Losing Loryn...

“Do you trust me?”  I drove on silently through the city streets.  Again, I heard that gentle quiet voice… “Do you trust me?”  My heart raced as I shuffled through the endless possible outcomes of todays ultrasound. 

The doctor said everything looked great last week.  Just a little behind where we thought I should be at this point of the pregnancy.  He stated there was no reason to be alarmed really; growth was just a little behind… perhaps my dates were off.  I knew they weren’t.  We’d been trying to conceive for several months now.  I knew everyday of my cycle like the back of my hand.  I had faithfully kept track of my body temperature, my mood swings, physical side effects during certain portions of my cycle.  I even knew when I ovulated that month.

“Do you trust me?”  I looked toward the sky and mustered a soft, “Yes Lord, I am determined to trust you no matter what.”  Deep inside I just knew.  I knew that something out of my control was about to happen.  Breathing deep I pressed on toward the office to see what , if anything, had developed in the previous week.

Only four days of development.  No heartbeat.  Not a good pregnancy.  In the words of the ultrasound tech… “You’re not going to keep this one.”  My heart sunk and a large lump swelled in my throat.  I watched tears fill my sweet husbands eyes as he stared at the ultrasound screen.  They wanted to do a D&C the next day.  I opted to wait one more week to see… four days of development was better than none.  I love and serve a God who works miracles.  This was our miracle baby…surely…

I ached.  I cried.  I sang…  Through my tears I sang in the shower…

“Oh no, you never let go through the calm and through the storm…Oh No, You never let go, every high and every low…Oh no You never let go…Lord You never let go of me.”

The water began to chill causing me to shiver.

“Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering, though there’s pain in the offering…Blessed be your name.”

Wrapped in a soft white cotton towel I forced more sound out of my soul.

“His eye is on the sparrow…and I know He watches over me…”

 The voice I heard singing sounded foreign.  Some weary, broken soul who could barely carry a tune, pathetically singing in the shower…  it was raw…it was agonizing… it was real.

My prayers turned from begging God to help our little one to one much like my Lord prayed… “ Not my will, but Your will be done Father.”  Deep inside, I was screaming “Please!  Oh God!  Please!  Don’t make me walk this road!”

My head in my hands each morning, tears streaming down my face and onto the pages of my Bible as I read through my devotions praying for answers and longing for comfort… all about trust, all referencing waiting.  I knew God was speaking.

This baby held hope for us, a new beginning.  This was the one that would be “Ours”.  No one else to share this baby with.  No other homes.  No divided loyalties.  We would always have someone home for Christmas and holidays, no dividing of time or hearts here…  Our baby partly signified our love for God and for each other.  This baby would bring blood bonds to our family, a piece of each of us, which meant part of our kids as well…no step… a part of blood relation.   A piece to our puzzle in Stepville.

The labor had been intense.  Six hours of contractions and pushing… not what I had expected when I was told that I would more than likely miscarry.  I knew the precise moment it was finished.  I felt as though life had left my body.  Empty and unable to put verbiage to the carnage I felt physically, I trembled in fear and disbelief.  Staring wide into the eyes of my beloved husband I looked for something that would fix it.  There was no fix.  Hope forsaken.  No more prayers to be said for this little life that we had hoped, planned and prayed for.  Dream filled hearts were now broken, abandon and empty.  A ghost town of what resembled faith was all that was left. 

I cried out as I stared terrified into the face of my husband.  My sweet love embraced me as I sat sobbing and screaming on the toilet.  His sobs could be heard just under mine. 

Visions of kissing sweet little toes and fingers passed through my hands and were swept away into a large blackened sea.  Giggles and chasing through the house disappeared into a wind of desolation. 

The dream was over.  Hope was gone.  Life had left me.  Empty.

No baby to hold.  No cheeks to kiss.  No tiny hands to hold or feet to tickle.  No little one to take into my lap or place on my breast.  Just a hole where there was supposed to be a life remained.

Waves of despair passed through moments of anger pummeling me into a pit of brokenness.  How can the finite mind wrap itself around infinite purposes?  How can one who is nearly blind see the vast expanse of God’s Glory or plan?

I’d been through enough fire and nearly drown in enough storms to know that the “why?”  question is futile to ponder longer than a moment. 

So I lay there staring blankly at the flowering buds on the tree outside my bedroom window.  Longing for my sweet flower Loryn to be in my arms.  Stinging tears clouded my eyes, exhausted physically, emotionally and spiritually I sobbed and longed to touch her sweet face.  Tired of the fight, my aching clenched fist fell open and so did my heart.

“Okay God…okay… I wont ask why…I ask what… What am I to take from this?  What will you show me in this?  What can I learn?”

The upcoming blogs will focus on those things that He has and is teaching me through this journey of loss. 

I pray your heart is blessed.  I pray that you will be encouraged to ask “what?”  Instead of “Why?”…  To embrace the “Who” of Who He was Who He is, and Who He will continue to be… regardless of our circumstances.