Update

With a holiday weekend upon us (and lots of plans), I thought I'd get my weekly post in early, just in case.

This week has been rough. We (mostly) missed Valentine's day this year; luckily we'd made Andrew's valentines for class last Friday, so he was amply valentined at pre-school. And I gave each of the kids a book and a box of chocolates, but that was it.

I suppose the roughness requires a little bit of explanation--and since this blog is a record of our family, I suppose that also compels me to be honest. Sunday night, we lost the baby that I'd been carrying for 15+ weeks. I suppose a miscarriage at any stage is hard--somehow this was harder for having passed that "magical" 12-week mark where a miscarriage is supposed to be less likely. (While I'm on the topic, I have to say that I dislike all our euphemisms for this kind of thing--what does it mean to "loose" a baby? As if you somehow misplaced it out of negligence? Or to "mis-carry," as if there's somehow a right way to carry a baby, and it's only out of some kind of ineptitude that the pregnancy doesn't go to term? Dan tells me I should burn my copy of What to Expect while You're Expecting, which told me that miscarriages before 12 weeks are usually due to fetal abnormality, but after 12 weeks it's usually some problem with the mother . . . Is that supposed to make me feel better? Okay, sorry for the rant. I'm done now.)

In the aftermath, I've been surprised by two things. The first is the sense of calmness that I've felt, even in the midst of grieving. Some of that, I think, is due to the blessing Dan gave me before we went to the hospital, which promised that God does love me. And, despite everything, I do believe (and feel) that.

The second thing is the overwhelming love and support we've felt. A woman in the ward (whom I visit teach) voluntarily brought us dinner Monday night when she found out what had happened. My mother-in-law showed up Monday afternoon and cleaned my house while I took a much-needed nap. A woman from the Segullah staff (whom I've only actually met once) called me and shared her own experience with a late miscarriage (and today, I received a book from her). Family and friends have called, and sent flowers. I am by nature a private person and this has been something that's been hard to talk about, but I can't get over how kind everyone has been, and how sympathetic. So thank you to all of you who have kept us in your thoughts and prayers.

Anyway, I'm not posting this to look for sympathy. Just to record what has been happening in our family's life. Things are much better now, at the end of the week, as our schedules have more or less returned to normal and I only have occasional reminders of what we lost (like every time a facebook friend posts an update on her pregnancy status, I feel this sharp twinge of jealousy. I'm happy for her--for her family--but I can't help wishing things had been different for us). And things, I'm sure, will continue to get better. (But don't be surprised if, next time we manage to get pregnant--if there is a next time--if we wait to tell people until I'm so far along that it's obvious. Untelling people is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.)