The week after my D&C we went to the Caribbean. It was a trip booked out of grief and American Express Reward Points. It was good to get away. To be in a different and admittedly exotic tropical location. Isolated beach locations have always been very healing to me and I was grateful that my husband indulged me. The kids were filled with joy and they loved playing on the beach, searching for Starfish and enjoyed all the water sports and undivided attention of their parents that they could soak up.
It was good for their souls as well as ours.
When we returned I went to my follow up consultation with my OBGYN. It was hard to sit in the waiting room with so many pregnant women. Not that I wished that they weren’t pregnant. I would never wish that. Seeing them was just a reminder that I once was but was no more.
I don’t have these same feelings with friends who are pregnant. I feel great compassion for how they must feel walking through my grief as they carry their blessing. I do sincerely mean every inquiry I make as to how they are feeling. I pray they know that.
Many, O LORD my God, are the wonders which You have done, And Your thoughts toward us; There is none to compare with You. If I would declare and speak of them, They would be too numerous to count.
My focus for this appointment was to make sure that I had healed well without any scar tissue and to thank everyone who had so gently ministered to me during my last visit (confirming the death of our child before my D&C). I had read that some women develop scar tissue after a D&C and I was focused on finding out if I would fall into that category and what that might mean for me if we wanted to try to conceive again. So, imagine my shock when my Doctor sat down and asked, “Has anyone called you with the pathology report yet?”
The pathology report was something we were told would take a month to get back and repeatedly we were warned that we must not get our hopes up because it could come back ‘inconclusive’ due to the fact that our baby had passed away approximately 9 days before my D&C procedure.
“No. I thought it was going to take a month to get it. You have the report? Did it come back inconclusive?” I asked him.
He assured me that he did indeed have the answers and then he very gently told me that our baby had a rare form of Trisomy. It was nothing that I did. Our baby didn’t die because of my freak allergic reactions , medications administered in the ambulance or ER, missing 5 prenatal vitamins during the course of my pregnancy or even sleeping with too many blankets one night.
Then I asked him, “Do you know the sex of the child?”
“You don’t really want to know that do you?” he asked me gently and in that moment I could see the compassion spread across his face and feel the many times he had sat with other patients over his 25+ year career, having this same painful conversation.
“Sometimes it’s easier for patients not to know. So they can move on.” He explained.
“I want to know” I assured him.
I explained that our child was already very real to us and not knowing whether I had carried a son or a daughter was actually hurting my heart.
Our baby was not just ‘products of conception’ or ‘incompatible with life’. This child was our son or our daughter and I desperately wanted to know.
So he told me.
It was a girl.
I could tell he was bracing himself for tears or hysteria or maybe me saying I wish I hadn’t known after all.
So I steadied myself. It was a shock. I had thought he was going to say our baby was a boy.
I had a daughter.
Although I will admit to weeping a bit in the parking lot after my appointment, I feel a great peace and immense gratitude. I can now see how merciful and kind the Lord was to us–all along.
I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.
He allowed us the privilege of knowing we had a daughter.
He blessed us with the opportunity to hear her heart beat twice before He took her home.
And finally, He offers the promise of eternity and the knowledge that I will meet my precious daughter one day.
I believe for the first time in my life, I have truly felt the Father’s love and compassion for me.
Our daughter was the gift that gave that to me.
Her life was not short and meaningless.
Her life has meaning and eternal consequences.
I am now forever changed because of her and what the Lord revealed to me through her life and passing.
I was blind, but now I see.
Wow. I just started following your website, so I don’t know any of the background info. (I guess I’ll read more of the previous entries) Nonetheless, my heart aches for you. I’m not going to say I know how you feel, because I don’t. But I can say after reading this entry I felt the urge to give you a hug or do or say something to try to make you feel better. That’s when I also remembered that 1) You don’t know me and 2) even if you did – nothing I can say or do will take away that pain. So hopefully just knowing that someone who doesn’t even know you cares and shares your pain makes it just a tiny bit more bearable. And yes, I’m sure the Lord has better things in store for her, because there can never be too many angels.
Oh Karin… A daughter! Such a gift to know… I don’t know what to say… Tears fall and I want to hug you ever so hard.