My baby died Sept. 29, 2011. There is no other way to say that. Five years ago I sat in a doctor's office listening to the pronouncement of a life altering disease. Poly Cystic Ovarian. I was confused, as any other 20 year old girl would be, but the diagnosis was played off as no big deal.
The doctor said, "Just try to lose weight, and oh yeah... it may be harder to have kids one day. No big deal."
I cried for days. I wanted babies, and what man was ever going to marry me when I couldn't give them children? I read in Timothy how a woman would be made whole through childbirth, and I cried out to my Lord in confusion. His reply? "My way are not your ways. Trust Me." And trust I did.
I met Michael, and the night before we decided we should date, I reminded him of my disease. I could not give him children. That is what the doctor said. Michael in his "Michael ways" just shrugged his shoulders... "then we will adopt. I love you."
September happened, and things started to get crazy. I left our stove on for two days when we went on a weekend trip. I was moody, hurt everywhere, and got sick everytime I got into a car. I started to gain a little belly fat, and my period was no where to be seen. I had taken a few pregnancy tests since Michael and I got married, but this time, something was different. I knew it, I was pregnant. I bought two pregnancy tests on my way home from school Monday, Sept. 26, but I just needed the plus sign to convince people. I had already felt my baby inside of me. I felt her light shinning bright. I felt her soul. I knew she was there, and all the way to the store and all the way home, I prayed over my baby. I dedicated the baby, the miracle to the God that had created such a miracle. I spoke good things over my baby. I started thinking about better ways to take care of myself. 8-10 glasses of water, five fruits and vegtables. Little to no sugar.
I was a momma. I became a momma on Sept. 26, 2011. No matter what this world says. I was a momma.
I soon had the plus signs to prove it, and when Michael called me to ask if he could go hang out with some friends, I bit my tounge... though I really wanted to scream it to the earth. To make sure I hadn't gone crazy, I drove as fast as I could to my sister-in-laws house. She read the plus signs, got really excited, let me borrow what to expect when expecting, and talked to me about everything that is baby. It was really happening. I went to church, ran to wal-mart (yes, I even shopped at the most hated wal-mart), bought Michael a "Daddy's Girl" shirt, and I surprised Michael by meeting him somewhere in Conway. When I gave him the shirt, he asked me why I would buy something like that. I told him the tests read positive. The most amazing man I have ever met had tears in his eyes. He held me tightly and praised God for this miracle. He was already a beaming father. If we had had the chance to hold this child, my husband would have been one of the proudest fathers on the planet. We told some family members the following couple of days.
Michael kissed my tummy every night before sleep and every morning before work.
Though we were trying to wait until my first doctor's appointment to tell people... word got around quickly.
Thursday morning came. Sometimes I wished it hadn't. I woke up feeling good. No bloating, and I could get my eggs down. It was around 10am that I saw the blood spots. I got on the internet and researched all I could. I called my doctor and made an appointment for the next day to just make sure. The doctor's reassurance on the other side of the phone didn't help much. The blood continued to spot all day. Michael got home, and we took a walk to get our minds off of things. It is a strange thing when you know that something bad is about to happen, and you can not do anything about it. At 9:00pm, I called out to my husband from the bathroom. We needed to get to the ER fast. I felt my baby slipping away from me.
The next few hours are still a little of a blur. There was family, lots of family. There was prayer, lots of prayer. Tears, lots ot tears, and everyone in the ER that night heard, "God is good all the time." We told people. We texted them... "We are pregnant. We were waiting to tell people. There are now complications. We are headed to the ER. Please pray." My husband and I knew though. As we watched our family around us and my dear mother making up other possible explanations. We knew. After a couple of hours, we finally got back into the ER. Once again, we prayed over our baby. I looked at Michael and told him that I could not feel her anymore. We asked God to take good care of her and to tell her that we love her everyday. We told her to tell Jesus we said hello and that we would see her soon.
My baby died Sept. 29, 2011.
Lots of people have offered the best comfort, and I am so grateful and thankful for each and every person that has lifted a prayer, said an encouraging word, brought food, shared a smile or a laugh. My husband and I are doing fine... better than fine. We named her Hope Ann Bean. We bought her a willow tree statue to remember. Michael got a new job, finally! Life happens.
More than anything though.... I just want the WHOLE WORLD to know, that this was a baby. This fetus as it is called had a soul, and in the short time this precious child was on this earth, she brought God more glory than most people do in a life time. There are nights that I tell God I want my baby back, but I know that He is still trust worthy. I cry out to you world, acknowledge a life when it becomes a life!!!! I cry out to you world, see children as a reward!!! They are not a curse, but they are a blessing. Christians... stand up! Walk in the Spirit and tell the world! What we are committing is murder.
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