It is no more.

Sometimes I wish I could take back what I say. Like my last post.

I just found out yesterday that we lost the baby. We went in for a third sonogram, and we saw nothing. Just last week we saw a baby with a heartbeat, but yesterday, nothing. The blood work came back with levels at 140. Not 3 gazillion, as it should have been.

It was a very difficult day for me. One filled with a variety of emotions, leading to a roller coaster ride of tears, heartbreak, love, laughter, sorrow. Tears, heartbreak and sorrow for the loss of this life that was once in me, and love and laughter for my son, who is such a blessed distraction right now.

Last week, I went to the doctor for a sonogram. I was spotting very lightly (which had started only that morning), but we saw the sac, the baby, the heart beat. The heart beat. It filled my heart with such joy and comfort. And within one hour, I started to bleed very heavily, with pain. I called my husband in a panic. Then my doctor, who asked me to come back in for another sonogram. We saw what appeared to be a tear ... in the placenta, I think. But we also saw the sac, the baby, and again, the heart beat. My fears were calmed. I was placed on bed rest and told not to worry, because women bleed all the time during pregnancy. Our church and family began sending up prayers. I made another appointment for yesterday.

Just this weekend, we had decided on names for the baby.

If it was a boy, he would be Preston Thomas. Actually, we were still working on the middle name, because Thomas is Hunter's middle name, but it's my dad's too, and we love it, and would have used it again. Preston means "dweller at the church" and Thomas was one of the 12 apostles known as "doubting Thomas" and had an unusual mixture of pessimism and zealous faith. Preston was also my husband's grandfather's name. Very southern, and very strong, too. We love it. And, although my husband's grandfather passed away while he was very young, we have heard many stories of how they were very, very close.

If it was a girl, she would have been Abigail. We were still deciding on her middle name, too ... but were leaning strongly towards Abigail Grace. The Hebrew meaning of Abigail is "A Father's joy." Abigail was also King David's 3rd wife, his most beloved, and most beautiful wife. And Grace means "favor, blessing. A virtue name referring to God's grace." My sister-in-law suggested that we could nick-name her Abbie-Grace, and I fell in love with it.

Each time I would sleep, I would dream of our two kids playing in the back yard, climbing trees, throwing the foot ball or kicking a soccer ball, playing red rover, and red light green light, playing tricks on each other, and hiding from each other.

Yesterday, though, those dreams ended. I felt such a swell of emotion and sorrow because my son may never know what its like to have a sibling that you can love so much, yet fight and bicker with, and turn around and beat up the person that dares to make fun of them. Not that I would encourage violence ... but ... well, you know.

I spent the morning and early afternoon crying my broken heart out, not wanting to talk to anyone, or see anyone other than my husband. In fact, not wanting to be more than an arms-length away from him. Then, after my in-laws dropped Hunter off from day care, I spent the afternoon and early evening laughing at his antics, his goofy behavior, his dancing and frolicking around and gesturing wildly with his arms while babbling as if he had something important to say and we needed to hear it. He eased the hurt in my heart, and Jesus affirmed in my heart what a miracle this precious little boy really is to us. I fell even more in love with him, if that's possible.

And late at night, once everyone fell asleep, I again found myself crying my heart out, thinking of what could have been. My husband woke up and tried to comfort me, but each time I closed my eyes, all I saw was the sonogram monitor with nothing on it. No sac. No baby. No heart beat. I finally went into the other room so I could read and wait until I was so exhausted that my eyes barely held open on their own, and as I walked back to my bed, I prayed that God would grant me a dreamless night. He did. But very early this morning, after my husband left to go to work, I found myself crying again. Even in my own pain, I can not fathom the pain a parent feels when they loose a child they have held in their arms, one they have nursed, played with, laughed with, and made plans for. My heart is filled with pain for each one of you.

I praise God for a strong, Godly husband. He loves me, he loves Hunter, and he is fiercely protective. I know he is hurting, too, but despite the pain I saw in his eyes yesterday, he did all he could to comfort me, and to protect me and just "be there" for me. He is my knight in shining armor!

I know in my heart that our child is in heaven, and that our Father has welcomed him or her into his loving arms, and watches over him or her as they play with their other brothers and sisters that have gone to heaven. But, it hurts, because I saw the heart beat. I connected. It was not "clinical," but rather, it was real. And I wanted that child in my own arms. But Christ knows the plans he has for our family. Plans to prosper us, and not harm us. Plans to give us hope and a future. So for now, as I muddle my way through this place I'm in, I turn my heart to Christ, with the full knowledge that he will see me through, he will heal my heart, and I will move on. He has the blueprint plan for our little family in the palm of his hands. He is all knowing, gracious, and loving. He is the balm to my brokenness, the soother of my sad soul. He will bring me joy and grace once again. He will. He is. And that's what I hold onto. Him.

He will carry me through.


"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)