a reflection to heal.
I posted briefly shortly after our loss: https://blendstrong.com/2018/06/02/miscarriage/, which came after attempting to maintain my 40 before 40 birthday posts challenge with: https://blendstrong.com/2018/05/28/poetry-therapy/ and https://blendstrong.com/2018/05/28/stealing-lemons/.
After a few days, I chose to write more: https://blendstrong.com/2018/06/11/miscarriage-revisit/.
Picking up where I left off…
Everyone had an opinion: “You have to have another girl. Y’all wouldn’t know what to do with a boy.” “You definitely need a boy. You already have four girls.” Everyone had such conviction of their opinions for our life, family, and home. (I always find that funny… everyone thinks they know best what you need when they spend maybe 1-8% of the time with you.) I even stated, “God has always proven a sense of humor. He knows Jane Austen is my favorite classic author. But, come on dear Lord, I do not need to be living Pride and Prejudice up in here with five daughters. I need a boy for my husband.” I am not foolish enough to think I know what is best for us over Him either. My husband couldn’t state either way. He wanted either one.
We were both pretty excited. We were in a haze, too. We were looking for a new home with five bedrooms before I surprised him with the news. The baby has been sharing space with us in a four-bedroom rental home as we recover from job alterations and the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey. The three older girls each have a room for themselves. Our formal dining and den are one great room with no separation. As renters, we cannot do a dang thing. We needed a new space. It was time to move.
We needed six bedrooms… SIX BEDROOMS! We knew, we could not share a room with a baby forever. We needed to look outside the box… look at the bones of a house. Channeling our personal admiration for Fixer Upper (my husband is a version of Chip for sure), we asked with every house we viewed, “what could we do with this space.” We started looking at homes with 4 bedrooms with a formal office and dining or den that we could close in.
As we dove into house hunting and my blog was reaffirmed, my morning sickness subsided. I was shocked. Days would go by without a first trimester symptom I was used to. I literally was claiming it must be a boy because I felt so good with this one whereas I had felt so horrible when I was pregnant with my three girls. I would be going through the motions of my days and would forget I was pregnant for lack of symptoms. I also began to have doubt. I shared this worry with only a few people. I felt so good I worried something was wrong. I did not want to give into fear though.
I had even text my workout crew my intention to maintain working out with this pregnancy. I grew fearful pregnant with our first baby my workouts slowly diminished. I was also pulled from work. I was limited to prenatal yoga. I vouched to my crew I was going to maintain a workout regimen with this one and not live in fear. They promised to cheer me on and join me in sharing workouts.
God was taking the reins on the house hunt at the same time… more than we could imagine then, but we understand even more now.
As the days progressed, we found a home in the neighborhood we have been hoping to get into for a year and a half with a year old resell coming up for sell and lowering their sale price to our budget line. The formal office would be the baby’s bedroom as it houses a closet and an accessible bathroom. The new baby would share with us the first year, which would give us time to close in the formal dining for their room. All three big girls would be upstairs. The game room upstairs is large enough to allow us to close in a portion for another bedroom, to move the kids around, to give us an office space downstairs in a few years. Garage provided space upstairs to build out when the older kids head to college and need more privacy. We were sold.
We made an offer, the offer was countered, we countered, and all was accepted. We were feeling peace settle in. The calm after the storm.
Sunday, 20 May 2018, we decided on the Godparents for our new baby as we headed back home from visiting with family. A reinforcement for the combined eight Godparents already chosen for our four children. Another set of four Godparents we knew would honor our wishes for our combined five children by ensuring communication was maintained for our children and our Christian faith would be prominent. It was all so smooth and easy. No worries. We just were on the same page.
I text my angel squad 22 May 2018 to share the good news, “We have a contract pending… Heading over for inspection now.” They had been praying for us as a couple, every step of the way, these last almost four years. It’s what we do… pray for each other.
I text, “I told Donald I don’t need a birthday party, I am having another baby and getting a new home. I feel spoiled already.” They responded with love. I added, “Lol. He said, too bad, it’s already planned.” They died laughing with emojis and echoed his sentiments.
That evening, we had all four girls. Tuesday nights are our weeknights with all our babies during the school year. Donald had mentioned the night before doing old wives’ tale tests with the girls to guess the sex of the baby. He came home with a gleam in his eye. I just giggled at him.
Unbeknownst to me, I grabbed a key out of the palm of his hand which exposed the sex of our new baby. We all laughed. A lot. I laid down and we tied a charm, and then a ring, to a string to watch how it moved to determine the sex of the baby. No test was conclusive with the next. Flip a coin. Either or. We were brewing a baby boy or a baby girl. Either would have made us happy.
Four days later, 26 May 2018, my husband was getting up early to meet a few members of the cook off team to help finish and deliver briskets to a benefit to support those affected by the tragedy at Santa Fe High School. Just as he kissed me goodbye, I asked him to wait a second, “hey, baby, wait here for a minute with the baby, so I can go pee real quick.” I was exceptionally hot and sweaty, too. He carried her to the kitchen to get a sippy cup of milk.
He couldn’t hear me hollering for him from our master bath, “Donald! Donald!” No answer. I stared at the blood on the toilet paper in disbelief. I grabbed my panties to look down; blood. I stood, to look in the toilet. It was worse. I yelled more, “Donald!” Gulping back a cry trying to break free. “Donald!” Nothing. I waddled into the bedroom with my underwear around my thighs to holler even louder, “Baby! Donald!” as it almost became a scream. He came into the room holding our baby and her milk, “Baby. I’m here. Shhhh… you’ll wake the gi-“ He cut off at the word, “girls” as he saw my panic-stricken face. “What is it?” I showed him the toilet paper, as I waddled into the bathroom, pointed to the toilet, sat back down, and showed him my underwear. He lost all expression.
I threw my hands to my face and started bawling. After an instant, he was standing next to me, shhhing me. Telling me it was going to be ok. He sat the baby down on the floor and showed her the toys we keep for her there. Handed her the milk.
I tried to stop crying. I asked him for a pad. The blood was steadily dripping. He grabbed a pad from the linen closet in our bathroom. I applied one, crying the whole time. He recommended the hospital. I shook my head, yes, knowing there wasn’t anything they would be able to do this early but confirm what was happening. He offered for my sister to be called; I shook my head yes again. He made the call.
To be continued…
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