This is supposed to be a photo of a fetus at 12 weeks gestation that I ran across on FaceBook recently. My first thought was “Yeah, it might be a true representation of the size and physical development the baby would be at that age. Although the picture is obviously a very manipulated photo to serve a certain purpose.” I was sceptical to it’s authenticity.
But then I started thinking back to the life-changing December of 2003…..
I was ready! Our first-born child was little over a year old. A sweet, always smiling, easy-going little guy, the apple of our eye. I felt it was the perfect timing to try again and add another bundle of joy to our family, and having siblings 2 years apart was the ultimate arrangement in my eyes. But as we women have this awkward thing called “intuition” ….. there was a faint little voice, a barely noticeable feeling, way, way back there somewhere, trying to gently tell me “this is not the right time, and you need to stop pushing your own agenda.”
I did however get pregnant quickly, as I had hoped, and everything was going according to my plan. I was excited, but didn’t have much time to think about the pregnancy, as I was now chasing after a very busy toddler. It was Thanksgiving, I was 8 weeks along, and we were invited to a dinner with friends. During the dinner I felt it stronger than ever; wouldn’t it be “typical God” to let me lose this baby, so I can better comfort other women who have miscarried? I quickly pushed the though aside as we left our friend behind and went back to our everyday lives.
At 10 weeks along, I went in for my Doppler, my first chance to hear that there was another heart beating inside of me. The inexperienced technician did not find one. The midwife tried and could not find one, either. Thus they concluded it was a little too early to find a heartbeat and they would try again next week.
2 days later, I started bleeding…. First a little, then some more. I was terrified! The midwife told me this could be normal, drink lots of water, rest, keep your legs up, etc. I did. The bleeding decreased some. Did I mention my husband was working out-of-town all day and I was alone with the before mentioned very busy toddler? By evening, the bleeding increased and I started panicking. Reality was setting in, I was still alone and by now I was hysterically sobbing, PLEADING for my baby’s life, praying more desperately than I had EVER done before.
Following morning, my husband and I went to the midwife who listened to my story and still tried to encourage me that she had seen similar scenarios turn out fine and as long as I was not bleeding “clots” there was still hope. She was about to dismiss us when I told her about “my feeling”. She looked a little surprised, then ordered an immediate ultrasound.
We got to see our baby on the ultrasound monitor. A well-formed, tiny baby, curled up in typical “fetal position”…… no heartbeat, died of unknown causes at approximately 8 weeks of life…. I wish I had been in my right mind to ask for a photo, but I didn’t think about it. All I could do was to stare at the screen, wishing there would have been the familiar sound of a fast lub-dub to go with it.
Some would argue “what a cruel God you believe in”. I didn’t see it that way. I wasn’t mad at Him. After all, He had tried to warn me, and even after I ignored Him, He kept on whispering to me, promising that my pain would not be in vain and that He had not forsaken me and that He loved me and my baby dearly.
The next 2 weeks, I grieved deeply, cried myself to sleep every night, had a cloud hanging over me every day, fear and despair gripping me. But on the other hand, I felt like God was carrying me through it, healing my heart and my body faster than I had imagined possible, letting me appreciate all the life surrounding me and not ever taking it for granted. And to top it off, He told me that the child he had taken to heaven was a little girl and her name was “Ellie”. I knew it was God telling me this, because like most pregnant women, I had spent hours thinking about and looking up baby-names, and “Ellie” was never one I had considered or even noticed. When I later looked it up I broke down sobbing again; “Ellie” means “consecrated to God”. She was chosen, special, and had a purpose, even at 8 weeks of life.
So back to the FaceBook photo; Yes, it is manipulated to show how amazing Creation is and how awesome the Creator is, but I can testify that the baby in the picture looks a lot like my precious Ellie. I can’t wait to see you again some day, my little girl. Your daddy and brothers can’t wait to meet you, either. For yes, 6 weeks later, in God’s perfect timing, I became pregnant again, and we were blessed with another healthy, loving, sweet baby boy.
Bøggeløgga 