Strength to Endure
In celebration of the life of Baby Zobrist (2)
16x20 Resin on Canvas
This is the story of my second miscarriage. Writing one's own story seems so much harder. Perhaps it's because I am revisiting the pain. Reopening compartments of my brain I purposely avoid. But I am revisiting these compartments over the next few days as I write these posts and share the Shadow Flower I've created.
It's time.
And here's why: I want other women to hear they are not alone. To give a voice to a painful, hard to talk about, hard to hear, subject. A voice of one who's been there. There is also healing from trauma in telling your own story. So perhaps something in my story will resonate with you and help you in your own journey. You might even feel the freedom to tell someone else your own story. Or maybe, it will give you insight for what your friend or loved one is going through.
May God use the power of words and art to bring a new perspective to someone else and a step towards healing in another's life.
I was nervous when we found out I was pregnant again. I told several people, "I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop". Meaning, I'm waiting for the bad news. Every time I visited the bathroom I looked for blood. I had an ultrasound at 8 weeks since I was high risk. We heard the heartbeat. Everything looked great! I was thankful for a doctor's office that allowed my husband back with me during the ultrasounds. Many women during Covid have gone through this alone.
And then the 12 week appointment. Waiting in the dark room as the nurse tried with the exterior ultrasound. She finally said "hmm, I need to do a vaginal ultrasound". Rats. I really hate those, but ok. The image of my baby flashed up on the screen. And I immediately connected with that image. The thought raced through my mind - "That's my baby!". Up to that point I had not experienced any connection to the life growing within me. But in this moment, that baby was mine. Forever. And hard on the heels of that came the words "I'm sorry. I can't find the heartbeat."
A collision within me. An intense anger rose up. No words. Just a surge of wrath and to be quite honest - it was directed at God. The giver and taker of life. Never in my walk of faith had I felt this intense anger at Him.
As I have processed this moment over the past few months I have realised that God was big enough to handle my anger. He absorbed it and comforted me through it.
To those of you who have felt the same or similar, I want to say - don't carry guilt for feeling anger. It's a human reaction to things we don't understand. But turn it over to God. He's big enough to carry it. He already knows that anger is there. And he loves you in spite of it and through it.
My doctor gave me 2 options - take medicine to induce the bleeding or schedule a D&C with the hospital. With all the complications of Covid and to avoid a medical procedure, we opted to take home the medicine.
I was scared of the unknown but just as much struggling with the fact I was carrying death around inside of me. 2 rounds of medicine later and 4 hours of bleeding and we thought we were in the clear. But a week later, heavy bleeding in the middle of the night meant an ambulance ride to the ER. Where we spent 13 hours.
13 hours of bleeding and my iron dropping. 13 hours where my husband became more and more frustrated with the lack of response from the medical team. 13 hours where I became more and more afraid that I was going to bleed out. The fear became overwhelming.
I don't really know what strings were pulled that night. I only know my husband placed a phone call. And a wonderful woman walked in who someone said was called "Trauma Mama". She replaced my current nurse with a woman named Hailey. The minute Hailey came in everything changed. When I sat up and started passing out, she's the one who made the call on getting the blood transfusions rolling. And getting a D&C scheduled. By this point, I was shaking uncontrollably, my hemoglobin was in the tank. And the fear. I don't have words to describe the fear.
These last few months I have thought about those moments and wished so desperately that I had felt peace. I wanted to bring back those moments and "do it right". As if I could control the emotions raging through me. As if God expects me to not be what I am - human. It has taken months for me to see God's hand during that time. I started asking Him to help me see how He was there. Because I certainly didn't feel it.
He has shown me He was there. In the unfailing advocacy of my husband. In the presence of Trauma Mama. And in the expert care of Hailey.
I was sent home the next day. And for a week tried to gather strength back. But in the middle of the night a week later, I woke up shaking. And then my body went numb from the waist up. I was curled up in bed unable to move. Even my mouth was numb and I was slurring my words. My husband thought I was having a stroke. So again, an ambulance ride to the ER.
This time in the ER, they were very helpful and informative. I learned that when you have blood transfusions (I had 2), it strips your body of calcium and electrolytes and can cause these effects. So they shoved those things back into my system via an iv and sent me back home.
By this time, I no longer trusted my body. It was betraying me left and right. The hormonal crash was hard and strong. I had uncontrollable bouts of shaking, constant headaches, dizziness, trouble sleeping, and anxiety attacks which usually came in the middle of the night. I literally thought I was losing my mind.
This is called trauma. This is called miscarriage. The after-effects of miscarriage can be just as strong as a full-term pregnancy but with the added layer of grief. And with me, another complicated layer of physical trauma.
I know this is hard to read. It is harder to write, reliving those moments. But if no one talks about it, nobody knows. And miscarriage continues to be swept under the rug. And that's helpful to no one.
Baby Z., we rejoiced in your brief life and we mourn your passing. The journey since you left has been hard. But God has given strength to endure. I created this in memory of your life. It's based on a Gladiolus flower, which symbolizes strength, courage, and integrity. Qualities I hope we practice and pass on to your sister here on earth.
Until Heaven, little one.
Sarah Zobrist