, you look forward to your weekends; they are valuable.)  I was ready to say goodbye to summer “officially”, eat some of my in-laws famous turkey burgers, and my Dad’s amazing hamburgers.  Nothing was going to ruin this weekend, nothing.

Mr. and I celebrated with our families and headed back home.  I was feeling great, but was ready to get in bed.  As I was getting ready, I noticed that I had some spotting.  Which, I dismissed after I read on the Internet that was normal in the first few weeks of pregnancy.  I went to bed, woke up the next morning and knew something wasn’t right.  I told Mr. he needed to take me to the emergency room.

I silently prayed on the way to the hospital that God would save my baby.  That He would spare me, and give me what I wanted.  I walked into the ER and said, “I’m 6 weeks pregnant, and I’m bleeding.”

About half an hour later, after some blood work and a couple of other tests, the doctor confirmed my worst fear.  I had lost the baby.  I sobbed.  I have no other way of describing what I did.  I was livid.  I was absolutely devastated.

I took the rest of the week off from work, and followed the doctor’s order of resting.  I was pretty much in a fog.  I mean- who miscarries?  Am I the only person who has experienced this?  I didn’t know of anyone else who had lost a baby. 

Certainly this was a nightmare and I would wake up at some point.  I mean, I had done everything right my entire life and was shocked and OUTRAGED that God allowed this to happen.  I mean- after all- I am His child. 

Why would He let this transpire?  I have gone to church my entire life, read my Bible and done devotionals, I even waited until marriage.  This was how God was going to repay me for being so faithful to Him?   I didn’t know what to do.  All I knew was I didn’t want anything to do with God.