April 5th was like any other Easter Sunday. Jeremy was drumming and I was helping lead worship. We arrived early and had two successful services. During the middle of the third service I helped out in the nursery, as it was over packed with babies, and talked about the precious wee-one growing inside of me. Before heading back on stage at the end of service I went to the bathroom and saw it: blood. I immediately started to freak out as I hadn’t spotted once during the previous ten weeks. I called my doctors office and they were less than helpful and so Jeremy and I decided to go to the ER right away. The wonderful blessing about our church is that when Jeremy and I didn’t show up at the end of the service, people knew something was wrong and so they started to pray. Because I wasn’t in any pain at this point, we waited in the ER for a couple hours before I was seen. I had an ultrasound with the camera facing the opposite direction so I couldn’t see what was going on. The ultrasound tech was extremely nice and comforting which made the time pass easier. When the doctor came back a few minutes later he sadly confirmed our worst nightmare. Our baby had no heartbeat and was measuring only seven weeks. I felt like someone had stepped on my chest and while I wanted to take deep breaths I couldn’t. He continued to talk and give more information yet I heard nothing. My mom walked back into the room right after he came in and all I had to do was look at her and shake my head. When the doctor left an instant stream of tears began flooding out of us. All I had ever hoped, prayed, and dreamt about was being a mom, and now it wasn’t going to happen.
this picture was taken Easter morning.
The following 28 hours were a complete whirlwind. I called my doctors office Monday morning at 8:30, exactly when they opened. When they hadn’t called me back at 10:30 my mom called them and asked what was going on. Finally, they called me back at 12:45pm telling me because I wasn’t ‘bad enough’ I could wait a few days before coming in. In the meantime, we had found another doctors office and was able to get in that day, by the grace of God. It turned out to be a blessing and the doctors there were so incredibly nice. Long story short, it seemed as if my body was incapable of passing the baby naturally so I scheduled my D&C for Thursday at 1pm. Jeremy and I went home and laid on the couch for the new few hours. Around 6pm my body decided to speed itself up and began the process I was dreading. Sparing the graphic details, after another painful night in the ER, I left completely empty.
Jeremy and I decided to name our baby, even though we didn’t know the gender. His name is Everett Finn Colquhoun which means brave, fair, warrior. It’s perfect. I was able to talk about losing our baby and have a name instead of calling him an ‘it.’ I wish I could name every single person that has prayed for, texted, called, and messaged us but to be honest, I don’t know every name. There have been people praying for Jeremy and I that I have never met before, and will probably only meet in Heaven one day. It just goes to show the power of community, prayer, and family.
I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m okay, because to be honest, I’m not. My heart is completely broken. My moods can be great and then instantly turn into sadness. I don’t ever want people to think I’m angry with them, but when I’m sad or mad my initial reaction is to retreat and hide. I’m trying to find the line of grieving and mourning and not dwelling on what has happened that it creates unhealthy patterns. I’ve been fighting off anger and bitterness the past week and feeling like I owe people ‘updates’ on how I’m doing. I didn’t like feeling that way so I took a few steps back. In my mind, I did everything right. I worked through my abuse, I worked hard to get myself healthy, I didn’t open my heart up to anyone other than who Christ intended, and I saved myself until marriage. Yet, it still happened. I’m not a statistic, even when it feels that way.
I was at the gym last night and one of my favorite people in the world was there. She has been with me since day one of my eight week transformation journey. We were talking about what life looks like now, and the transformation I’m beginning to go through and how different it looks. I told her that I before I found out I was pregnant, I was working hard to get where I needed to be, to finish off those final hurdles and to overcome my fears, and now, I have a second chance to do that. The past two weeks I found myself sitting and eating anything in sight while I was at home, work, or traveling. I find comfort in food and I know the last thing I need to do is drown my sorrows in pint after pint of Ben & Jerry’s. So the best rehab I can give myself is going to the gym three times a week and taking daily walks with my co-workers around the city. 
The pain is raw, and my heart is broken, but each day comes new opportunities for healing, and for God’s healing touch to come over me. The worship music has been a constant and it seems like now more than ever I’ve been in tune to the Spirit and have been able to speak life over those around me. If you need prayer, pray for people. If you need encouragement, encourage someone. If you need a coffee date, take someone out. Just don’t close off that communication. It’s what has been pulling me through. 
I’m not sure if I’ll write about this again, but I just wanted to give a bigger picture rather than random updates every few days.
What do you think?