I will never forget the morning of October 13, 2015.
I'll never forget watching with wide eyes as those two blue lines appeared. I'll never forget the feeling of my heart begin to race, and my throat tightening as I choked out some form of words to wake up my husband. I'll never forget his calm and smiley reaction to the news as I sank to the floor in a cold sweat, white as a sheet. I'll never forget finally gaining my composure and having a re-do of the moment with my husband that involved hugging and laughing and kissing. I'll never forget calling our parents an hour later, everyone so elated. I'll never forget the weeks that followed, making plans, taking weekly pictures even though I wasn't showing in any way yet, slipping the news to family and friends because I was much too excited to keep it all to myself. I'll never forget letting it sink in, and settle deep down into my heart: we were pregnant, and I was so happy.
I will never forget the morning of November 2, 2015.
I'll never forget how anxious we were to get to the doctor. I'll never forget all the text messages coming in from our family members, asking if we had pictures yet. I'll never forget the doctor coming in, shutting off the lights so we could see the ultrasound screen, and getting us excited to see our baby. I'll never forget the silence in the room as we all stared at the screen showing us a black circle with the smallest white spec inside it. I'll never forget her flat voice as she explained that there was no heartbeat, and our baby had stopped developing and died very early on. I'll never forget how all the sounds, and lights, and walls around me seemed to just cease from existence, while that screen with the empty black circle swallowed my entire being. I'll never forget calling my mom, "no, it's not good news." I'll never forget calling my boss, "I won't be coming in today, or the rest of the week because I have to have surgery." I'll never forget my husband getting home and almost immediately going to work in the yard, silently. I'll never forget collapsing on my bed, sobbing, and calling my mom again to hear an echo of everything I felt on the other line, knowing she knew exactly how I felt having gone through this with the child between my sister and I. I'll never forget reality hitting me like a train: I was going to miscarry via D&C the next morning, and it felt like there was absolutely nothing to be happy about anymore.
I will never forget the morning of November 3, 2015.
I'll never forget how I barely slept that night, and nightmares seemed to haunt me every time I closed my eyes. I'll never forget watching the sun rise that morning, something I've shared so intimately with the Lord so many mornings in my life, and feeling His love. I'll never forget the blur of the drive to the hospital, the waiting room, the papers to sign, and finally being called back to prep for the OR. I'll never forget laying in the cold bed in the prep room, crying alone. I'll never forget the sweet nurses who brought me tissues and offered words of kindness when they saw me crying, who brought me a heated blanket to keep me warm, who held my hand when they put in the IV, who made me feel less alone. I'll never forget my husband finally getting to come back and sit with me, and seeing a good friend following close behind him who had come to pray with us, and told us he and his wife walked through this once before too. I'll never forget the coolness of the twilight drug going through my arm as they wheeled me back to the OR. I'll never forget feeling at peace about the whole situation. I'll never forget waking up in the recovery room, relieved that it was all over and ready to just be home, but the drugs and loss of blood kept me in and out of sleep for hours. I'll never forget the drive home from the hospital when my husband told me that my sister-in-law, who was one week behind me in her pregnancy, had miscarried that morning, and how my heart somehow shattered even more than it already was. I'll never forget my mom meeting us at home to bring us dinner (she would be by my side every day for the rest of the week to take care of me, and just to be there like the angel she is, while I recovered--mentally and physically--and my husband went back to work). I'll never forget the sweetest phone calls, texts, visits, meals, and cards we received from so many. I'll never forget finally coming to terms with it all: we lost our baby, but God's love and grace were so very evident in the community of believers that surrounded us, and there was a lot to be thankful for despite everything else.
I will never forget you, my first baby.
I will never forget the evening of March 13, 2016.
I'll never forget how anxious I was to know if I could be pregnant again, just maybe. I'll never forget my sister-in-law's text to me two weeks prior, saying she'd dreamed that I was two weeks pregnant. I'll never forget the dreaded feeling of disappointment as the negative line appeared quickly while my husband and I stood over the test in anticipation. I'll never forget my husband continuing to stare down at the counter and looking back at the test myself to see what he was focusing on: a faint second line beginning to become clearer. I'll never forget my excitement being instantly squandered with the fear of what we'd just been through. I'll never forget deciding to wait to tell anyone, hoping to protect them from any more pain if it all were to happen again. I'll never forget the next few weeks, constantly praying that our baby was developing as it should be, and feeling oddly comforted by the morning sickness I was experiencing daily. I'll never forget cautiously approaching the thought almost every hour of every day: we were pregnant again, and maybe this time the story will have a happy ending.
I will never forget the morning of April 12, 2016.
I'll never forget how nervous we were. I'll never forget praying together that morning, for the hundredth time, that God would bless us with good news. I'll never forget the text messages from the handful of people who knew, with prayers, Bible verses, and kind words of encouragement. I'll never forget the drive to the doctor, remembering the last time, and the tears that I could not stop from flowing. I'll never forget the long wait, praying the whole time. I'll never forget the doctor finally coming in, bubbling over with encouraging words as she turned the lights off the way she did last time. I'll never forget laying back as I whispered the only prayer I could think to speak in the moment, "Oh, Jesus, please." I'll never forget the screen lighting up with an image of a little gummy bear sized blob inside that familiar black circle, with a tiny light flickering inside of it. I'll never forget feeling a smile spread across my face as I gazed at that little flickering light as if it were a lighthouse after being lost at sea. I'll never forget clutching the picture our doctor printed out for us, as if the piece of paper itself were my child. I'll never forget texting and calling with good news. I'll never forget finally allowing myself to feel the excitement I had been so afraid to let myself feel: I had a baby developing inside of me, perfect and healthy, just as we prayed for, and I was so thankful.
I will never forget that our Father has a plan for each of us, and every story is beautiful in it's uniquely broken way. I'll never forget that God holds each of us together; He knows the very second we will take our first breath, and the one in which we will breathe our very last. I'll never forget the way He has blessed us with this incredible testimony of heartbreak and healing. I'll never forget how He has orchestrated all of these events so that where, once, November was a month of sadness and loss, and will soon be one of overwhelming joy and new life. I'll never forget His love that has never left me, and as our little girl kicks in my womb as I write these words, I'm reminded again. I'll never forget that the blessing of this child is so much more than two strands of DNA coming together to form a new one, she is tangible evidence that God is with us--He hears our prayers, He sees every tear we cry and has compassion for us, He gives His peace in times of trouble and sorrow, He redeems broken things, and He is always, always good.