I Took It In Stride

Since we imagined this would be our last baby, Benjamin started taking pictures of my belly every week, chronicling the growth. Although we noticed the baby seemed small compared to the others, it didn’t worry me at all. Then I experienced some spotting. Not one to panic, I took it in stride. I figured we’d wait things out. And with Benjamin in full football mode, I had my hands full at home. Still, something told me to reach out to our midwife in Ohio. She’d delivered three of our babies, and she knew me well. So I told her what was going on and asked her opinion. She recommended I go ahead and find a doctor. If nothing else, go in and get your blood levels tested, she said. We didn’t have any close friends in Baltimore yet.

Come And Get It

Who would I ask for a doctor recommendation? Then I remembered a young mom I’d met recently. I didn’t give any details. I just said, Can I have the name of the doctor who delivered your baby? She gave me his name. It was a group practice and I couldn’t get the doctor she’d mentioned, so I took whoever was available. This was a decision I later came to regret. Maybe things would have been different if Benjamin could have come with me. But I didn’t have a sitter, so I scheduled an appointment on Tuesday, Benjamin’s only day off, so he could stay home with the kids. After the doctor got a brief history and my vitals, he said, It doesn’t look to me like you’re pregnant. That’s literally what he said. I didn’t know whether to punch him in the face or burst out crying. I was like, Excuse me, sir, I know my body. As if I hadn’t already carried five kids to term.

A Fool No More

He said, Let’s just get your blood levels taken to make sure. Wait, what? I hadn’t thought this through. I’m terrified of needles. And I didn’t want any part of this. But what else could I do? I’m sorry, ma’am, but I will pass out on you, I said to the woman drawing my blood. Are you really good? I pretty much always ask that question in a lighthearted way, but this time I was spinning out. Oh, I’m good, baby, she said, I’ve been doing this for so long. She started making small talk, trying to get me to not think about that needle. Her compassion went right to my heart, and I started crying. I told her everything. I think I’m losing my baby, I said. She caught all my feelings from what had just happened with the doctor.

The Beat Of Your Drum

And she was such a comfort. I’ll never forget how she met me right where I was and listened with compassion and kindness. You’re pregnant, he said. I wanted to say, No kidding, dummy! He told me I needed to come in for an ultrasound. Who has time for this? I promised that when we got back from Virginia, where Benjamin was giving a convocation address at Liberty University, I absolutely would. Our plan was to take the whole family to Virginia since it was just a couple of hours away and it was a bye week. But the doctor insisted I get the ultrasound that very afternoon. Okay, fine, I thought. I remember sitting on our couch in Baltimore. My appointment was in two hours, and the kids were upstairs with Benjamin. Ultimately this baby is for you, so whatever is going to happen, prepare me for it. Help me to be strong through this. In that moment, I instantly felt lighter in my belly, like something had been removed. It sounds strange, I know, but I just knew the baby was gone. I went upstairs to tell Benjamin what had happened. He wrapped me in a hug. He grieved with me and comforted me. He prayed with me before I went to the ultrasound later that day. Again I went by myself. I watched the technician’s face as she looked at the monitor. I don’t see anything there but the sack, she said. There’s not a baby in there. What could I say? She was telling me what I already knew. Why would I even care what he said? He’d insisted I wasn’t pregnant when I knew I was, then he’d declared I was and yet now I wasn’t. His assessment was meaningless to me. Then he said something that did matter. You’ll still go into labor in the next week or so. It could happen anytime, so be prepared. On top of everything else, there’s this to lookforward to? I get to pack us all up for a trip where I’ll be a supportive wife to Benjamin and a mom to all these people, and at some unknown place and time, my body will go into excruciating labor but there will be no baby. It was all too absurd. I decided to leave that office and carry on. That was the extent of my ability to deal with the news he’d given me. At Liberty University, they really rolled out the red carpet. Benjamin did a great job, and I felt proud of and happy for him, even through the cloud of the loss. The next day we got in the car to return to Baltimore. We’d barely left when I was hit by intense pain. We pulled over to the side of the road, and Benjamin called David Nasser, the Liberty campus chaplain. David told us how to get to the best, closest hospital. While I went in, Benjamin stayed in the Suburban with the kids. He put in a movie to keep them busy. I will never forget the kindness they showed us when we needed it. We really didn’t have community in place yet to navigate such a rocky issue in Baltimore. My pain subsided, and although I’d lost a lot of blood, the sac was still intact.