Writing and praying behind closed doors: 2) Hope

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Summer 2006

July:
To our delight the test is positive. After years of thinking it could never happen. Now we are bursting to share our well-kept secret. We could shout it from the rooftops. If all goes well, the birth date will be March 21, the day after his paternal mum’s birthday. What a lovely present for a grandmother!

Why this internal discomfort? Why won’t my stomach settle? Why this tenderness around my middle?

Late July/early August:
Early miscarriage – that is why. Day after day flows the gentle but relentless bleeding. I try to relax. Lying down seems to stem the flow. As soon as I move and get up it starts again. Slowly this little life we have conceived is slipping away. And then one morning I wake up feeling empty. It is the morning of the day the scan tells me it has gone.

Kevin is shocked by my tearful phone call from the hospital. Genuinely he thought the baby was still there. How was he to know? I don’t look any different. Kevin hadn’t experienced that empty feeling.

I feel sad for Kevin. He was so enthusiastic when we realised I was with child.Like a rock he remained positive when the bleeding started and then continued. I don’t want to let him down.

I feel sad for myself. I can’t bear being among the other Mums-to-be, excited about their pregnancies. They look half my age. The grandmothers are in their 40s like me. The age difference seems to underline our loss. A sympathetic nurse lets me wait in a room on my own for the doctor who doesn’t arrive. He has been called away to an emergency. Without fuss I retreat home newly alone.

In my worst moments I think: “What did I expect at my age?”
A well-meaning person says it: “Don’t you think you’ve left it too late?”. She is kind as she speaks and as if talking to a child who is failing to grasp a very simple concept. And yes I agree with her. That definitely is the sensible view.

And yet…Why do our reckless hearts stay stubborn and cling to a glimpse of hope? Kevin is the boldest, saying: “Let’s just try again.” I am the more cautious one.

In my best moments I think: “ We have put our trust in our Heavenly Creator. The desire for a child has not gone away. It was as if He has been nudging us forward. The doctors investigated and the results gave us encouragement. This gave us the guts to think it might be possible. The miracle was the conception with no medical intervention. Perhaps we could try again?”

Do I feel His gentle voice caressing us with soft whispers, asking us to trust in Him? Against the odds do we give it another try? Either He will open that door or it will remain firmly shut. I think it is opening just a chink. We appreciate your thoughts and prayers whatever lies ahead.

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About Gentle Breeze

Julia is married to Kevin. They live together in Todmorden with their black and white cat Willow. Todmorden is a small rural town nestling among the Pennine hills in the Upper Calder Valley, on the border of West Yorkshire and Lancashire. Julia is a mixture of contradictions. She happily shares her email address with her husband; yet when she married she kept her own surname.
This entry was posted in Christianity, Miscarriage, Spirituality and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Writing and praying behind closed doors: 2) Hope

  1. Thank you for sharing so honestly and bravely. I hope it is a blessing to you to share, and I’m sure it will be ministering to many others. God bless you xx

  2. Ruth says:

    A friend’s daughter lost her little unborn Noah a few months back. The doctor and nurses were so kind, but it was still heartbreaking. I’m praying the “door opens again” for her.

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