One night of mourning

Tonight I cuddled with my sweet hubby and we enjoyed a movie together. The movie was "The Monuments Men". He'd never seen it before, but I had.
One year ago I'd planned a Girls' Night Out. My mom and I met a few other ladies from church at the local theater. There were only 6 of us in the entire room that night. We enjoyed the film and our private screening. Little did I know that something less than beautiful was beginning for me.
After the movie a few of us stopped to use the ladies room on our way out the door. That is when my heart stopped. To my horror my pants were covered in blood. As my heart raced and my mind whirled I passed a softball size blood clot and the automatic toilet took it away before I knew what happened. 14 weeks pregnant and I believed my baby had just been taken from my womb never to be snuggled, never to be kissed, never to be celebrated. I left the bathroom shocked and afraid to ruin our evening. I walked with the group towards the parking lot nodding and saying the appropriate responses until I could climb into my van. My mom lingered with a friend, it was a tender mercy. My feelings could be corralled no more. The torrent of emotions drowned me. I dialed my husband and blurted out "I think I just miscarried." Through sobs I related the most recent events. I knew he was equally as devastated but I could only focus on my loss. In a minute I was off the phone and my mom opened the door. Imagine her surprise finding me in such a state. I spoke the same words to her. Her arms were around me trying to lift me from my plummet. I could hardly breath. I could hardly think. I wanted to drive. I wanted to fight. I wanted to somehow retrieve my baby. I couldn't see straight.
My mother drove me home and I changed my clothes in preparation for the hospital. I took a moment and called the midwives' emergency line to tell the midwife on call what happened. When she called back I related the story. By this time the tears had stopped, my breathing had slowed and my heart felt cold. The midwife agreed with my original conclusion. She believed I'd lost my baby. She questioned my physical state and told me to stay home and rest while taking tylenol. I believed her.
I hung up the phone and climbed toward my pillow. I left my dear mommy to see herself out. And I cried.
My husband curled up beside me and he cried with me. His child was lost as well. Sometimes I forget the wretched  night he endured. After a few hours my head throbbed, my eyes were dry and my soul felt empty. The worst part was I didn't want comfort. I didn't think I deserved comfort. I needed to suffer. I had to suffer. I was required to mourn for my baby. And I did.
Sleep came when tears no longer could.
At the breakfast table my eyes were glazed. My children chattered away and I recall them talking about the baby. I just looked to my hubby and thought "how am I supposed to tell them? why do I have to say there won't be a baby anymore?" I didn't. I couldn't, not yet at  least.
At 9:01am I called the OB's office to schedule my emergency visit. The scheduler handled the call gently, she apologized for my loss, another tender mercy of the Lord. The next few hours until my appt I spent huddled in my living room. I was still mourning my baby, but I was now sad for my husband. This was his birthday. I kept apologizing for ruining his birthday. To his credit he looked at me like I was crazy.
Around 11 we were waiting hand in hand to see the head doctor. The doctor you only get to see if something goes wrong. The doctor who's bedside manner was rumored to be extinct. I laid on the exam table while I gave the brief details. He exhaled and said "well, let's check to make sure." I didn't react to the chill of the gel as he applied the fetal monitor. Tears silently slid into my ears. After only a moment he looked me in the eye and said "You're still pregnant."
WHAT?! "Huh?" was my actual response.
"Are you sure?"
He said "You didn't think that heart beat was yours, did you? If your heart was going that fast you'd be in real trouble." And in that instant the elephant was lifted from my chest and feeling was restored to my soul. My husband and I felt confused but all I wanted to feel was the joy. The sunshine that returned to my soul. I hadn't lost my baby in that movie theater stall. After a series of tests and checks they found a beautifully healthy baby within me. I was put on bedrest for the next 6 weeks and left to wonder why it all occurred.
Today I snuggled my miracle baby. Today I kissed those cheeks. Today I celebrated his life. Most miscarriages don't end with such joy. The Lord gave me a chance to feel the pain of another's heartache. This experience taught me compassion, gratitude, and the pure love of Christ. I now know what to say or better yet what not to say to a woman suffering. I now know how fragile life is. I know that life continues forward and our cracks that occur from the tough times help us become more beautiful and perfect in the end.