Playing Dodgeball with the Devil

This morning I went back to the doctor for my post-operation checkup. She said I am doing great, and we talked about my plans for growing our family. Today marks 15 days since we learned that our baby's life ended in my womb. Since that day, my mind, body, and spirit have been in a serious state of chaos. 

For one thing, I did not get a good night's sleep for two weeks. I tossed and turned every evening, only to slip into a light dreamy state a couple of hours before sunrise. Naturally, this led to intense exhaustion during my waking hours. Fight Club accurately describes insomnia as a state of being "never really asleep" and "never really awake." Bingo. That might not have been so bad if I were not a teacher. As my husband put it, teaching is like giving an eight hour presentation every single day. You have to be ON constantly. As much as I adore my bouncy, giggling, chatty middle schoolers, they were quite a handful for someone essentially on autopilot. 

Additionally, my body is still full of pregnancy hormones, so that has done nothing to stabilize my mind or emotions. For those two weeks, my moods would shift violently from depressed to angry to sentimental and reflective, then back to depressed. I teared up at the smallest things, and a day did not pass when I didn't cry several times. I did not talk much about my feelings because I was embarrassed. I felt like I was crazy. It turns out that while those emotions were real, much of the intensity behind the feelings was fueled by hormone shifts. Fortunately, that has started to subside.   

It was not surprising to me that I encountered a whirlwind of issues on the inside. What did surprise me was the plethora of problems that began popping up everywhere on the outside. I started running into obstacles physically, spiritually, relationally, and professionally. They were all totally separate from the miscarriage--just a series of unfortunate events. Let me be clear: I don't think life is ever a walk in the park for anyone, but I could not remember another time when I felt so bombarded by frustration, sadness, anxiety, stress, loneliness, fear, and despair. With every new trouble, my husband and I would look at each other knowingly, like...what now? Is this ever going to end? I felt like I was standing in a batting cage, opposite a fully-loaded pitching machine, with no bat...just getting pelted over and over again. The little illustration below summarized this phenomenon very cutely. :)

 

This second pictures gets it right as well. I've always been a fan of dodgeball, and I often find myself relating life experiences to it... 

Thank God for never abandoning us in the darkness. Very recently, He shed some light on my situation. Here's a bit of what I am learning:

1. Satan does not play fair.

After we lost our baby, I naively expected the other aspects of my life to be gentle and patient for awhile so that I could heal. The truth was essentially the opposite. We were attacked like never before in every area of life. Satan is not a gentleman or a sportsman. He will not politely stand down until you are back on your feet. He does not mind that you are bloody and limping. In fact, he prefers you that way. He is like a predator stalking a wounded sheep, licking his chops in anticipation.
1st Peter 5:8 says it this way: "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour." In other words, if you are going through a painful situation (or when you inevitably do), be ready for the spiritual warfare. He will attack you more than ever when you are vulnerable. God has not abandoned you. Stand strong and cling to Him.


2. Self-pity is dangerous. 

While we were stuck facing this onslaught of problems, I kept focusing on my issues and my sadness. The temptation to pity myself was like a powerful magnet sucking me into its trap. It was so easy to think, "Why me? Did I really deserve this? God, haven't I obeyed you? How can you deny me what I long for most?" Again, let me be clear: it is okay and totally necessary to grieve. Sadness and heartbreak are part of the healing process. However, indulging in self-pity will lead only to hopelessness. The more I felt sorry for myself, the deeper I plunged into despair.


3. There is a right way to grieve. 

Instead of pitying ourselves, we must choose to surrender our suffering to Christ. Only then can we grieve in a way that is spiritually healthy and God glorifying. If you are hurting, do not look to yourself. You are powerless to bring hope to your situation on your own. There is only One who is able to produce life and hope in your heart where there is now death and sorrow. Lift your eyes to the one who can help!

I lift up my eyes to the mountains--
where does my help come from? 
My help comes from the LORD, 
the Maker of heaven and earth. 
--Psalm 121:1-2

The rest of Psalm 121 is equally amazing. You can read it here:

We are still not out of the woods. My heart is still broken, and I still long for my child. We certainly don't have things figured out, and we still struggle with self-focus and despair, but we are learning to move out of ourselves and into God's grace. This is a discipline, and it takes practice.

The spiritual discipline of suffering well does not make grief go away. It does not make everything better. What it does, however, is protect myself and my family from the enemy's cunning. He would love nothing more than to take a sad situation and turn it into a disaster. He is an expert at using heartache to produce deep devastation in forms like addiction, abuse, divorce, depression, self-harm, etc. If instead, we surrender our suffering to Christ, we leave room for God to produce life and beauty from the ashes of our broken dreams. I believe He is already creating something beautiful from our brokenness, and I will trust Him to bring it to completion.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor. 
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, 
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners, 
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God
to comfort all who mourn, 
and provide for those who grieve in Zion-- 
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes, 
the oil of joy
instead of mourning, 
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair. 
--Isaiah 61:1-3

Still We Can Know He is Good

This morning Jameson and I woke up at 4:00 to drive to the hospital for the D&C (dilation and curettage) procedure. A few nights ago, I googled the procedure just so I would know what to expect. This proved to be a mistake. I ended shutting my laptop in tears and struggling to fall asleep that night. Ever since then, I've been dreading this appointment.

We had to be at the hospital around 5:00 this morning even though my surgery was set for 7:15. I made sure to pack the book I'd been reading for the waiting room. The book Empty Arms was written by a woman who experienced a loss during pregnancy, and her words were very comforting to me. I had received this book and the book I'll Hold You in Heaven in the mail from Kevin Hamm, the pastor of Gardendale First Baptist Church. Jameson and I are not members at GFBC, so I was really touched that he would reach out to us in such genuine concern. He had also sent us a handwritten letter of encouragement and called to pray with us over the phone earlier this week. I continued reading the book in the waiting room to calm my spirit and prepare me for the next step.

When they called us back, I changed into the hospital gown and stretched out on the gurney. Jameson held my hand until the surgical nurses came to take me to the OR. They began to give me the anesthesia and told me I might get a metal taste in my mouth. In what seemed like the very next instant, I was waking up in the recovery room. It was as if no time had elapsed whatsoever. I was truly thankful to have no memory or awareness of anything that happened.

Every medical professional at St. Vincent's was so incredibly kind and gracious to us. They made the experience as easy as possible. They kept telling me how sorry they were that I had to be there under these circumstances, and we deeply appreciated their compassion.

While I was waiting in the recovery room, one of the hospital chaplins came to talk with us. She told us that she had experienced miscarriages in her past and offered us some resources for the grieving process. She also recommended that we name our child. I had been thinking the same thing all week. I decided to discuss it later on with Jameson.

On the way home, we listened to the song "The Lord our God" by Kristian Stanfill. The lyrics deeply resonated with me:

Promise maker, promise keeper
You finish what you begin
Our provision through the desert
You see it through 'til the end
You see it through 'til the end

The Lord our God is ever faithful
Never changing through the ages
From this darkness, You will lead us
And forever we will say
You're the Lord our God

In the silence, in the waiting
Still we can know You are good
All your plans are for Your glory
Yes, we can know You are good
Yes, we can know You are good

I felt God speaking to my spirit, reminding me that He does indeed finish what He begins, that He provides for us in the desert, and that He sees us through the darkness. Finally, I was reminded that He is still good in the silence, the waiting, and the hurting. Even now, He is good. Always we know He is good. The song remained in my mind all day, and hope was renewed in my heart each time I sang the chorus.

I was extremely groggy from the anesthesia, so I crashed in bed as soon as we got home. I have barely slept at all since I first saw blood on Monday evening, so I was grateful for the much needed sleep. As much as I dreaded the finality of today, I think it gave me some sense of closure and allowed my spirit to finally rest. I believe I slept more soundly and deeply those few hours today than I have in months.

During that deep sleep, my mind conjured up one of the strangest dreams of my entire life (and I have had some doozies). I actually woke up laughing. Jameson had driven our minivan to Cullman to have  a new DVD player installed, so I texted the details of the dream to him. I think God knew we both needed a laugh today. Maybe I'll share the dream in another blog post. ;)

My mom had picked up Ayden Grace from day care this afternoon so I could sleep. After I woke up, she called and asked if she and AG could come by and bring me "feel better" prizes. My family is big on retail therapy, so I was thrilled when she walked in with a new outfit (complete with jewelry). She also brought me some strawberry and wedding cake cupcakes from Charlsie's Bakery. Unfortunately, those didn't hang around long enough to be photographed.

My sister Kalin came by a few minutes later, and my Dad followed shortly after. It was really nice just to hang out and laugh with my family.

Jameson got home from Cullman just after everyone left, and we began to discuss a name for our child. We were unable to know the gender of the baby for certain, but we had both sensed it was a girl from the start. We had even jokingly referred to it as a "she" ever since I got a positive pregnancy test. For whatever reason, the name Gabrielle Hope Prater immediately came to mind, but I didn't tell Jameson that. I just casually asked him if he liked the name Gabrielle. Jameson answered that he had always wanted a daughter named Gabrielle or a son named Gabriel. I asked him to choose the middle name. He said, "What do you think of Hope?" I was blown away that he had chosen the exact same name as me, especially because we had never discussed those names during either pregnancy. Furthermore, we almost never agree on baby names. Gabrielle Hope was the perfect name.

So here I am on this Friday evening, so far from where I believed I would be at the start of this week. I know I will never be quite the same again. To say this week has been difficult is a vast understatement, but God was present every step of the way. We know He will continue to give us the grace we need for each new day during this grieving process, and I am so thankful to have this weekend to rest and recharge.

I will close with a verse that is so timely this evening:

"My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will never be shaken."
--Psalm 61:1-2

Grieving What Will Not Be

"Unfortunately, this is not normal. The baby is only measuring six weeks, and I don't detect a heartbeat." My eyes filled with tears as the ultrasound technician asked whether or not I wanted to see my baby. She turned the screen so I could see the outline of my uterus and the very still, lifeless projection of our child. At that moment, I felt lifeless too.

Yesterday, we learned that the tiny baby in my womb was no longer living. Even though it had only been a little over eight weeks of pregnancy, this baby had existed for long before conception as a dream and a prayer. We had been praying for this child for nearly a year.

About this time last year, in April of 2013, I gave birth to my first child, a beautiful daughter named Ayden Grace. The next several weeks were a blur, but I remember the almost immediate longing for another child. My husband Jameson felt the same way. We would laugh about the fact that we were in way over our heads already with our infant daughter, but we couldn't wait to do it all again as soon as possible.

During my follow-up exam with my OBGYN, I asked him when we could potentially try to conceive again. He told me that there was no significant reason to wait, but he recommended that I try to lose my pregnancy weight first. In the next month or so, life took some drastic turns. Jameson was offered a teaching job in Birmingham, so we packed up our little life in Tuscaloosa and headed back to my hometown of Gardendale. We soon bought a house and spent the entire summer renovating it with a group of very talented and hard-working friends while we lived upstairs at my parents' house. Meanwhile, we were still very busy caring for our two month old daughter. In between painting and caulking our house, I was out looking for teaching jobs in the area. I was soon offered one at my former school, Bragg Middle School, teaching 6th grade language and reading. This entire summer of 2013 was the busiest, most chaotic season of life, but we still longed for another baby. It was a crazy dream, but it was very real in both our hearts. 

In the fall of 2013, Jameson and I began to try for another baby. Since we had conceived our daughter the very first month of trying, we were optimistic that we would be expecting again in no time. Unfortunately, that was not the case, and we had several disappointing months with no pregnancies. Still, each month, our hope was renewed, and each night, we prayed again for God to bless us with another child. 

Several weeks ago, I was getting ready for work one morning when I decided to take a pregnancy test. I had no symptoms of pregnancy whatsoever, so I knew it would be a waste of money. I was pretty sure we were looking at another failed cycle, and I thought that confirming my suspicions might give me some closure. When I took the test, I saw only one line in the window. It was another negative. I left the bathroom, got dressed, and returned to the bathroom to straighten my hair. I realized the test was still sitting out. As I picked it up to throw it away, I saw a faint but unmistakable second line. I was pregnant! 

I surprised my husband a few minutes later with the news. He hugged me so tight as happy tears filled our eyes. At last, our prayers were answered. Our family was growing! My heart was instantly full of expectation and anticipation. I could already picture my growing belly, what kind of gender reveal I would plan, the first time I would hold him or her, strolling both of my babies around the zoo in a  double stroller, spending our first Christmas together as a family of four, etc.

I tried my best to keep it a secret, but we did share our good news with a few close family members and friends. As the weeks passed by, I began planning. My parents found us a beautiful crib and changing table. We began discussing baby names, and I ordered several maternity outfits for summer and autumn. This happened to be the same week as fall registration at day care, so I went ahead and filled out a registration form and wrote a deposit check for "Prater Baby #2" in order to secure a spot for our chid. A few more weeks passed, and we decided to go ahead and announce our good news. I made a colorful chalkboard, dressed Ayden Grace in a matching outfit, and set her next to the sign. We posted the pictures to facebook the next day and received hundreds of congratulations. It was a joyful day. 

A day or two later, we began searching for a new vehicle. Ayden Grace's car seat barely fit into Jameson's tiny mustang, so we knew that two car seats never would. We drove to Cullman and purchased a used 8 passenger Toyota Sienna. We had originally earmarked that money for a trip to Europe this summer, but we were thrilled at the change of plans that would lead to our driving home from the hospital as a  family of four. We couldn't wait to fill our new minivan with our babies and their friends. 

That was Thursday, near the end of Spring Break. Monday I went back to work at the school where I teach for a teacher work day. I announced our pregnancy to my principal and vice principals, and everyone congratulated us on our news. After a busy day at work, I came home feeling very fatigued. I never take naps on week days, but this particular afternoon I could not keep my eyes open. I fell into a very deep sleep while watching TV. When I woke a couple of hours later, I went to the restroom and noticed some bleeding. I was alarmed by this, but I figured I was probably overreacting. I called my doctor, and she wanted me to come in first thing in the morning for an ultrasound. Jameson and I prayed together and tried to sleep before waking early Tuesday morning to head to the hospital. 

After two miserable hours in the hospital waiting room, we were called back to the exam room. My doctor did an initial check up and noted that everything seemed normal to her. She thought it was probably nothing to worry about, but she wanted to do an ultrasound to make sure. I was feeling relieved after hearing this, and I believed that we were going to receive great news after all. A few minutes later, the ultrasound technician failed to detect a heartbeat, and we were ushered in to the doctor's private office to discuss our options for the miscarriage. I was utterly devastated. 

I spent the day in a daze. I would weep for several minutes, then feel numb inside, then feel okay, and then feel totally crushed again. I decided to post the bad news on facebook so I wouldn't have to tell our sad story over and over again to those who thought we were expecting. Late in the afternoon, I asked my husband if we could plant a tree in memory of our baby. I needed some way to recognize this little life so that it would not be forgotten or glossed over as just "not meant to be." Jameson loved the idea. After a trip to Lowe's and two exhausting hours of digging (for Jameson) and pulling up roots, we planted a small cherry tree in the quiet spot I had chosen in our back yard. 

The tiny sapling looks more like a stick than a tree right now, but we can't wait to watch it grow and blossom. 

Jameson and I both took today off so we could be together, comfort each other, and hold our baby (which is getting harder and harder to do with this squirmy, energetic 11 month old). I've spent much of today on the phone with the doctor's office and surgical nurse. My D&C procedure has been scheduled for Friday morning at 7:15. I am already dreading it. Even though the baby in my womb is no longer living, I'm not ready to let go of him or her yet. I am savoring these final moments we have to be physically close together, and I am dreading the emptiness and separation that is to come.

My doctor says she is not concerned about my fertility health. She is optimistic about our future childbearing since I already have one healthy pregnancy and birth "under my belt." The hard part is the timeline. We have to wait two complete cycles before we can even begin trying again. I am one of the least patient people I know, so I'm feeling a bit discouraged about this. Still, I know that God is with us. He led us to this crossroads, and He will lead us through it. Perhaps he knows that it is not just my physical body that must heal, but also my damaged heart and spirit.

Many people do not understand what the "big deal" is about a miscarriage. They do not understand that the mother who experiences a miscarriage does not see it as a mistake or something that wasn't meant to be. The mother sees it as her baby, her own flesh, her beloved child. From the very first moment her eyes saw that positive pregnancy test, she saw this baby in her life forever. She and this baby are eternally knit together, and she needs the same support, understanding, and time to grieve as any other person experiencing a loss.

After we got home from the hospital yesterday, I had to take down my cover photo on facebook (see above) announcing our pregnancy. Instead of leaving it blank, I felt compelled to find a word of comfort and encouragement to take its place. I settled on the verse below from Revelation 21:4. One day, my God will wipe every tear from our eyes, and one day He will set everything right in this broken, fallen world. Until then, we can carry our hurts with the knowledge that they are temporary. In His kingdom, there will be no death, no pain, no sickness. We will be healed and whole in the presence of our Love forever. That's a promise that keeps me going today.

I do not write this to make others sad, or, worse, to make them pity me. I write this for me, so that I can process the events of this week and try to make some sense of it all. I also write this for my child, my little angel baby, who DOES matter, and should NOT be forgotten or "gotten over" like a bad day. Finally, I write this for the countless other women who have traveled this journey before me, some of them multiple times and often in later stages of pregnancy. Hearing some of your stories has given me a sense of fellowship and understanding during the loneliest experience of my life. I hope my story can offer the same to you.

DISCLAIMER: I realize that I am incredibly blessed to have one healthy child, and I realize that many people have tried much, much longer to conceive a baby without ever seeing a positive test. Additionally, I know that some have experienced miscarriages much later in pregnancy, and some have even experienced multiple losses. I understand that those women have experienced more difficult situations than mine,  and I truly hurt for them. We all carry our own heartaches and difficulties, but I can only tell the story that is mine.