I’ve been dreading writing this post. But, due to several public appearances my husband, my children and I have had to make this week, plus inevitable fact, I probably need to throw it out there. We lost our little baby.
I have never been more devastated.
I don’t even know what to do with myself.
I had this excruciating lower-back pain last week, followed by a tiny bit of spotting. Caleb insisted I go to the doctor, so on Monday, she checked me out and gave me some grim news. And while a lab test came back favorably that day, a follow-up test showed that my hcg levels were going down–further confirmation of what my doctor was telling me all along.
I didn’t believe her. I really just didn’t–I was sooooo hopeful. I really thought I was finally going to get my Lucy.
I’m still trying to make sense of it. I’ve been praying for peace but it’s not happening. I’ve been poring over my bible hoping that some verse will jump out at me and make me stop crying–the only thing I’ve been able to come away with is that people in the bible? Were kind of scandalous. And if a woman couldn’t have a baby, well then her slave had a baby for her.
I don’t have a slave. And where is my peace?
Is it because I couldn’t give up coffee?
Is it because I talked schmack about my dog? (Who, by the way, has not left my side since it happened. I like him a little better now.)
Is it because we can’t fit another kid in the backseat of our car?
Or was it because we were so excited and confident and told everyone less than 24 hours after I was done peeing on the stick?
Are we being punished, or was there something wrong with our baby? What, was it craniosynostosis? A deformity? A disability? I could handle it, God! I promise!
Is it because there are millions of children in the world who need loving homes, and since I’m adopted, it’s time I return the favor?
The little kid part of me won’t stop saying "It’s not fair. I want my mom. And my dad, and my sisters. Everyone else is getting their baby." But the grown-up Toni quickly repeats what everyone else has been saying to her: "It’s alright. There’s a reason–there was probably something wrong with the pregnancy. You have 3 beautiful, healthy, children. You guys can always try again later."
But I know that I do not have the mental energy to try again later, much less go through this again.
I also know that I do have 3 beautiful, healthy children, and that if it weren’t for Merrick, running around the house with a laundry basket on his head, singing "I like to Move it, move it!" at the top of his lungs while Mia chases him throwing balls at his head, giggling her brains out, things would be unbearable around here. Cheyenne’s sarcastic jokes make me laugh. She has been such a huge help this week.
And Caleb? He’s doing alright. I think. Words cannot describe what a wonderful, supportive husband he is, just when I thought that he couldn’t be more perfect. I have fallen in love with my husband all over again, and more intensely than ever before–and not just because he’s doing the laundry.
And while I might not have my mom, or my dad, or my sisters, or my baby…I do have my family.
God has given me everything I need for right now.