Three days ago my world fell apart. I rushed home from work to spend my evening trapped in the bathroom. I knew what it was. I had had this feeling twice before. But still I kept telling myself everything was fine, it was just a little spotting. Lots of pregnant women have spotting in the first trimester, some even throughout their entire pregnancy; in my moments of doubt I had read all about it online. No one ever posted anything but reassurances for women who were worried about it. And for me it turned to be a false hope. A little spotting for me became another miscarriage. In a little less than a year, my third one in a row.
It crushed me. I have no other words to convey the depth of my feeling.
I know being a mother is hard. I know that with the sweet innocence of babies and childhood there are times when you feel like pulling your hair out, its all so frustrating. The sleepless nights, the screaming kids, always cleaning someone else's mess. But I want it. The good, the bad, the ugly, the sweet. I want that joy of being a mother in my life.
And poor Rial, standing helplessly by as his wife, who he loves more than anything, sobs and cries for motherhood, which is once more snatched away, becoming as unobtainable as the sun in the dead of night.
This wasn't supposed to happen. With the world full of positive pregnancy tests that bring tears of sorrow instead of joy, why must a couple such as us be denied? Why did we have to be that 1% of people to have initially miscarried 3 times in a row? We worked so hard. Bought a house. Fixed it up. All so we could raise a family in it. Our careful plan has gone awry and I feel like we missed a turn. What more could we have done? I wish I had the Lord's vision. I wish I could see the good that he must see in this. But I can't. Though the other night I did get close.
It is so great the good reading scriptures, praying and priesthood blessing can do. I do not know why this has to happen to us. But I feel peace in knowing there is a reason and we shall benefit from it in the end. I still do not like it, but I am okay with it as I know it is in His hands and He has promised us with children.
The diagnosis: recurrent miscarriage. The prognosis: hopefully we'll know when we save up enough money to see the specialist (we are done being slave to the lender). In the meantime, I have been given hope by the one sure source and with my good husband, we will carry on.