Saturday, February 12, 2011

Week Ten (or This is Always Where it Ends)

i won't mince words.
sometime in the last week, the flicker of light that was our baby's heartbeat went dim, and my body took her back. all that's left is the empty yolk sac and an alien-looking giant bubble that's making my pants still not fit.
i'm terribly sorry, Team Hope, because i know this news will devastate you too. how i have clung to your words of encouragement and found peace in your cheers and prayers. i will still be finding these things in the coming days. it is good to know that Tummymuffin III was so loved during her too-short tiny life.
so much of pain is fear, and i think i have a lot less fear for what's to come. i've been through it twice already, and even though i am not dismissing the possibility that this time could be different in whatever ways, i at least know what the physical and emotional pain is going to be like. more importantly, i can feel more confident that having gotten through two rounds of this kind of loss already, this one still won't break my marriage, break my faith, or break me. more importantly, i think i am fundamentally changed; more willing to ask for help and lean on the support and compassion of others. i know i won't run away from this. it just feels like i have better tools to help me keep moving through the days and weeks and months to come. life is going to continue with or without me. i'd prefer it to be with me.
in a few days, i will need to have a procedure done to remove what is left*; this time there will be less physical impact, i'm told. since there is no question that Tummymuffin III is completely gone, we'd prefer to not wait so we can have some emotional closure. i'm not sure when i'll post again, but i will try to stay open & honest here, and keep Team Hope in the loop.
thanks for your continued cheering. we need it right now.

*the procedure is called an MVA; i've written about it here as a resource for other women looking for information on what to expect.

10 comments: said...

Crying with you, my precious Sissy. Praying for God's sustaining grace through the moments, days, weeks and months ahead. Yes, TM III, you are loved and cherished always.

Sarah said...

Oh, Erika...I'm so terribly sorry. Please let me know if there's anything I can do for you and Thomas. Love from the east.

Julianne Harvey said...

I am standing with you and crying for you all in this dark time. I love how honest you are about the hope that you have felt, and the support and encouragement you have experienced, and we all wanted a different outcome for this pregnancy.

I am giving you a metaphorical and spiritual hug that will reach you across the distance. You are loved, and God loves you too, even though it is impossible to understand why these terrible things keep occurring. You are a strong woman, but vulnerability is a part of strength, and your openness to share is inspiring to me.

Unknown said...

Dear Erika,
The eloquence of your words is wonderful way to absorb the heartbreak. You are a a shining light that glows brighter in moments of darkness.
Sending lots of love and light to you!
Laura and Michael

Karen said...


It was good to sit with you in joy and hope. Now I hold you in my heart and prayers in grief.


Melissa said...

This is extremely sad news, E. My heart hurts for you, Thomas, and all of us on Team Hope. As always, your chorus is here for you, in good times and bad. You are loved very much right now. I'm so sorry, baby.

Kimberly said...

I haven't known what to say. I am so sorry, more than any words can express. My heart breaks for you, sweet friend, and your dear husband. I love you and continue to pray. So very sorry.

concretegodmother said...

Oh, Erika. Shit! I was praying for this one, and just...shit. I could say all kinds of christiany things, but I won't. I'll just say "shit!" and let you know I'm still praying for you.

hadashi said...

thank you my friends. every time i start to feel isolated in grief i think of you. i promise i'll write more here, and stay honest.

kevin said...

Hi there,

I mourn for you and the wrenching loss of your child. I don't know you, but just a minute ago read your latest post. I am mourning with you now.
Don't know why I found your blog just now - I never read blogs. Yours popped up out of the internet fog.
A memoir I wrote was just published "Burst - A Story of God's Grace When Life Falls Apart." It is being well-received.
It may lend you some comfort now. You and I have suffered similarly. I will keep you in my prayers tonight, and tomorrow.
Kevin Wells


    in pregnancy loss communities,  when you have a living child after losing others, that child is called a "rainbow baby."  it&#...