Over the last few days, the experience of my last miscarriage keeps going around and around in my head. Sometimes I panic when I think of labor because the last time I labored there were two dead babies inside of me. I don't fear physical pain, I fear the memories of what Pain has done to my body in the past, what Pain has meant.  I realized that I've never written my story of struggle as it happened. It would bring me healing to share that story but the story is difficult for me to tell. When I think about it, my eyes begin to glisten; I cannot talk about the details without shedding tears. I don't know if anyone wants to read this story so I write if for myself and for my unborn children. I write it for the women out there who's arms are still empty and cold. Women who's hearts wander alone through an emotional cave of grief. I can never forget.

My story begins with a setting that I never thought I would find myself in. It was the first time that I was apart from my husband who I was ridiculously dependent one. I felt as though I was hyperventilating without him, but I was doing my best to keep it together for the life that was growing inside of me. When my husband shipped off to boot camp, I flew to Idaho to stay with my family. A week after I got there, my dad had one of his random angry tirades. He has bipolar and schizophrenia disorders but he won't see a doctor and get help. Anything and anyone can set him off at anytime. Somehow, I was that person this time.

As he was yelling at me, my mom started crying and begged him to stop. She said, "Our daughter is pregnant and we're supposed to be taking care of her." He looked at me and said, "I don't care." He didn't see that I was 13 weeks pregnant and shivering in the cold where we were standing. He didn't see the deep circles under my eyes from when I had cried myself to sleep every night that week. He only saw that I was a person of threat to him, somehow. I was a mess. I felt like I was in a nightmare. I told him I could just leave if he wanted me to and he told me I should. My brother didn't trust my dad and he was afraid that I was in danger to stay there. The next day we left.

In the hour of my dad's tirade, I missed Loren's first phone call. I listened to the voicemail message over and over again. My cousin and his wife invited my brother and I to come stay with them while we figured out what to do. I tried to stop crying myself to sleep at night. I told myself that I had to be strong and I was. I turned every thought toward my baby, the precious part of my love that I had with me. Over two weeks after I seen him last, I got another phone call from Loren. It was three minutes long and his voice was so different. He didn't sound like himself and I worried myself sick about him. I prayed for him because it was all I could do and I wrote long letters every single day.

I also prayed for my baby constantly. I spent hours daydreaming about her, because I was sure she was a girl, of how I would decorate her nursery, of how large and pregnant I would be by the next time I would get to see Loren again, and how much we would love on our baby... I wrote about my dreams to Loren and told him how much we loved him. When I was 15 weeks pregnant, I felt the first flutter of movement. I was amazed. I was so in love. As I relaxed my body and felt the tickling flutter of my baby, I felt as though arms were wrapped around me. I was warm. I was loved.

I decided to visit another cousin of mine who was moving. My plan was to help her and spend some time with her. I was 16 weeks pregnant and I still had not seen a doctor. We literally had only forty dollars left in our bank account. I was still waiting to get my military ID and get enrolled with the military health insurance, TriCare. At the time I was already automatically covered but I didn't know it. Since my cousin was married to a Seaman, she lived close to a military base that would provide the things that I knew I needed.

Day One

I got to my cousin's apartment on Valentine's Day. Sometime that day I went to the bathroom and wiped away some brown discharge. I was immediately concerned but since there were no signs of red or pink spotting, I tried not to get to worried. I had had some brown discharge earlier in the pregnancy but it had only lasted a few days before it went away. That week I'd also been having cramps. They didn't feel right. I kept consoling myself that I was past the danger zone of the first twelve weeks. The thought that I might lose this pregnancy wasn't an option. I knew it would be more than I could bare. I wouldn't think of it. I knew everything would be okay. That night I opened the Valentine's package that Loren had put together for me before he left. I cried as I held his card, tracing the handwritten lines. How I wished that I could just talk to him, to hear his voice.

Day Two

The next day, my cousin stayed at her new house to put things away while I went with a couple others to clean her old apartment. I started having harder cramps so I chose the easier jobs of cleaning the windows and blinds. As I mindlessly wiped away the streaks left on the window panes, I wondered what was happening to me. I couldn't ignore the cramps I was having. But I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to go to.

Later, that same afternoon, I went to the bathroom again. My cramps had stopped and I was relieved. But when I wiped myself, the toilet paper came away with a bright streak of red blood on it. I started shaking. I stumbled into the living room and choked, "I'm bleeding." I don't remember what anyone said. I didn't see anyone's faces. All I saw was the red blood on that toilet paper and a million dreams threatening to shatter. Someone made me lay down. In my mind I was thinking about all the times that I prayed that Jesus would protect this baby and hold it in his arms. Was this the best thing, for Jesus to hold my baby right now?

If only I could talk to my husband. But what would I tell him? His dreams were just as much wrapped up in this child as mine were. Suddenly my cell phone started ringing. I answered the strange looking number to hear his voice on the other line. This was like a miracle! I needed so much to hear his voice. He only had minutes so I told him that I was having some spotting. His reaction was the same as mine was. Surely we could not be losing another pregnancy, not now. We bravely said good-bye. He would try to call back in the morning and check on me but he couldn't promise anything. His drill sergeant was pushing his flight to graduate as an Honor Flight, therefore he very rarely got to call. He still had not been able to slip any letters off to me, even though he wrote them whenever he could and hid them.

That night I bleed some more and my cramps had turned into painful contractions. My cousin and my brother took me to the ER. I was in a daze as they drew blood and checked my progesterone levels. The bright lights of the small hospital room burned my throbbing eyes. I shivered. I was so cold. I had to drink several large glasses of water before they wheeled me to a darker room to get a sonogram. When I asked to see the screen, the tech reluctantly tilted it toward me. I still couldn't really see it and none of it made sense. When I asked what was going on, she told me that she would need to show the doctor what she found and he would tell me the results.

I was wheeled back to the cold, bright room where I waited. It seemed like an eternity. I couldn't focus on anything. At last, a smaller Indian man came into the room. He was kind. Yes, he told me, I was having a miscarriage. But, he said, there was something else. It looked like there were two babies in my uterus. One baby had died probably a week ago. They couldn't quite be sure but the other baby was possibly going to make it if I managed to pass the dead baby.

Day Three

The next day I told Loren that I was miscarrying but that I had two babies, twins, and one baby might still be okay. We couldn't be sure. Around noon, I started having contractions. I laid on the couch and lasted through them, one at a time. I felt so numb. The pain was so surreal as it grasped me and let me go, again and again.

My cousin sat down by the coffee table in front of the couch where I was lying. She was well into her second pregnancy, although I can't remember exactly how far along she was. I couldn't really focus on what she was saying until she began to cry. "I'm so afraid that I'm going to lose my baby," She said. My brother went to her and put his arms around her as she wept. I wanted to cry. I wanted to but I couldn't. As I watched my cousin weeping in front of me, I looked at her full abdomen and tried to pray for her baby. I felt like a burden because I was making her fear for the life of her baby. I felt like I was Death, sitting on my cousin's couch.

That evening, everyone went to bed. I stayed at my spot on the living room couch. The contractions were on the heel of each other now. I remember looking at the time and seeing that it was 9:00 PM. I curled up into a ball as the pains began to rage on me. I was twisted, squeezed so hard I could not catch my breath. Before I could breathe again another contraction gripped me. Mentally I counted numbers as a contraction would come but by the time I got past seventy, I lost my focus. When it passed, I couldn't count past thirty before another pain began sweeping over me. Hour after hour the contractions persisted, violent, nightmarish. I remember little from this time. I knew that my body needed to pass a dead baby and I clung to the hope that my second baby would be okay. I endured because it was the only thing to do. In the darkness I labored, sometimes moaning. Alone.

Day Four

After five hours, at two o'clock in the morning, the contractions were starting to lessen when I got up to go to the bathroom. I only took a few steps before I felt a warm gush. I grabbed myself and made my way to the bathroom as quickly as I could, all the while feeling the warm gushes. I sat down on the toilet and I was alarmed at the amount of blood that I was seeing. I woke up my brother and told him I was bleeding a lot. He sat up and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. I went to the bathroom again and as I stood there, several large clots fell around my ankles. My brother came to the door to check on me. I looked up at him just as he saw the blood pooled around my feet. His eyes panicked.

My brother was quick to wake up my cousin. They got some towels to put on the couch so I could lay back down. Every part of me ached. I felt so weak and cold so I asked for extra blankets. I started shivering and I couldn't stop. I just wanted to sleep. My cousin decided to call 911. When she was on the phone, she started asking me questions. When I couldn't remember my birthday, it wasn't long before an ambulance was on it's way.

Soon there were big men around me, lifting me onto a stretcher. I felt the stretcher shaking and I wondered why. Then I realized that it was me who was shaking. I shook and shook uncontrollably. I tried to focus on the kind man's face who was leaning over me. I tried to remember everything he was asking me. There were so many questions but his voice was so comforting. I was so cold. My teeth chattered as I tried to talk to him. I was so tired of the cold.

My brother came to see me behind the white curtains where I lay in the ER. I cried when I saw him. He grabbed my hands and held them tight while he tried to comfort me. His hands felt so warm and strong. He leaned down to hug me. He felt so big and warm. "Mike, could you call mom and ask her to come? I need my mom." I choked. I was afraid of crying because I was afraid the tears would never end but they were coming now without my permission.

"I already talked to her," he said. "I told her that she needs to come. My phone is ringing off the hook. Everyone wants to know how you're doing and I'm trying to answer their questions." Mike looked so young standing there but as he talked to me he squared his shoulders. "I'll take care of you, Meg."

Before Mike left my side, he tried to make a joke about the catheter bag that was hanging by the side of my bed. He wondered how it worked and he said that it sounded painful. I shook my head. I hardly even remembered when the nurse put it in me. I feel asleep when he left. Soon my mom would be here and she would be able to take care of me. The thought of having my mom close brought a feeling of warmth over me.

I woke up when Mike was standing over me again. He took my hand and squeezed it. I asked him what time it was but I forgot the time as soon as it left his lips. Time was running together and stretching into an eternity."When is mom coming," I asked him. I searched his face when he hesitated.

"Meg." He squeezed my hand. Harder this time. "Mom's not coming. Dad won't let her come."

I didn't understand. A painful wave washed over me and I felt like the darkness was closing in. "Mom's not coming? Why?"

He shook his head. His eyes were filled with pain.

I was numb. I was in pain. I was cold again. I held on to Mike's hand as I started shaking again, this time from deep sobs that started to roll over me. "Mike, I need mom. I can't do this without her. I need somebody. Please get me somebody. I can't do this anymore. Please Mike, isn't there anything we can do?"

He was crying with me now. "Meg, I'm so sorry." I closed my eyes. I wanted to let the darkness take me. The darkness would be so easy, so painless.

In the meantime, my Grandma heard that my dad wasn't letting my mom come the eight hours to be with me. Shortly afterwards, the phone rang at my parents house. After a few minutes on the phone, my dad hung up and told my mom, "I'm going to take a shower. Get ready so that we can leave soon." When Mike came and told me that my mom was coming after all, I cried with relief. I could get through the next few hours, knowing that my mom was coming.

Another ultrasound confirmed that both of my babies were dead. My progesterone levels had also dropped. Several nurses gathered around my bed with the doctor. The doctor said the that only thing left to do was to perform a D&C. I had gotten the advice from several other people to refuse a D&C at all costs so I did. The doctor gently said to me that eventually a D&C would be necessary to save my life, but that he would release me to go home and try to pass the dead bodies of my babies on my own. I knew that my babies were dead but now I wanted to see them and bury them properly. I cried as I thought about how tiny and perfect they would be.

Soon after we got home, my mom arrived. When her soft, warm arms wrapped around me, I collapsed a little on the inside. Moments later my cell phone was ringing again and it was Loren. We talked for an incredible length of 15 minutes. I worked so hard to sound strong on the phone. We discussed the possibility of him coming to be with me but the chances seemed slim to none. I got directions for calling the Red Cross so that they could talk to my doctor at the hospital and get a recommendation for Loren's training instructor to send him home. That night I slept fitfully. Pain medication dulled the pain in my body.

Day Five

The hours passed. I was waiting for something more to happen. I slept and drank fluids. I talked to folks at  the Red Cross. The doctor at the hospital told me that he had talked to them as well and told them that I needed to have my husband here. I didn't dare hope. I talked to Loren again on the phone. He was going crazy being so far away from me. I told him not to worry about me but I knew that he would anyway. We needed each other desperately. It was difficult to talk about the babies. We both choked up when I told him that I wanted to find a beautiful place to bury them.

Another day melted into evening. Mike kept taking all of the phone calls that were coming in. When everything had first started happening, I talked to two of my friends. One of them made a comment to me that things happen to us because of choices that we make. She didn't support our decision to enlist in the military because she held onto passivist beliefs. Therefore, she seemed to feel that this was happening to me because of a wrong choice that we had made.

The other friend made another cutting judgement. She said, "Someday you won't let stress ruin your life." The comments were flippant and cold. To this day I still talk to both of these friends and I don't think they remember making these statements to me. I've never told them how detrimental they were when I needed them the most.

Day Six

My cell phone rang early. It was Loren again. He had a plan this time. He told me that if I were to need surgery, he would be able to come see me. He told me that I needed to go back to the hospital and schedule a D&C and then notify the Red Cross so that they could make traveling arrangements.

I was only getting weaker and I was still bleeding without passing anything. I was feeling faint and I started shaking if I sat up for any length of time. My cousin took us to the Navy hospital where they admitted me quickly. The nurses called the Red Cross. After another sonogram, I was being wheeled to the OB department. I waited in a waiting room full of pregnant women and mothers carrying brand new babies around in their carseats. I felt so numb. My head was spinning. I looked down at my arms laying laying listless and empty on my lap. This was all too real. I was alone. My babies were never going to be in my arms; warm, alive and smiling up at me.

When I was wheeled into an examining room, I sat on a tall chair and placed my feet in the available stirrups. I was used to having my feet in cold, metal stirrups by now. My mom sat next to me and held my hand. Soon after the doctor checked me, he stepped out for a moment. I had been trying so hard to focus but now the room started to spin in front of me. "Mom," I said. "I'm dizzy." I felt like I was going to fall out of the chair. My mom saw that I was going to pass out so she opened the door and yelled for a nurse.

My levels had dropped dangerously low. Before I knew it, I was on a stetcher, rolling through a large room filled with curtained off spaces. They pulled me into one of these spaces and started prepping me for surgery. Originally they planned to perform my surgery at two o'clock that afternoon but since my levels had dropped and I was passing in and out, they needed to do it as soon as possible. Most of my nurses had medical battlefield experience so they were very gentle as they handled me. One of my nurses teared up as my mom told her my story. They all squeezed my hand and told me that they hoped my husband would be able to come. I only nodded. The thought of seeing Loren was what was keeping me together for those next few hours.

It took me a long time to come out of recovery. I remember bits and pieces of the nurses trying to wake me up to ask me how I was feeling. I didn't want to ever wake up. Finally I started to wake up in the dim lighting of my hospital room. I heard my mom and my brother talking quietly to each other. When my mom saw my eyes open, she asked me how I was feeling. "The doctor's been here quite a few times to check on you. He said you lost a lot of blood and he's really worried about you. He's such a nice doctor," she added. 

"When is Loren going to get here?" I asked. I knew the answer before they told me because it was written all over their faces.

"I'm so sorry, Meg." Mom felt awful to tell me. Loren had called and since they performed an emergency surgery, he wasn't going to be to come. He was devastated. "He made sure that we would get you flowers and something special since he can't be here."

Getting this news was the ultimate blow. I felt so cheated. I had made it through this day on the thread of hope that I would have my husband's strong arms around me at the end it it. I was not able to give a proper good-bye to our tiny babies. They had been scrapped from my body and discarded. Of course, at the time I didn't even let myself think of what happened to them. Today I still cry, every single time I think of it. It's so hard to write about it now.

Even though I felt weak, cheated, and completely alone, God was carrying me through the pain. I felt his arms at the bottom, when I didn't think I could go on anymore.

That evening, my cousin told me that she couldn't handle my being there anymore. Her husband was also gone. He was on a year long deployment and she was trying to cope with her little girl and another baby on the way. I wasn't sure where I would go next. I was so weak that I couldn't write my own name. I was supposed to stay on bed rest for at least a week. I felt as though I was a burden to everyone around me and finally the reality of it all came crashing in on me. After everyone went to bed, my mom held me in her arms as I finally wept. My heart, my dreams, and my hopes were crushed in a thousand pieces and I couldn't hold my emotions together any more.

Two days later I was back at my other cousin's house. I was able to stay in a spacious space in their basement. I needed to figure out where I was going to go for the rest of the time that Loren would be away. A week after my D&C, I came down with a high fever and a cough that lasted a week long. I was so sick and weak. When I went to Loren's basic graduation in Texas, I was still throwing up every morning because I couldn't keep anything down when I would first try to eat or drink. My clothes hung on me. I had to go out and buy jeans that would fit and I bought two sizes smaller than my pre-pregnancy fit.

The time that I had with Loren was short. I only got to see him for three days at allotted times during the day. Neither of us felt like ourselves. The last six weeks had done so much to change us forever. Loren was so skinny too. He walked and talked different and he seemed so stiff all the time. I cried myself to sleep each night after he had to go back to his dorms. I told my mom that I didn't think I could live through another day. I wanted my old husband back, I wanted to fall asleep in his strong arms, I wanted us to cry together over over the loss of our babies.

I left Texas and decided to spend the next few months traveling. We had sold our house in Colorado so I really didn't have anywhere to go. I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid of quietness. I didn't know how I would cope with my grief and all of my other responsibilities with Loren being gone. Thankfully, we were able to talk on the phone a lot more, usually every day. The first two weeks that he was in Tech School were the hardest on me. He found out that he could be there anywhere from three months to eight months. Not knowing how long it would be until I saw him again killed me.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into the hardest year of my life. I had a lot of anxiety attacks and nightmares. Many times my nightmares were simply the feeling that warm blood was gushing out of me. My most memorable nightmare was one night when I was dreaming that I was bleeding again. I tried desperately to wake up, but when I did I looked down and saw that my feet were covered in blood. The walls were covered in blood and the ceiling dripped with red blood. When I shook Loren to wake up and help me, my hands were red with blood. I started sobbing for someone to help me.

I knew that it would be hard to write my story but I never guessed how hard it would be. I started writing a few days ago but I haven't always been able to get very far. Sometimes I have had a hard time letting myself remember the details because I cannot stop crying when they come back to me. I don't know why I needed to write this. I felt so compelled to write down my story as it happened. I had a total of three miscarriages, but this one was by far the most traumatic. I miss my babies so much today, all four of them. I hold them forever in my heart.

The baby inside of me now is a beautiful promise full of life and hope and healing. I treasure each and every day that I have with her. The most beautiful thing is to watch her wrapping her daddy around her fingers. He's so in love with her. She's already the center of his whole world. A future writing endeavor will be about the special bond that they have... I know it's going to be another tear jerker to write about it. But the tears are going to leave me feeling full instead of empty.

Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment at 8:45 AM in Kansas City so I got up early to go to that with my husband and our Doula. The plan was for me to get induced if I was dilated enough and I was sure that I had to be dilated. The day before, I felt like I would cry all day if I didn't end up having this baby. It's funny. I don't expect other people to have their babies before their due dates but when it comes to me, I am begging to go early. I know you other moms understand! When I wasn't dilated and we left to go home, I didn't feel upset. I was disappointed but I certainly didn't feel like crying. My instinct stepped in and told me that its not time and I was okay with that.

I had so much energy yesterday. When I got home I scrubbed my kitchen. I put laundry away and started on several projects. I finished painted a few things since it was such a nice day outside and I could paint outdoors. I painted a shelf for the nursery and the letters of Emma's name that are going to hang from the knobs on the shelf. I can't wait to put it up today and take pictures of the finished nursery. It's so darling. I also painted a sign and a bench that I'm re-upholstering for a friend of mine.

Last night a few of my friends came over. Martin was working and I didn't want to sit at home thinking about wanting to go into labor. We made fudge and pizza and then we went to another's friends house. When I got home, my neighbors were all sitting outside roasting marshmellows so I went over there for a while. Today I'm hanging out with my girlfriends again. It's so nice to have things to do as these last days pass by.

Maybe I'll post some pictures later today. I hope everyone has a great weekend! I think I should share some hot chocolate and snuggles with my sweetheart.