Part 2: I sat in my chair in the classroom ready to interpret when it hit me that a miscarriage was in process. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood up to tell my colleague and teacher that I needed to call a sub. Oh my god, I really am losing my baby, I thought.
According to the first bloodwork done I was still pregnant, our 7th pregnancy. We had a two year old at home and had 5 miscarriages in 5 years. Now we were waiting on the second bloodwork results to come back to see if my levels were rising.
Over the course of writing Hiding Hope: Our story of 9 pregnancies, 7 miscarriages, and 2 miracle babies, I encountered many women who have lost children either in the womb or in their arms.
A month after our crazy-super-cool-encounter with God, we found out we were pregnant! As soon as the double line appeared on the pregnancy test we knew Victoria Faith was coming. I called my OB and asked for a pregnancy (HCG) blood test. I knew not to wait for an ultrasound. Waiting another month for an 8 week ultrasound would be torture for me. No one ever accused me of having patience. It isn’t my strong suit by any means.
Pushing a stroller in the middle of the Los Angeles Zoo on a sweltering, hot August day. August 2nd, 2010 to be exact, my phone received a text message. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket. I looked down and read, “I’m praying for you to have a baby”. I laughed to myself, I don’t know about that. I thought.
Six months later, Mikayla turned two years old. It was as if the number 2 was a magical number that automatically signaled to the outside world that one child was not enough. The questions and comments were coming from every angle, “When you are going to have Baby #2?”, “She’s two now, she needs a sibling.”, “You guys are such good parents, we can’t imagine you with only one child.”, “Well don’t wait forever, this is how God blesses you.”
When I was little we had three huge Weeping Willow trees in our backyard that towered over the far end of our property line. On one particular lazy, summer day I took a blanket out and laid it across the ground under the willows. I couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9 years old at the time.
One of my favorite authors, Shauna Niequist, writes in her books, Bittersweet, Bread and Wine, and Savor about her two miscarriages. I had never met a writer who wrote such real, raw emotions that come with loss and miscarriages. I spent last summer devouring her works with my whole heart, while my cheeks were stained with tears.
In the early hours of dawn I awoke to the bed sheets feeling damp beneath me. For a brief moment I wondered if Mikayla had climbed into bed with a leaky diaper. The bedroom was still darkened with a hint of sunlight starting to sneak past the blinds. Then in my mind the morning fogginess cleared. I glanced down at my hand while I sat up on the side of the bed. Blood. I’m covered in blood.
It was Christmas. Cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg filled the air as the oven baked pies, cookies, and more holiday treats. Our Christmas tree stood in the middle of our new living room, in our new home with white lights twinkling in the tree. Our landlords called us while we were in our previous one bedroom apartment and asked if we would like to move into their three bedroom house, all we had to do was name our price.