Our Miracle Girl (Part 5)

Eleven weeks and four days gestation. That was the calculation of our baby's age at death (the day of the sonogram) according to our doctor's originally stated due date, which is merely an educated guess, yet the one used in determining whether or not a death certificate would be issued. But at twelve weeks, a death certificate was not only available, but required. The irony of such loose definitions would play a big part in my hesitations to heal. We asked the state if the doctor could amend his due date if medical calculations proved I COULD be due just three days later. The answer was "no."

If I had ever had iffy thoughts before on my feelings about abortion, I sure found it demoralizing now that the only difference between an abortion or murder, legally at least, was who had wanted the child not to exist anymore. And it deeply hurt that only three days determined the difference between a mass of tissue enveloped within a womb or a recognized child with a legal name. (But I also learned through this very experience that you don't REALLY know how you are going to feel in a situation unless you live it for yourself! Therefore my compassion for those who have made this choice in their past became much more real. I am so proud of the years of work my mom has done in helping young girls in this situation. I can understand how those without help are also without hope.) I determined right then that we would name our child. God had already worked out the details. Whether this child was to be a boy or a girl, the name "Jordan" was on the short list either way. I felt it particularly reassuring that He had already known what would happen and provided a name that we would have really used.

A good friend of mine found out within just days of my own news that she too had lost her precious pre-born bundle of joy. She was five months along, and the baby was already too big to expel naturally so she was scheduled for a C-section. We leaned on each other a lot and I was SO THANKFUL to God for giving me someone who understood what I was going through in the very moment. The funny thing was, we each thought the other had it worse. She would have to go in for delivery and anticipate the very moment it would happen right up until the scheduled point. She would have to look upon her infant's death and stare her in the face. She would have to grieve in front of family and friends who also needed to be there. But however difficult these things were going to be, she was also glad to have them. And I was both relieved and yet sad that I would not.

I would not get to know what my baby looked like or whether it was our son or a daughter. There would be no memorial service to celebrate the life, however short, of this newest member of our family. And worst of all, I would be "burying" this amazing child, not by choice, in the same manner as some who choose not to honor their precious heritage - in a bathroom - alone.

Friends sent their condolences or called to stop by and one sweet lady I barely knew until then still thought to send meals for a week, but several thought of my absence from normal activity as no more than they would my having a minor illness like a cold or the flu. In a lot of ways, it seems like a was expected to immediately "carry on" because "it's not like I got to KNOW the baby" before it died.

But others understood FAR MORE than I ever realized. When I returned to church two Sundays later, several of our women came up to me privately to reveal that they too understood the pain of a miscarriage and that they would be praying for me. Because they had been there before, they seemed to instinctively know when I would need to talk and when total silence was the best medicine. I found out in those dark days that EVERYONE has struggles that are unknown to the outside world, and we should approach everyone, especially those who are the gruffest with us, as ones who are wounded and hurting. And I realized that tragedy can be a gift in that it presents an opportunity for people you never knew cared so much to tell you so.......