What to do when a friend has a miscarriage

This is going to be graphic - but you asked.  Now sit down and listen.

What is a miscarriage?

Miscarriage is the physical pain of giving birth to a baby, coupled with the emotional pain of having a child die.

Most people - people who have never had the unfortunate experience of going through a miscarriage personally - don't realize that when a woman has a miscarriage, she goes through labor and delivery, just as she would if the pregnancy had continued progressing.  The process is the same.  Contractions begin.  They get closer together.  She pushes and expels what would have become a precious child.  Then, she bleeds for several days or weeks - every trip to the bathroom a reminder of what might have been.

Whether it happens at 6 weeks or 9 weeks or 14 weeks or 18 weeks, a child is a child no matter how small. The length of time a child is in the womb has very little to do with how "hard" labor is.

Contrary to popular belief, a miscarriage is not "like a period".  Periods do not produce placentas and amniotic sacs and tissue and babies.  There is a huge difference between light cramps and the contractions needed to expel what the medical professionals refer to as "products of conception", but mothers refer to as a precious child.

What does she miscarry?  She misses carrying a baby to term.  She misses feeling little kicks and the bond that comes from being able to anticipate when the baby will move and squirm.

She misses the opportunity to choose names and pick nursery bedding and watch her belly bloom as the child inside her grows.

She misses looking into the eyes of her child as soon as he is released, with that final push and she picks him up in her arms and sees the child she has dreamed about for nine months.

She misses the thought of the first time he rolls over, starts crawling, first steps, first day of school, first tooth lost, first haircut, first crush, first date, his driver's permit, his graduation and his wedding day.

No matter what they say...this is not a clump of tissue that just didn't develop correctly.  It is a dream.  Paradise lost.  And it hurts.

Understanding is the first step in healing...

You just heard that a friend has started spotting and is beginning to miscarry.  What do you do?

What most people do is retreat.  Afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, they walk away and do nothing. THAT IS THE WRONG THING.

So what is the RIGHT thing?

The right thing is to try to imagine that YOUR precious child has passed away.  Your giggling toddler, or your blossoming school girl - your brave young man with that little piece of hair that always sticks up in the wrong place.  You are distraught.  You are grief stricken.  You are in denial and in the most pain you have ever been in in your entire life.

What would you want someone to do for you?  Bring a meal to your family so you don't have to think about food?  Send flowers saying, "I love you!"  Take your pet to their house so you don't have to think about the needs of anyone else?

Whatever you can imagine would be helpful in that situation - just do it.

Whatever you do, DO NOT TEXT YOUR FRIEND and ask, "Do you need anything?" or "Can I do anything for you?"

Yes, she needs something.  She needs her child back.  She also needs food and nourishment.  She needs someone to lift the burden of everyday day to day things from her back so she doesn't have to think about them.  Do not make her beg.  Who wants to say, "Yeah, could you pick up a few pizzas for us?"  No one. That's who.  Just do it!

Whether they NEED a meal or not, you have NO IDEA how it feels to be loved when someone goes out of their way to DO something instead of asking if they can.  Make Nike proud.

Do not stick around after you drop off the food, unless she wants you to.  If she wants to talk, then stay. Stay forever if you have to, but just do it.  It is possible that although you have been her best friend and you have been together through thick and thin, she just may want to be left alone right now.  That's perfectly reasonable.  If her needs are taken care of, then respect her and go.  Let her know you love her and are thinking about her and you will be there the second she is ready to talk.  It may be awhile.  It may be tomorrow.  It may be next week.  Follow her lead.

Acknowledge her child.  Did they name him/her?  Call him by name.  "I'm so sorry about (insert name here).  I love you. I am here for you."

Remember her husband, too.  ESPECIALLY if you are a man.  He has also lost a child.  If he had lost a 10 year old son instead of a 10 week old pre-born child, would you ignore him at church or ask him how work is going?  ACKNOWLEDGE his pain.  Validate his child.  Give him a hug.  He is hurting just as much as his wife, and maybe even more, given that he is helpless to "do" something.  He can't "fix" this. He just has to stand by and watch.  He is grieving.  Recognize that.

Hug her children.  The baby they were hoping for and picking names for is not going to be joining the family as they had hoped.  Even if they are young and can only understand that the baby is "with Jesus in Heaven", love them.  It's OK to talk about it.  It's OK to say you are sorry.  They will always remember that you hugged them and cried with them when they hurt.

Don't think you will help her "take her mind off things" by engaging in mindless chatter.  Don't say, "By the way, you know that thing we were talking about the other day..."  She won't care.  Her child has just died. Her dreams have just died.  Don't make her try to be polite in the midst of her pain.  If you must talk, talk about her and what she needs.

ABOVE ALL - don't stay away because you are afraid of saying the wrong thing.  She probably won't even remember what you said - but she will remember if you were absent and she will remember if you stopped what you were doing to let her know that you are grieving with her.

MOST IMPORTANTLY - NEVER - no never - say things like:

-"Well, at least you weren't that far along."  (Totally irrelevant.  A child is a child no matter how small.)
-"At least you have other children." (THIS child is irreplaceable.)
- "You can have more." (Would you say to a grieving widow, "You can always get another husband."?)
- "It is God's will." (That's a whole theological kettle of fish for another time.)
- "Hey, are you going to be there Tuesday?" (Her world just stopped.  She has no idea what she will be doing Tuesday, nor does she care.)

Did you get it yet?  HER CHILD HAS DIED!!!

Don't pretend that nothing significant has happened.

WHAT DO you say??

You say,
- "I'm so, so, so sorry."
- "I am here for you."
- "What can I do?"  (You can ask, but don't believe her when she says she's fine.)
- "What would you like for dinner? Is there anything your family would prefer?"

SHOULD YOU BRING A GIFT?

Yep.

Anything that says, "YOU ARE LOVED" is appropriate.
Flowers
A sympathy card or "thinking of you" card
A gift with the baby's name on it
It doesn't even have to cost money.  It just has to say, "I love you."

Above all - LIFT HER and her HUSBAND and her CHILDREN before the throne of grace.  Ask God to heal her heart.  Ask God to heal her body.  Ask God to give you wisdom and show you how you can be a friend to them.

Make a note on your calendar to check in on her.  Remember the anniversary of the death of her child. Make it a point to follow up.  Eventually, the wound will scab over and heal, but the scar will always remain.

By the way, how do I know this stuff?  I'm not a medical professional.  I am a Mom who six times has gone through labor to bury hopes and dreams.  I've been there.  It's old hat, unfortunately, and sometimes friends just feel like, "Here we go again.  I really don't have time for this right now,"  Unfortunately, the Mom can't make that choice.  We're in this together,  I promise you that if you are there for her now, there will come a day when you need someone to love on you and someone will.  Pay it forward.

FURTHER READING:

Another excellent article can be found here:

Why miscarriage matters when you're pro-life

Coping with a Miscarriage: Biblical Words of Encouragement

Precious in His Sight: Today's Turning Point with Dr. David Jeremiah

Laying up Treasure in Heaven

But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust does corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. - Matthew 6:20-21

So here we are - nearly five months since our little Andrew Stephen visited me in a dream, said goodbye and went to heaven.  Since then, I healed physically, got back on track with my diet and health, and felt the emotional healing that was so needed. 

I have set up a soapbox on Facebook and in my circle of friends to champion the cause of Mothers and Fathers whose children die before birth.  I want our society to know that a child is a child, no matter how small.  The death of a 10 week old child in the womb IS equivalent to the death of a 10 week old child out of the womb --  Or a 10 month old, or a 10 year old.  A child is a child, no matter how small...

So it came as a complete surprise in January to see two pink lines on the pregnancy test.  I was pregnant three months - almost to the day - of saying goodbye to Andrew.  I am 45 years old. Everything I've read says that it's next to impossible to get pregnant at that age.  I don't have a problem getting pregnant.  I have a problem staying pregnant.

My first thought was anger. I was mad that this was happening again.  I thought I had learned all the lessons and was ready to move on.  Now I could come alongside others who were hurting and help them handle the hurt.  I didn't want to hurt again.

At first, I didn't have a lot of pregnancy symptoms.  No aversion to coffee - very little nausea.  But then as time went on, I started feeling more and more pregnant.

By 8 weeks, I felt like I just needed to know what was ahead.  I made an appointment with a midwife to have a sonogram to see what we were looking at.  Was there a baby? Was there a heartbeat? We just needed to know.

We went to the appointment and when they did the sonogram, there on the screen in front of me was the image of my womb.  And there was a large black hole.  There was no baby.  There was no heartbeat.  Just emptiness.

We went back into the exam room and the midwife came in and said she was sorry.  She gave me the run down of what to expect.  She said within the next couple of weeks, the miscarriage would start.  She told me what to do for pain and bleeding,  Then she said, if nothing happens in the next two weeks, she wanted to see me back in the office to repeat the sonogram.  So...there is no hope, but just in case, we'll look again and see if the sack is still empty.

I cried on the way home.  I texted my friends and family and told them the news.  The pregnancy has stopped progressing.  The miscarriage should start in the next week or so...

We went to lunch at Red Lobster.  We smiled. We talked.  We tried to pretend that I was not carrying around a perfect little placenta and an empty sack with the tiniest little remnants of our child in it.

Then we went home.  We told the children that the baby was in heaven with Jesus.  At least I could start shopping for a dress for our oldest daughter's wedding.  It wasn't going to be a maternity dress.  I could start fundraising for my planned trip to Peru in September.  I wasn't going to be having a baby in September.

I sent a message to my homebirth group on Facebook and told them the prognosis.  One of my friends said, "Hey, don't you have a tilted uterus?  There's a pretty high incidence of misdiagnosed blighted ovums in early sonograms when you have a tilted uterus.  Check it out."  So I did.  I read story after story after story of women who had gone for an early sonogram and had been told the sack was empty, only to have the baby show up on the next sonogram.  They all had a tilted uterus.

And mine is tilted.  Majorly tilted.  My babies all hang out posterior.  My cervix points at my rectum instead of forward.  Up until giving birth, I have all manner of knees and elbows protruding out the front of my belly instead of a butt and a nice smooth back.  "They just fit better that way.  That's just the way you are made."  I've heard it over and over.

So you would expect that if the pregnancy stopped progressing, the sack would not measure 8 weeks 3 days.  It would measure 6 weeks like it had twice before when my body realized that the pregnancy was not viable.  But it measured right on for dates.  You would expect that my hcg levels would have started dropping, but they didn't.  They continued to rise. You would expect my belly to stay flat - but it didn't.  I started LOOKING pregnant.  The kids would look at me and just say, "Wow".  People started asking me if I was pregnant.  I didn't even know how to answer...

I had hope.  They must have just missed the baby.  We told our friends that there was still a chance that we were going to have this baby after all.  We were beginning to relax and feel happy that we would be blessed again.  I was due on my 46th birthday.  Talk about irony!!

Then one night, I had a dream.  In my dream, I heard the voice of God saying, "His name is Paul Richard.  His name is Paul Richard.  His name is Paul Richard."  Then I woke up.  I got up to go to the bathroom and I grabbed my phone and looked up the meaning of the names.  Paul means "Small" - and he is.  Right now at this moment, he is small.  Even if he is there.  If everything is going to be OK, he's the size of a grape.  That's pretty small.  Richard means "Brave Leader".  It had been the name of Kings and actors and famous people.  So I had a small, brave leader in my womb.

I went back to sleep and went back into the presence of God.  This time, I was in a place that was all light.  I walked into the light and there was a giant throne.  The biggest throne I had ever seen.  I could make out feet on the bottom of the throne.  They were wearing sandals and coming out of the bottom of a white robe.  My eyes moved upward toward the face, but I couldn't see a face.  Just light.  Pure light - like looking directly into the sun.  Then I heard the same voice I had heard just a few moments before.  It said, "I have called him by name.  He is mine."

Then, as fast as I had entered into the holiest of places - the throneroom of God - I was back in my own bed, pondering what that was all about.  I didn't particularly like the name.  I would not have chosen it.  I laughed at the fact that I had taken 13 months to teach my Sunday School class an exogetical study of the book of Acts, which was all about Paul.  Everywhere I turned, I was reminded of Acts.  What an obvious choice for my son...

A friend called to say that she had had a dream.  The night before I had told her I was pregnant, she had dreamed that our family was at her house.  I was pregnant and we had shared the news that the baby was a boy... Now she called again to say she had another dream.  This time I was at her house and we were folding my laundry on her couch - and it was little blue shirts and blue baby clothes.  I teased that she didn't know how to fold boy clothes because she was the mother of daughters.

Further confirmation.  I was having a baby, and he was a boy -- and his name would be Paul Richard.

Hope swelled within me.  Then I would plummet.  Yes, I am pregnant.  Yes I feel pregnant.  Yes, I look pregnant.  My hormones are still raging.  Coffee makes me gag.  The nausea was overwhelming.  BUT, I saw the empty sack with my own eyes.  But it happens.  The baby HAS to be in there.  Just wait.  In a few days, when I go back to the midwife, they will find the baby.  He will be kicking away in there.  His heart will be beating wildly.  I will be so in love with that little guy.  They wouldn't be able to tell that he was a boy yet, at 11 weeks, but he was.  I knew his name.  I was folding his little blue clothes.  BUT I saw the empty sack with my own eyes...

I was up, I was down.  I was up, I was up, I was down.  I would say to Mike, "So, what do you think?" and he would answer, "I don't know.  We'll just have to wait and see."  "Easy for you to say," I would reply. "You are not constantly looking down at an ever growing belly and being reminded that he is in there."

We were remodeling our bathroom.  I needed to get out of the feeling of "limbo" I had been in since January.  Am I? Am I not? Am I? Am I not? 

Then, the kids all got a tummy bug and between painting the ceiling and the shelves in the bathroom, we were cleaning up barf and running with buckets.  First one was down, then another.  The first was better, then the third started,  It was a long week that ended with me getting it.  A night spent in the bathroom.  Horrid, horrid stuff.

By Saturday, I was feeling better.  Most of the kids were gone to other places.  The older kids were at a retreat.  The next one down was at a friend's house.  Mike was gone on a day trip to run an errand with a friend.  I was alone with the little ones.  I spent the day excited about having a baby and worried that I wouldn't.

That night, as I prepared for bed, there was just the slightest little tinge of pink on the toilet paper.  But I knew.  I knew.  

The next morning, the pink was darker pink - and then red mucous.  And it had begun.  The beginning of the end.

I sat at my desk and prepared for my Sunday School lesson.  It was from James 2:21.  It was about Abraham's faith - Abraham, our father - who had been given the assurance that his son had big plans. He was to be a brave leader.  He was to be the father of a nation...but God told him to put an end to his life.  Sacrifice your promised son.  Give him to Me.  Do you trust Me? Do you love Me?  Put your faith into action, Abraham.  Do what I tell you, because I know the ultimate plan.  TRUST ME, Abraham.  Do you trust Me?  And he did.  Abraham trusted.  Unless I miss my guess, there were sleepless nights before he put legs to his faith and gathered his son and a bundle of firewood - and headed up the mountain,  He was a father.  This was his child.  This child he loved.  He had a promise.  BUT, he trusted God above all else.  He knew God loved him and he knew that if God willed it, he would raise his son from the dead if need be.  He HAD to trust God.  He just HAD to.  And he did.  And you know the story.  Just as he raised his hand to take his son's life, God stopped him.  He just needed to know that he trusted Him.  He would provide a sacrifice.  Take your son from the altar, Abraham.  You have passed the test.

I dressed for church, feeling numb.  God gave me a son.  He gave me a promise.  He was to be a brave leader - though he was small.  Now he was going to be taken away.  Did God have a job for him to do in heaven, like his brother?  Would he be a leader there? How was I going to teach this lesson?  How would I stand in front of my class and tell them that we must have faith in our crisis moment, when I was facing a crisis moment?

I did.  I taught the lesson.  I talked about trusting God in our crisis.  I talked about how our faith HAS to be so strong that it produces spiritual fruit.  Faith without works is dead.  Then I told them about my crisis.  There were tears - not just mine.  My friend, Sylvia, asked if she could put action to her faith and pray for me and Mike - right then.  She did.  It was a healing balm to the soul.

I sat and cried through the service and then as half the congregation was away at a retreat and we were short staffed, I went down to teach Junior Church during the sermon.  I hadn't prepared a lesson, so I told them what I knew.  We talked about heaven.  We talked about who was there and what it looked like and how one day, if we have asked Jesus into our heart, we will go there.  We will walk on streets of gold and see rainbows of jewels and bask in the light of God that lights the city and the lamp of his Son, the Lamb.

Then I asked them to draw pictures of what they think heaven is like.  One picture had a unicorn blowing a trumpet and a jet.  Because you get to heaven on a big jet and you fly round and round and round. One showed the throne.  The same throne I had seen a few nights before.  The same feet at the bottom of the throne - and a teeny, tiny angel sitting on the foot - to show how BIG God is.  Another showed a huge building with lots and lots of windows - and a horse coral off to the side.

Monday morning, labor started. The contractions came on hard and long.  For four hours, I labored, passing what was to be a boy named Paul - a small, brave leader.  The contractions stopped abruptly and the cramps took over.  In my abdoman, back and down into my thighs. Standing hurt, lying down hurt, sitting hurt.  My tailbone hurt, by sit bones hurt.  My heart hurt. 

The cramps would continue until Tuesday night... about 36 hours later - when my body finally let go of that last piece of the life giving placenta.  Then, as fast as it started, it stopped.  I remember that feeling of relief when the placenta is delivered.  I am usually holding my newborn and looking into their eyes and telling them how much I love them.  Then, we cut the cord and the physical bond that has held us together for the past 40 weeks.  And then a new life begins.

"All God's Children" by Danny Hahlbohm

But not this time,  This time, Paul flew straight from my womb into the waiting arms of His Creator.  He is there now.  Someone is holding him.  Maybe it's God himself?  Maybe it's Jesus? Or maybe his big brother Jonathan, who would be 11 or 12 now, is holding him. Maybe his sister, Katie is telling him what it's like to live in heaven and that Mama and Daddy will be there soon.  Maybe his brother Andrew, who has only been there for five months - is telling him about that day that he met Mama and told her that she wouldn't understand right now, but he had to go.  "And she'll know that you couldn't help it that you had to leave her.  She knows where we are and they will be here with us forever and ever some day."

"God's not finished with Mama and Daddy on earth yet.  He has a job for them to do there, Paul.  Just like He has a job for us here, they have work to do there.  But some day, we will all be together."  Sean and Melissa are nodding in agreement.  They look forward to that day, too.

At least that's how I imagine it.  Six little treasures - doing the work they were created to do - looking expectantly ahead to the day we will all be together.

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

1 Corinthians 2:9

So, what have we learned this time around?  I don't know yet.  I know that just as before, I was chosen to be the vessel that ushered a precious life from this world into the next.  I know that God was with us every single step of the way.  I know that just as Abraham trusted God in his crisis moment, so should we.  

I know that the morning of my sonogram, God gave me this verse from Psalm 30:11:  "You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness."

I know that day will come.

I also know that I still have a calling to educate those around us about how to help those who are hurting.  Many people don't know what to say or do - so afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing - they do nothing.  THAT is the wrong thing.

My next blog post will address what to do when a friend loses a child.

(For those of you who know me in real life, PLEASE NOTE:  My parents have been through a great deal in the past year.  My father is in a nursing home and my mother has her hands full. We have not shared this pregnancy or miscarriage with them to protect them from further pain and hurt.  PLEASE HONOR THEM BY NOT FEELING THE NEED TO HURT THEM FURTHER BY SHARING THIS INFORMATION WITH THEM.  We would greatly appreciate your assistance in this area. Thank you!)

Draw a Circle

The second Sunday School Series I taught was called "Draw a Circle" and it was about seeking Revival in our homes, our church, our community and our nation by experiencing personal revival.  How do we do that?

One Sunday I brought a box of chalk with me and gave everyone in my class a piece of chalk.  I told them about the Evangelist Gypsy Smith who saw Revival around the nation when he spoke at churches in the early 1900's.   One day, a man asked him what to do to experience revival as Rev. Smith did.  Gypsy Smith told him to go into his room and kneel on the floor.  Then he said to take a piece of chalk and draw a circle completely around himself.  Then... pray fervently that God would send Revival to everyone inside that circle.

How can we experience Revival on a large scale if we have not experienced revival on a personal scale?

I challenged my class to take that piece of chalk and do the same thing.  I often go to the woods to pray.  My chalk didn't work on the dirt under the trees where I prayed, so I started gathering rocks and I formed a circle out of them.  Now, when I tell my family I'm going to "my circle", they know right where I'm going.

In my previous post, I mentioned that this is where I stood when I sobbed and cried my heart out to God in the midst of my last miscarriage.  This is where I went a couple days later to rejoice over the blessing He had given me.  I often go there and just talk to God - out loud - like He is sitting there with me.

It was after I had made my circle that I realized that I was doing all the talking, and then I would leave.  I realized that conversations are back and forth, so one day after I prayed, I just sat there and listened.  God revealed a lot to me that day.  Since then, that has been my practice.  I talk to God about all the stuff that's going on in my life.  I ask Him for advice.  I pray for my husband and my kids and my family and friends and my church.  I pray for revival.  Then I wait.  Those are the times I am inspired.  I come home and write a note to a friend or call someone or write a Newsletter article. I think through problems and wait...

Be still and know that I am God. - Psalm 46:10

If you would like to be challenged to Draw a Circle and see what God will do in your life, please download the .pdf called Draw a Circle: A guide for seeking personal revival from OneCry.com

While you are there, look around.  

What Is the OneCry Movement?

A Nationwide Call to Spiritual Awakening

OneCry is a movement of believers who are urgently crying out to God to revive the church and transform the culture. It isn't an organization, program, or event. It's a movement of like-minded people, churches, and organizations who agree that our nation needs a dramatic turnaround—but not the kind that comes from different politics, more education, or a better economy. Instead, it's a cry to God for spiritual transformation of our hearts, homes, and communities. We believe that extraordinary things will happen as we turn from sin and seek God together!

Won't you join us?

Watermark - Glory Baby

We discovered this song after we had our first miscarriage.  It was such a source of encouragement and healing. I hope it helps someone else who has had the honor of carrying a Glory Baby - no matter how long you got to be the vessel. - God Bless You.

What it took me five miscarriages to learn...

Weeping may last though the night, but joy comes with the morning. - Psalm 30:5b

Laughing Baby by Jean Keaton.  We have several of Jean's prints on display in our home.  They have been a source of comfort as we said good-bye to our babies, knowing that they are in the loving arms of God.  You may order prints at Jean Keaton Inspired Art.

If you have not yet read Another Loss...the story of our miscarriages, I recommend you start there. You will see the transformation from one who can't fully trust through the blinding tears of loss into one who has truly been set free.

Sometimes, we think we have healed and "gotten over" our pain.  Then, the same kind of storm comes and knocks down the house we have rebuilt and we realize that we never really got over it.

Such was the case with me and my miscarriages.  Yes, with each loss, I found comfort in the loving arms of God.  I knew He was trying to teach me to trust, but I couldn't.  I said I did.  I said I had faith.  But truth be told, I secretly held a grudge.  I quietly resented God. I saw each loss as a punishment.  God was taking something precious away from me to teach me a lesson or to punish me for something.  But now I understand... I was looking at it all wrong.

And it took FIVE miscarriages before I figured it out.

As I said in the previous post, each time I saw two lines on a pregnancy test after that first loss, my faith and trust went out the window.  How could I trust God?  Five times He gave me a baby and then in a matter of weeks, He took it away from me.  Now that I know what I know, I can't believe how childish and arrogant that idea was...

After my fifth loss, I had a dream.  In that dream, I saw my baby...a son. And what he told me in the dream was the key to understanding.  He said that Jesus had a job for him to do (in heaven) and that he knew I wouldn't understand right now, but someday I would.

As I thought about that, God spoke healing into my soul and gave me understanding.  You see, He wasn't taking my baby away from me.  He was allowing me to be the vessel that would carry a perfect child of God until the appointed time.  God is the only one who knows the appointed time, because He is the one who writes our days in His book.

Jeremiah 1:5 says, "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you."  God knew our little ones before they were conceived.  Psalm 139:16 says, "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

Through four losses, I read that last verse with sadness - thinking that our babies' days were not to be.  But I was so wrong.  They are living out their days, but not on earth.  They are in glory, doing the job that was ordained for them.

And no, I don't understand that.  I supposed one day I will - when I get there.  Does the Bible say anywhere that those who die have jobs to do in heaven?  Not to my knowledge, but I do know that God speaks through dreams and He gives us understanding of the scripture.  I'm certainly not going to get up in church Sunday and preach this as doctrine.  But I do know that God has done a work in my heart, and he has healed me and set me free.

-I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Jonathan Michael for 14 weeks - his appointed time.
(Jonathan means "God gives" and Michael means "One who is like God".)
 - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Katie Faith for 16 weeks - her appointed time.
(Katherine means Pure - her name means "Pure Faith".)
   - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Sean Emmanuel for 9 short weeks - his appointed time.
(Sean means "God is gracious" and Emmanuel means "God is with us".)
     - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Melissa Joy, whose unformed body remained unformed, but who is living in a glorified body today - for 9 weeks, until her appointed time.
(Melissa means "honey" - one who is sweet and Joy means "Joy" - Sweet Joy.)
       - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Andrew Stephen's unformed body and to have been trusted with being in his presence for a few short moments while he taught me more than I learned on my own in twelve years...
(Andrew means "Strong" and Stephen means "Crown". It was his strength that carried me through.)

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. - James 1:2-4

Today, in the midst of my loss, as my body still heals and recovers from the physical rigors of a miscarriage, I am at peace in my spirit.  I will see my children one day.  I am blessed by every one of my blessings.  Those who live with me here - the ones who are almost adults - who have become my friends as much as my children, are a blessing to me.  Those we are still molding and shaping into the men and women God wants them to be - whose laughter and grace fill our home are special blessings.  Those whose days are still filled with play and imagination, who are not too old to greet me with hugs and kisses - they are gifts from God. Our babies who giggle and laugh and openly express their love while they play - bring joy to our hearts. Going home will be like Christmas - we will get to open the gifts that have been under the tree with our name on them for so long.  Heaven is sounding sweeter all the time.

Another loss... the story of our miscarriages

     People blog for a number of reasons.  I guess one of them is probably therapy.  I am writing this for myself as much as for anyone else.  It is something I need to write.  Please bear with me...

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     I have written a little bit in the past about our miscarriages.  We have nine living children, but God saw fit, for one reason or another, to birth five more into heaven.  I've just experienced the fifth one this week, so I've been spending a lot more time thinking about this than I normally would.

Jesus snuggling Infant by Jean Keaton.  We have purchased several of her prints for our home.  You may purchase Jean's art at Jean Keaton Inspired Art.

Our First Loss - Unexpected Trauma

     First, let me tell you about my very first miscarriage.  It happened in 2001.  We already had four children, and we had just been convicted to trust God with the size of our family.  God had shown us that the very words "Birth Control" meant that we were taking control of whether or not to birth and we were convicted that God gives life (Job 10:12,  1 Samuel 2:6, Psalm 139:13-16) and that children are a blessing (Psalm 127:3-5) and that He alone has the authority to decide when or if a life should begin. (This is a personal conviction and something that God has convicted us about. We believe that this is something we each need to pray about and wrestle with.)
     I didn't know anyone personally that had gone through a miscarriage.  It wasn't something I thought about very often.  I had four healthy children, and it wasn't very likely that I would lose one.  I had no history and there was none that I knew of in my family.
     Then, we rejoiced when we found out that #5 was on the way.  Excitement mounted as we picked out names and got out maternity clothes.  We talked about whether it would be a boy or girl as we now had two of each.  Then, one day at 14 weeks, I started spotting.  I called the midwife and she said it could be a number of things and just keep an eye on it.  It could be the beginning of a miscarriage, or something that would just clear up and everything might be fine.  But it wasn't.  The bleeding increased and the cramps started.  I was in denial.  A miscarriage could not happen to me.  It had to be something else.  But when it was obvious that it was a miscarriage and that we were losing our precious little baby, I had no idea what to expect.
     When I had heard about people having a miscarriage before, I just assumed that they just weren't pregnant anymore. I never really thought about what happened to the baby or where it went.  Maybe they weren't even pregnant to begin with? No one told me that you are a mother, even if you lose the baby.  You go into labor, you have contractions, the baby is birthed, along with the amniotic sac and placenta and all of the other "products of conception".  No one told me about the back pain and the pain that radiates through your abdomen and thighs. No one told me about the nausea and hemmorrhaging that were possible.  It all came as a major and disappointing shock.  Why hadn't someone told me?
     I find it very frustrating that miscarriage is a taboo topic in our society.  No one wants to talk about it.  When it happens to women who have not ever experienced it before, they feel like they've been sucker punched.  There's not even much information on the internet about how to get through one naturally.  I've had emails from women who have found my website about miscarriage and asked me what to expect.  We don't like it, so we ignore it.  When a woman goes to the doctor or hospital and finds out she's lost her baby, the first thing they suggest is a D and C.  Let's do surgery and just get rid of everything - then you won't have to deal with it at home.  I thank God that He created our bodies to deal with this loss.  As our bodies prepare to give birth, our mind has time to adjust and heal. It's part of the plan.
     As the news got out that we had miscarried and lost the baby, we were met with mixed reactions. Women who had had miscarriages truly understood and as their eyes met mine, they knew.  And they passed their strength and understanding to me through that one look.  Others, who were as clueless as I had been, said they were sorry.  Some even said it was "for the best".  Others voiced their opinion that we already had enough children and God must not want us to have any more.  And then there was the comment, "Well, at least you have other children."  That cut to the heart.  It is the equivalent to walking up to a widow at her husband's funeral and saying, "Forget about your husband. You can always get married again."
     As time passed and I tried to make sense of everything, I understood that it happened for a reason, but I didn't know what that reason was. I mourned for a very long time.  I cried myself to sleep many nights, for a long time.
     We felt like the baby was a boy, and we named him Jonathan Michael.  It was Feb. 22nd and every year on that day, we celebrate his short life.
     Finally, I figured out that God was testing us.  When we said we trusted Him with the size of our family, did we mean just when He was adding to it -- or did we trust Him when He was subtracting?  That must be it.  And for a long time, something inside my mind nagged at me.  It told me that "God took my baby". I felt like I was being punished for something.
     The next year, we got pregnant again, and we had a healthy baby girl as the snow gently fell one December evening.  It was a rough delivery though.  I had not healed emotionally, and I could not let go of the nagging thought that God had taken one baby, what if He takes this one?

Our Second Loss - Letting Go

     The next year, we found that we were expecting. I breathed a sigh of relief as we passed the 14 week mark.  I felt like we were "home free".  Then at 16 weeks, there was that pink tinge on the toilet paper.  The pink tinge turned to spotting and then bleeding and I knew that God was about to take another one.   I didn't want to let go.  The spotting continued for a week.  I would not give in to the fact that I was going to lose my baby and was in major denial.  Finally, on the 7th night of bleeding, I went to bed and slept sound.  I had a dream.  I saw a baby girl.  She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't understand her.  I kept asking her to repeat it.  Finally, about the third time, I heard her.  She was saying, "Say good-bye Mommy".  "Say good-bye.  You have to say good-bye."  I knew I was holding onto something that wasn't meant to be. I told her I was sorry and I told her good-bye and I would see her again.  The next day, the miscarriage completed.  It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, 2003.  We named her Katie Faith, and we put an ornament for her on the Christmas tree.
     My faith actually increased through the losses.  I learned to trust God, but at the same time, in the back of my mind, I didn't trust Him.  Just when I thought I could trust Him, he pulled the rug out from under me. Each time, I came to terms with the loss and grew closer to God and was comforted that HE knew all things and that He was the potter and I was the clay.  He loved me and mourned with me.  But how could I know that He wouldn't do this to me again?
     When I got pregnant again, we went to a fertility specialist.  He told me that my miscarriages were most likely chromosomal.  Something in the baby had not developed properly and it couldn't survive.  I had a healthy baby after my first loss, so it was not something that was likely to repeat.  It "just happens".  In fact, 10-15% of pregnancies end in miscarriage.  It's not that rare.  But so far with that pregnancy, everything looked good.
     And it was.  We had a healthy little boy followed by a healthy little girl the next year.  We now had 7 children on this side of heaven - and 2 on the other side.

Our Third Loss - Earlier than before

     Our baby had just turned one and we had a positive pregnancy test. Then, again, the Saturday before Thanksgiving 2007, we had an early miscarriage at just 9 weeks.  We placed the perfectly formed, 1" long body of our baby in a silver heart shaped box and buried Sean Emmanuel in the flower garden amongst the Forget me Nots.  Five days later, as the Nation bowed to give thanks, we gave thanks for the new treasure we had stored up in heaven.

Our Fourth Loss - Did we lose a baby?

     The following year, we got pregnant again.  As we were planning a trip to Connecticut for my niece's wedding, the spotting started.  We didn't want to miss the wedding.  Three of the kids were to be in it and we really felt like we should go.  A sonogram showed a "blighted ovum".  This is when a fertilized egg implants in the uterus, and the sac and placenta develop, but the baby doesn't.  You would think that a miscarriage with no baby would be easier, physically, but for me, it wasn't. The bleeding increased as we drove to the coast and dressed for the wedding.  I spent much of the reception in the Ladies' Room.
     The next morning, we took the kids to the Atlantic Ocean.  I stood and looked out at the endless water and thought about the babies we had lost, and about the God who created them. My pregnant belly, just beginning to "show" was a constant reminder that a tiny placenta and an empty sack still lay within me. My salty tears dropped into the salty ocean.  The ocean was powerful, but the God who made it was even more powerful.  And I was His child.  And He loved me more than I could possibly imagine.
     As I sat there staring at the waves washing up on the shore, and my children marveling at the vastness of it all, I pondered what this "blighted ovum" meant.  Did we lose a baby if the baby didn't form? If there was no baby, was I even pregnant?  Then the answer came that I knew all along.  We believe life begins at conception.  The moment the egg was fertilized, life began.  I imagine that is also when a person's spirit is born. Psalm 139:16 says, "Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."  God saw the unformed body of that little one and ordained her days.  They were not to be on earth, but in heaven. She will have a body in heaven - a glorious one. We left the beach and headed for home. With each stop, the miscarriage progressed.  Finally, in a rest area on Rt. 80, it completed.  My hopes and dreams for this child were now gone. I flushed what was left of my pregnancy down a public toilet.  I cried the rest of the way home. And I prayed that God would never let me go through that pain again.      I had had a dream about the baby weeks before, and when I awoke, I knew that her name was Melissa Joy.  That's what we named her, and her ornament joined the others on the tree that Christmas. On the second anniversary of the loss of Melissa, I was pregnant with what would hopefully be our 8th living child. I was out of the country at 14 weeks and woke every morning wondering if I would lose the baby before I got home.  I didn't.  She was born in December.  Almost two years later, just after my 44th birthday, our 9th was born. 

By the time she was weaned, I was feeling like we were done.  Of course, it was up to God, but I no longer had the urge to have another baby.  Our oldest was now in college, I was caring for my parents and my husband's mother.  We were in the next stage of life.  My doctor asked me at a check up if we were done and I told her it seemed to be that way.  At my next appointment, I was pregnant.

     Two days before I was 10 weeks pregnant, (At age 45 and 1 week) there it was again.  I got out of bed last Wednesday morning, went to the bathroom - pink on the toilet paper.  NO! Not THIS again! I started to cry.  I knew the odds of having a baby at 45 were low.  I knew the risk of miscarriage was high.  But I had not felt that dread I know so well - that something isn't right. I had peace that things were going to be OK.  Little did I know it was -- but not in the way I expected.
     I asked for prayer.  Friends started telling me they had spotting and had a healthy baby.  I know it happens - but it had never happened to me.  I had never had spotting that didn't end in miscarriage.  I knew. Right then, I knew.
     I took a walk up the hill and ended up in my prayer circle in the woods.  I stood in the circle sobbing and yelling at God.  "What are you doing to me?  What could I possibly learn that I haven't already learned in FOUR miscarriages?  WHY are you taking my baby? Again?  I want to see the baby.  I want to know if it is a boy or girl.  I want to know what the baby's name would have been." I cried until I had no more tears. The late afternoon sun shone through the tree tops and illuminated the spot where I was standing.  I lifted my face to the sun and felt the warmth on my face.  Then, I turned to go home. I told God if He had anything to say to me, I was listening.
     It was the first night of our Awana Program.  I knew we needed to be there, but I also knew I couldn't be there.  I needed to stay home. The bleeding had picked up and the cramps had started.  I was so tired, so I went to bed in a quiet house, all alone, while the rest of the family went to church.
     Then while I slept, I had a dream.   I was walking through a field. The grass was knee high and blowing in the breeze. I looked up and saw an old church. There was a stone step in front of the church, and there was a baby boy sitting on it. He was probably about 9 months old. He had blonde hair and big blue eyes. He was laughing, cooing and smiling. Then he started waving at me. As I approached and started to bend down to pick him up, I looked at the church again and I knew it. It was the old Fairview Church on the hill at Porter Creek in Kentucky. The church where my great great great grandfather, Andrew Porter, an old fashioned Methodist Circuit Riding Minister, had worshipped. His son, Stephen, had built the church and was its first Pastor. It was Andrew and Stephen Porter's church. That's why he was there he communicated to me... So I would know his name. Andrew Stephen. He said he had to go to heaven because Jesus had a special job for him to do. He said he knew I didn't understand right now, but I would some day. He waved again and said bye bye. I told him it was ok for him to go. We wanted to hold him and watch him grow up, but if Jesus needed him, we would see him again when we get there.
I awoke and I was at peace. God had answered every question I had asked. I saw my baby. He was a boy. His name was Andrew Stephen. What did I have to learn that I had not learned in four previous losses? I knew that too. (See my next post - What it took me five miscarriages to learn)
     The next morning, I just felt like I needed to know what we were facing.  The spotting had gone from pink to brown to watery red and back to brown.  Then it stopped.  Then it started again.  I had never seen this pattern before.  I just needed to know.
     I called and got an appointment with an OB practice,  I explained what was happening and they said they could see me when I got there.  When we walked in the office, the receptionist told me they had canceled my appointment and wanted me to go across the street to the Women's Hospital and they would see me there.
     We went in and registered and were taken back to triage.  It was a few minutes after 11 am.  They gave me a gown and said they'd be back.  It seemed like forever as we sat watching the clock.  I already knew the baby was gone.  I just needed to know what to expect.
     Forty minutes later someone came in.  They needed bloodwork to see what my hcg level was.  After trying two different veins unsuccessfully, they called the lab.  Another wait.
     Finally a guy came in from lab and tried a different vein and drew 3 tubes of blood.  After a couple of jokes, he was gone.  We went back to watching the clock.  I wished we had stayed home.
     A while later, a woman came in and said she was there to do a sonogram.  She wheeled my bed down the hall and into the sonogram room.  Mike followed and stood by the door.  She said she wasn't allowed to tell me anything.  I told her I knew I was miscarrying.  I watched her face for any sign.  There were none. She clicked and measured and rolled the wand across my belly.  Mike watched from behind her. It seemed like an eternity - poked and prodded - and in the dark.
     When we were back in triage, I asked Mike what he saw.  He saw nothing.  (A father who has seen no less than 20 sonograms in 14 pregnancies - and who had worked on imaging software at a previous job - is pretty skilled in knowing what is on the screen.)  No heart beat, no baby.  She measured the sack and ovaries.  Checked my kidneys. That was all.
     "Blighted ovum".  Again.  They said it was rare.  They said I would probably never have another one.  I am always one to defy the odds...
     Sometime after 2:00 pm, a doctor came in.  I had never seen her before.  She asked me questions to ease the blow.  When did the spotting start?  What did it look like.  Then she told me that the sonogram showed an empty sack.  Before she could say the words, I said them.  "Blighted Ovum".  She looked surprised.  Most people don't know what that is.  I did. I knew it very well.  She said the sack measured 6 weeks gestation.  At 6 weeks my body realized there was no baby, and stopped growing.  It took 4 more weeks before the process began to expel what was left of the pregnancy.  Did I want a D and C or did I want to pass it on my own?  A week, maybe two.  If the miscarriage wasn't complete, call them.  Watch for high fever, heavy bleeding - all the routine warnings.  I've heard them before.  I've lived them before.  I knew what to watch for.
     I was released.  You may go - call us if you need us.
     By the time we got home, the pink and the brown turned to red.  It was like my body was given the go ahead to do what it had to do.  Cramps started and stopped.  A dull ache spread across my lower back. Pain radiated through my thighs and abdomen.  I was exhausted.  I slept.
    Friday morning I woke, hoping to just get things going and get it done.  I sat on the couch with my feet up and taught school.  I pretended like nothing was going on.  I read the story of Caesar Augustus. We talked about the senses in Science.  I checked English worksheets and told the kids we'd save Spelling Tests until Monday.  Surely this will be over by Monday?
     Saturday was a rare day with nothing on the calendar.  Nowhere to go.  Nothing to do.  This would be a perfect day to complete a miscarriage. I wrapped up in a warm flannel gown, put on a soft robe and slippers and sipped coffee while I typed out notes for my Sunday School class in case I wouldn't be able to go to church the next day.  The cramps continued, the bleeding increased.  The day came and went - I went to bed.
     Again, the family went to church.  I stayed home - with my youngest little one - not yet 2 - and Jehovah Rophi - the God who heals.
     I had a rare break from the cramps, so I got us dressed and we went for a walk - across the stream, up the hill, around the pond and into the woods - to my prayer circle.  The very circle I had stood in Wednesday afternoon, sobbing and questioning God.  This time, my heart was filled with gratitude.  For I had learned the lesson He had been trying to teach me for twelve years.  How could I have been so blind? How could I have blamed God?  How could I have been so arrogant to think it was all about me?  Now I knew.  Now, I had a thankful heart.  Two of my babies had gone to heaven at Thanksgiving time - and I didn't even see the connection.  Oh how He loves me...
     Cassie and I spent a lazy day at home.  I made us salmon and quinoa and green beans for lunch.  We lay in the hammock on the porch.  I read a book and waited.  Inside, my body worked at the job it had to do. But I was at peace.
     This morning (Monday) we got up, had breakfast and family prayer.  We talked about mutual respect for one another.  We read Ephesians 5:21 - Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.  Then we did morning chores and started school.  We got through spelling tests with a couple bathroom breaks.  I started to pass tissue.  I went back to teach Science.  Smelling and Tasting were the senses on today's agenda.  The kids worked on their worksheets.  My first grader cut her paper wrong.  I stood up to get the book to make another copy, and as I did, I felt my placenta detach from the wall of my uterus.  I ran to the bathroom - and the miscarriage completed.
     I had asked God after every loss - and at every positive pregnancy test - not to let me go through another loss.  Having just completed my fifth loss today, I can say that I serve a loving God and I am so thankful that I finally "get it".  Keep reading to find out what it took me five miscarriages to learn...

Blogging again...

    I've had a couple people tell me in the last week or so that they read my blog. Then, I realized that I haven't blogged for... well... quite some time.  So, it looks like I have a lot of catching up to do.

     Since I last blogged, our 9th baby was born.  She will be TWO in November. LOL  (Yeah, it's been awhile.)
     My husband and daughter survived a trip to the Amazon last June and I am planning to go in November with my two teenaged sons.
     Our oldest daughter got through her first year at Cedarville University, and is packing to go back next week for her second year.
     We finished another year of homeschool, and completed "Creation to the Greeks" in My Father's World.
     We helped start an Awana Club at our church and are amazed at God's goodness.
     We are another year older and another year wiser...

So where are we now?

     We are about to start another year of Homeschool... I'll do a post about our curriculum for this year.
Our oldest son will be a senior this year.  We are praying that God will lead and guide him in making wise decisions about his future.
     After some issues that came up with my parents' health and care situation, I am back on the Ohio rotation.  We are also still caring for my mother in law who lives next door and is dealing with dementia and diabetes.
     We are finally (almost a year later) about to finish the Book of Acts in Sunday School.  What an honor it has been studying with the adult class and digging in to God's word - learning the historical and cultural significance of the early church and seeking a boldness ourselves in sharing the Gospel message.
     We decided to part company with the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts after watching them take a path that led away from our traditional values, and we are helping to start a Keepers of the Faith Club this year. Looking forward to teaching the kids the things that used to be important. ;)
     On the farm scene, we have new baby goats, new chicks, a new calf and we just bought a new ram for our flock.  Our beloved Border Collie, Buster passed on this Summer, and a new little fiesty, active Border Collie Puppy that has been named MANDIE in honor of one of our literary heroins, has come to join our family.
     Other than that, I've cooked and cleaned up after a lot of meals, washed a lot of laundry, driven a lot of miles, and prayed... a lot!  OH!  I've also changed the way I eat!  God put a copy of Trim Healthy Mama into my hands, and it has changed my life.  I had resigned myself to the fact that I was fat and that was just the way it was going to be - there was nothing I could do about it.  That was almost 40 pounds and 4 dress sizes ago!  So I may mention THM from time to time here. :)
     OK, now that you're all caught up, I'm just going to pick up where we left off and pretend there was not almost two years in between.  LOL  See ya around and enjoy those Beauteous Days!