It was September of 1993 when I learned I was pregnant. Finding out I was expecting a baby came as such a joyful surprise! We were newlyweds and had "planned" to wait for a couple of years before having a baby. We were both so overjoyed, so happy! From the very beginning, we began planning for this child. What would he or she be like? What would we name this precious baby?
For a boy, we chose Bobby Evan, and would call him Evan. Bobby is his daddy's first name (even though he goes by his middle name), as well as one of his grandpa's names. Evan was a name I loved for years. It was settled.
I was 11 weeks along when I miscarried Evan. The day was October 9th. I had been out at yard sales, having a blast buying baby things. I went to my parents home with a few things we had bought. My husband was at work. My Dad was in the hospital. I had no warning. I simply made a trip to the bathroom and became worried. It must have been my Mom who called the doctor, I don't remember. All I know is I was told to get still and relax. How was I to relax? I was so scared, yet I tried my best, and remember reclining in a chair trying to stay calm.
After calling my husband, he came home and I went to the doctor. It was there that it was confirmed, I had lost the baby. My heart sank. At that moment, I felt as if time had stopped. In fact, I wanted time to go back a few days, so I could still be pregnant, still have my precious baby with me. Maybe I could do something differently and he would be born. I was told to go home and if all went well, I would not need a D & C.
All went "well" and after a couple of weeks, physically, I was fine. Emotionally was another story. It was so hard to get through the days knowing I was no longer expecting my baby. Facing the baby clothes I had bought, the stroller my sister-in-law had given me only compounded my grief. Yet, I did not want to get rid of those things. They somehow made me feel closer to my child.
Of course as many women who miscarry face, I too heard my share of hurtful comments. Oh! I don't believe any of the people who spoke them meant harm, but how I wish they would have stayed silent. A simple "I'm praying for you" would have sufficed. Hearing "It was just God's will" did not help me a bit. Yes, I know that God was in control, but it didn't help my heart at that moment. Hearing, "your baby probably had a birth defect and your body rejected that" certainly didn't help. The doctor in fact told me that he believed my body would reject any baby that wasn't "perfect". That seriously only made me feel anger at my body. How could I reject a baby? If my baby was born with birth defects, God forbid, but I would not have loved him less.
That miscarriage has now been right at 10 years ago, and still the pain is there. Yes, it gets better, the everyday presence of deep pain wears off a bit, but the memory of that pregnancy does not. I think of my baby so very often. Even before my latest miscarriage, I found myself often thinking about how old Evan would be. I would picture myself the mother of a 9 year old boy. What would he be like? Would he love football like his Daddy does? Or would he like soccer to spite him? :o) I'll never know those answers, but I do rejoice in knowing that he has never felt pain, he's never suffered the heartbreak that this world brings. I can rejoice that I will one day meet my son, and spend eternity with him.
