Day 3: What It Felt Like
It felt like labor but worse. The pains came without the joyful anticipation and happy hormones that make labor easier. Instead, the contractions were accompanied by gut wrenching grief. The sharp physical pains were a mere echo of the breaking in my heart. Because of course the physical pain was not the worst part, but rather knowing what the pains meant.
My baby was gone and I was having a miscarriage.
For over an hour, I rocked on my bathroom floor crying and praying in denial, no, no, no, no, no, no, no... I repeated the words "You're gonna live and not die, says God. We speak life." over and over. After awhile, with the amount of blood I was losing, I wondered if I was really singing those words over myself. Maybe.
When we went to the ER, I got rushed in and had two IVs placed because my blood pressure was so low. I mostly felt numb laying in the ER hospital bed, except when the staff would look at me with teary eyes and tell me they were so sorry for why I was there. Eventually, my red eyed husband had to go home to take care of our boys so my sister could get to work while we waited for my mom to arrive so he could come back to my side.
While I sat alone, waiting, I reached out on Facebook and via text message, seeking prayers and letting people know what had happened. And over and over, I typed out the very worst words I've ever had to type...
We lost our baby.
It made it real. Like if I never spoke the words, maybe it wouldn't be true. If only... But no, and so I typed out repeatedly through sobs and tears the words that tasted like acid in my heart, seeking solace and relief from my friends and family.
And so my grief journey began.
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