Unraveled...

There are many dates that have an important significance to us. April 17th - our anniversary. January 21st, August 14th, and September 12th - our birthdays. Earlier this year, we added another date to that list - May 18th. What happened on May 18th, you ask? Unfortunately, unlike the other dates that I listed, May 18th is not remembered with smiles and happy memories. May 18th is a day that will always be remembered with sadness. This is the day we found out that we had lost our second baby.

You may remember from some of my posts in May that Carey and I had some difficult times that we were facing, and, at the time, I didn't want to go into detail about it. As I sit here today, October 15th, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, I realize that I would like to share our story.

At the end of 2009, Carey and I decided that we would like to have another baby. We decided to wait until the start of the new year to begin trying to conceive and were thrilled when we found out in March that we were pregnant.

Just the word we wanted to see!

After our initial appointment with my doctor, we went in at 8 weeks for an ultrasound and saw our beautiful babe. We saw a baby, heard a strong heartbeat, and fell in love all over again. We were so incredibly excited, and I loved that Abigail would point at my growing mid-section and say "baby." (That's right - I had started showing around 6 weeks, making it practically impossible to keep the "good news" from the people who saw me regularly, like family, friends, and co-workers.)

The "belly" at about 9 weeks. (Yes, it was as big as it looks in this photo...)

We bought Abigail an adorable little t-shirt that proclaimed the fact that she was going to be a big sister, and I couldn't wait until she could wear it proudly. I didn't know for sure, but I felt that our little baby was a girl. I looked forward to Abby having the same relationship with her sister that I have with my sister. I imagined two little brown-eyed, dark haired, beautiful girls, and I could feel my heart almost bursting with love for these two precious blessings, one that I see every day and the other who was anxiously awaited.

A mere four weeks after our ultrasound, I went to Huntington Hospital for a first trimester ultrascreen (an ultrasound and blood test). As I sat on the table waiting for the doctor, I couldn't seem to shake a feeling that I'd been having for a few weeks - a feeling that something was "not right." Unlike with Abby, I didn't have morning sickness with this baby. I wasn't tired all the time like I was with Abby. All of the first trimester symptoms that I'd had with Abby were conspicuously absent with this pregnancy. My doctor had told me to be glad that I was feeling so well - "Every pregnancy is different," he said, so I shouldn't worry if my symptoms with baby #1 differed from those with baby #2. All the same, it just didn't feel right.

Well, the doctor came in and began the test. She said very little, and moved quickly from angle to angle. At this point, I knew that something was wrong. She looked at me, sorrow in her face, as she shared the news I had dreaded and half-expected: she could find no heartbeat, there was no fetal movement, and, despite the fact that I was 13 weeks along, the baby barely measured 10 weeks. I was devastated. I could feel my world unraveling as I lay on the table. I was moved to the doctor's office, where I sat and waited for my OB/GYN (who was thankfully on-call and at the hospital that day) to come speak with me. I felt numb. I had dreaded bad news, but a part of me had still hoped that everything would work out for the best. I had hoped to go into work that afternoon with an ultrasound picture of my healthy, active baby. I had expected to share the good news with our family that weekend. And instead, I sat numbly in a chair as my doctor explained to me that I would need to undergo surgery to have my baby removed from my body.

He is with you when your baby's gone,
And your house is still,
And your heart's a stone
Crying God, what'd You do that for?
He is with you.
...
We may weep for a time
But joy will come in the morning, the morning light.
-He Is With You, Mandisa (from the album Freedom)

I somehow made it out to my car, where I completely lost it. As I turned the key in the ignition, the tears began to stream down my face. I called Carey, but was unable to even speak because I was crying so hard. He knew immediately that we'd lost the baby and began to pack up to leave work to come home to me. He called my office to let them know that I wouldn't be in that afternoon. I called my mom, dad and sister, sharing the heart-wrenching news as I arrived at home. I sat on the couch, with my hand on my swollen belly, in disbelief that the being inside of me was no longer alive after we had seen her heartbeat only 4 weeks prior. How did this happen? The doctor could see no visible defects in the ultrasound pictures, so what had happened to my baby? Even worse, I knew that in three days, I would have to check into the hospital to have surgery to remove my baby from my body. Part of me wanted to hold onto my baby, even knowing that she wasn't alive anymore. But another part of me wanted to get "it" out of me as quickly as possible. It was a roller-coaster of emotions, and I had no idea how long the ride was going to be.

Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
-Psalm 73: 23-26

I somehow made it through the next few days, thankful for my job, which kept my hands busy and my mind occupied, and thankful for Carey, Abigail, and our family and friends, who showed more support for me than I could have imagined possible. I underwent surgery on May 21st, and had a speedy, full recovery. About 6 weeks after my surgery, I received a telephone call from my doctor letting me know that the results of the genetic testing had come back normal. Just when I thought I was starting to pull it together, I felt it all unravel again. I was furious and confused and hurt and scared. There were no physical abnormalities and there were no major genetic abnormalities. (The doctor did tell Carey that the genetic testing doesn't pick up everything, just the most likely culprits, so it is possible that our baby had a less-common genetic problem that wasn't tested.) I had not realized how much I clung to the hope of having an answer until I wasn't able to get one. Instead of knowing that my baby hadn't survived due to genetic problem A or physical defect B, I found myself back where I started: a lost child, a broken heart, and no hope for an answer. Ever.

Accepting the mystery of what we cannot know will lead us to the heart of God where we trade our craving for explanation for a simple willingness to trust.
-Strong Women, Soft Hearts, Paula Rinehart

Slowly, I felt my unraveling world knitting itself back together. I knew that it would never be the same - my story had changed irrevocably, but it was evolving into something else. I will never understand why God chose for us to be parents to a little babe for 12 short weeks, only to welcome our little angel back into Heaven to be with Him. But I slowly came to realize that it's not my job to understand His ways. Rather, it is my comfort to know that nothing happens without His knowledge and nothing happens without a reason. God is going to use this horrible, painful experience to change my life in some way, and I know that what had been a grief-filled situation will somehow be turned into something of hope and faith and glory.

However easy it may be to allow myself to wail over my loss, it is a far more satisfying thing to believe that all of this is a brief season. The Lord I have placed my trust in tells me that I will see my child again, and while He stands beside me, He weeps. He doesn't weep at the barren ground, nor does He mourn the browning branches. He cries because I can't see what He can. And in the fluttering of the breeze, with my heart pressed to His, I can hear Him whisper, "Spring will come, my love."
-I Will Carry You: The Scared Dance of Grief and Joy, Angie Smith

I'm not there yet. Every day is a work-in-progress, with some days being easier than others. I never knew how many pregnant women there were in New York City until I had lost my baby... And while I am genuinely happy for our friends and family (and even complete strangers) who have given birth to or are carrying their babies, there is still a part of me that wonders why this horrible loss happened to me. It is those times that I remind myself that God did not do this to hurt us. God loves me, God loves Carey, and God loves our little angel baby. So, while I don't understand "why," I do understand His unconditional, unwavering, all-encompassing love. I know that our baby is in the arms of the Being who knew her before she was ever formed and who holds her now when her parents cannot.

It is easy to become disillusioned with the circumstances of our lives compared to other's. But in the presence of God, He gives us a deeper peace and joy that transcends it all.
-Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God, Francis Chan

Our baby was due to join us on November 26th, so I know that the day after Thanksgiving will be a sad day for us this year. But, while I am grieving for what we have lost, I am thankful for what we have. Carey and I have been blessed with a beautiful baby girl who brings us joy and laughter each day of our lives. Carey and I have each other, and this experience has allowed us to comfort each other and strengthen each other and love each other more fully. We have been surrounded by family and friends who offered words of sympathy, support, comfort, and love. We pray that, if it is God's plan for us to have more children, He will allow us to conceive and give birth to a healthy child. But, this experience has also taught us that, if it is God's plan for the Ngs to be a family of three, we are abundantly blessed by our daughter and will live happy in the knowledge that we have a precious angel here on earth to love and care for and a precious angel up in Heaven who is under the loving care of our Heavenly Father.

So, as you go through your day today, please remember the women who have encountered loss. Regardless of the stage when the loss occurred, these women need the prayers and support of those around them to cope with their loss. Pray also for the men and other family members and friends who are affected by such losses. It is estimated that 1 in 5 women will experience a miscarriage at some point in her reproductive life. I never imagined that I would be that 20%, but May 2010 saw us become part of that group. Tonight, we will light a candle at 7:00 pm in honor of our angel. Women and men around the world will be doing the same thing, creating a wave of light that will travel around the world. Would you be willing to light a candle in your home at 7:00 pm, in honor of our baby? In honor of the many babies who are resting safe in the arms of our Heavenly Father instead of the arms of their mommies and daddies? I pray that our little baby will look down and see her mommy, daddy and older sister remembering the brief time that we were a family together here on earth and looking forward to the day when we will be reunited in Heaven.