I don’t really think there’s an eloquent way to break bad news: We have welcomed and lost another baby. Yep. Ugh.
Today I painted my toenails in hopes of hanging on to some shred of dignity. I also took a shower, which is a big deal on days like this. I did nothing to my hair, though, which means it’s a wavy, floppy mess. I’m wearing no makeup, since it would just end up in a salty smear on my pillowcase at some point today. I’m swollen in the middle, far beyond my waist’s usual boundaries, as evidence that my body has been denying the reality of the baby’s death for a few weeks now. My stretchy shorts are a little, uh, unflatteringly stretched. I think about those verses in Psalms about being like a brute beast before the Lord on days like this. I’m glad my toenails look good.
Grief is funny, because even if I don’t think I’m overwhelmingly sad, unloading the dishwasher still seems like a task requiring significant emotional stamina. (At least I have a dishwasher, though. The hand-washing stage of the kitchen remodel was particularly difficult for our marriage.)
This side patio I’m sitting on has caught a lot of tears for a lot of babies over the years.
In my experience, the first trimester of pregnancy would be nothing to complain about if you get an actual baby out of it eventually, but when you don’t, it’s really annoying. I was so excited about coffee tasting good again that I drank two pots this morning. Now I’m agitated and shaky. It doesn’t help that I’m anxious about the possibility of needing a minor surgery during the course of this process. That’s pretty common, but letting the body proceed naturally, as has been my experience twice already, is far preferable. I don’t want to ignore the fact that this is hard work for the body, not just the heart. There is very little dignity in eating cottage cheese (protein!) out of the container and baby spinach (iron!) out of the bag for lunch like I did, but I think that’s the best fuel I can give myself. And really… if I use a plate, I’ll just end up putting it in the dishwasher and then having to put it away in the future. It’s probably best to save my strength.
No matter what difficulty comes, there are always gifts — and this is the one I’m really grateful for right now: Some girls I’ve been best friends with for eight years are visiting in a few days. These are the sort of friends who won’t care if I don’t clean the bathroom due to crying jags or impulsive crafting, and will bring fancy cheeses and wine and kleenex. It’s humbling and scary and wondrous that the cross-country road trip they scheduled before the baby existed is turning out to be a perfectly timed expression of God’s care and love, almost like it was planned that way. They will probably need to vacuum the guest room and put together the air bed upon their arrival because I can’t really see myself summoning the strength to take care of that.
But, like I said, I painted my toenails. So at least I’ve got something pulled together.
[What can you do? What do you say to someone who just had a miscarriage? I’ve written about it before, so mostly… if you want to say anything, just tell us you are sorry, that you love us, and that it’s okay with you if this is a big deal for a long time. And please remember, if you want to say something about the future or some divine purpose in this, that God does not owe me a baby or an explanation. You do not have the power to promise that I will get either one. I’m sure I’ll share more about that later when some of the shock and hormonal rush wears off, too!]
abby hummel 
So much love, Abby. I’ll forever be grateful for your example of how to be a loving mama to babies we can’t hold. We’ll be praying for peace for your family.
We love your family and keep you in our prayers, as well. xoxo.
I love you — we are still trying to determine when we can come to remodel. If you want me to come just for comfort, say the word and I will be there.
Mom
…what if I told you remodeling would be very comforting?? 😉 We love you!
oh abby, i am devastated and heartbroken with you. hugs and tears and prayers.
I am so sorry. Grieving with you. Love you dearly. Am so moved by the transparency of your life and heart.
I’m so sorry. 😦 It IS a big deal and it hurts long and hard. (((hugs))) I just want to run right over and wrap you in a huge hug and let you cry on my shoulder.
This is a big deal. I am really sorry, Abby. Praying for you and your family.
Abby, I’m so sorry! I’m grieving with you as I remember the baby we lost.
I do want to say that it was wonderful to see you at the wedding and your presentation of the gospel was amazing and encouraging. Keep pressing on toward the goal . . .
Oh, thanks. 🙂 I kept forgetting about a toast and I was nervous because Naomi’s was so well-coordinated, but I think it turned out OK.
And it’s so common to lose one, isn’t it? I hope we can open up conversation and make it a little easier for everyone to live a consistent witness to the value and worth of life beginning at conception. If a life is worth saving when a mom is hurting and confused in an unplanned pregnancy, it’s worth grieving when a baby is lost under any circumstances, too. Blessings to you all tonight!
Dear Abby and Aaron,
Thank you for giving us some insight into your feelings all the time, but definitely now too. Yes, we are so sorry. And we pray that you can recover physically and mentally from another such devastating blow. Sharing as you do has to be a positive as does being with those you love and trust. I think I have been evolving as a companion and caretaker of Grandpa – hopefully into a better one. I have learned from mistakes that have had difficult results. I once let irritation develop into a full temper blast. When it was over, my reaction was that I will NEVER do that again. I bring this up because, I have never faced what you have, but I have been to emotional brinks. Maybe as you weather this last grief, you can look at how you dealt with it before and will be able to improve on your survival techniques. May God be with you both. Much love, G & G Cheney
Oh yes, God is so good to teach us. We are definitely better equipped to face things now compared to the first time, three years ago. Not that the passage of time it makes it easier or matter less, but we certainly have learned many special lessons about grief, sin, and God’s comfort in the meantime. We love you and we are so thankful for your example of faithful love and grace throughout your life. Thanks for sharing your thoughts here, Grandma!
Love, Abby (and Aaron.)
We are so blessed with such a rich community of encouragement… Special thanks to each of you for sharing your love and comfort!
I’m so sorry, Abby. I don’t know you, but I’m crying with you tonight and praying God wraps you in comfort.
Thanks for stopping by to share in the sorrow and comfort. God bless you!
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Prayers…for whatever you need.
Abby, I am so sorry. I came over from Anna’s blog and have just spent a few minutes reading some of your posts. I will certainly be keeping you in my prayers. I don’t want to come off like a pretentious stranger, but I also wanted to share this website with you in case you don’t otherwise know of it:
http://www.naprotechnology.com/
I have known several young ladies who were finally able to carry babies to term under the care of a NaPro trained doctor. I don’t know if you know the cause of these miscarriages or how you feel about your current medical care, but I spread the word about this whenever it seems appropriate as I have seen miracles happen, and certainly it would be wonderful if God would deem it fit to grant one to you! With many prayers and much heartbreak for you…
Thanks so much for your care and stopping by! I am 100% in line with those religious and philosophical understandings of everything, and there is a NaPro doctor an hour away, so it’s definitely on the list of things to consider. (I’d probably be happier in their care, but my current doctors are OK and they are practically around the corner… though to have a doctor who respects life and marriage close enough to even consider visiting seems like such a gift, too! ugh! so much to pray about at this stage!) Blessings to you!
Reading your articulate, honest post brought back a flood of memories from 36 years ago when I miscarried at 14 weeks. It is (was) so difficult. Thank you for your discipline in writing even if the dishwasher doesn’t get unloaded.
Mmm, Sue, so sorry about the loss of your baby. I only have three years of experience to draw on, and it seems like the sting fades a bit and sometimes there is a growth in perspective which brings some peace to the grief, but there is nothing that makes going through it hurt any less. I expect I will still feel this way in, yes, even 36 years. Blessings to you and your family!
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