Nine years ago, it was the day I walked into the ER with my church shoes filling with blood, telling the front desk I was having a miscarriage.
My bloody footprints got me in quickly.
I remember small things about that day.
The bagel I had packed in my bag, that I gave to Bryan to eat when he arrived…I was no longer eating for two. I remember the janitor coming in to clean the floor and he asked me, “Is all this yours?” I was also astounded at how much blood is stored up to support life, even just 10 weeks of life. After that day, life was never the same.
Eight years ago, on March 6, I was tracking my contractions through the night and we finally decided to go into the hospital the next morning. With a whole crew of expectant family members waiting downstairs for many of my 19 hours of labor, Cayden finally came into the world at 8:03 p.m. on March 7. After that day, life was never the same.
Eight months ago, I was late. This might not seem so uncommon, but not late in the way I am always late. I took a pregnancy test and, sure enough, we were no longer “done.” I calculated the due date – March 8, 2019. I laughed and knew the baby would come on March 7. But it didn’t. At my first appointment, exactly 1 month after my positive pregnancy test, the OB pulled up the ultrasound on the screen while she searched.
“There’s the baby…[pause]…”
I filled in the blank.
I’d seen it before.
“…But, there’s no heartbeat.”
Each of my three miscarriages have taught me invaluable things. My last one, on August 2, 2018, taught me to treasure life, marvel at the miracles my healthy children are, and to be thankful. I have so much to be thankful for, amidst the heartbreaking losses.
I am especially thankful for March 7.
Though I expected this day to bring a new baby and envisioned photos of Cayden holding a new little sister or brother on her birthday, I got to spend this March 7th working in Piper’s kindergarten class, driving to McDonald’s and Subway to pick up the girls’ favorites for lunch, watching Cayden strap on her new roller blades as soon as she got off the bus, and hearing Judah singing “Thy Will Be Done” to himself in the car. I am a blessed mama, and I don’t want to ever forget that.