I have read many stories that go like this, "I miscarried and it was so hard, and then I got pregnant again and it was wonderful... and there's hope." After my miscarriage last February, I read them all. I scoured the internet, eating them up. I read them on blogs and pieced together stories from online messaging boards. I extracted hope from friends who had experienced miscarriage. I calculated hypothetical situations based on statistics and "Dr. Google" research...
"Most women who miscarry go on to have a healthy pregnancy after miscarriage. Less than 5 percent of women have two consecutive miscarriages, and only 1 percent have three or more consecutive miscarriages."
"85% of women will go on to conceive a healthy pregnancy with in one year of miscarriage."
"Surely," I told myself, "I will be largely pregnant by Christmas.... I will be throwing up by [that] trip."
I inhaled hope from all sources. I was going to power through this thing.
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Then there were two more miscarriages.... and then months of negative pregnancy test. Then I was no longer a text book case. I became something totally different.
"A frustrating case"
"Really strange"
"A heartbreaking patient"
"Just odd"
All this prefaced with "You have two live children and no problems before or between them?"
And in the process of losing that textbook status, I lost something else. That hope. That hope that had pushed me through the beginning. It is changing.
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I want to share my happy ending. The birth announcement or ultrasound. But, my hope is changing. Changing from a hope for a baby to a hope for understanding. It's a hope to understand that God knows what my happy ending is. Sometimes I feel angry when people tell me not to "loose hope." I haven't lost hope, God is transforming it.
While the hope of a future pregnancy is still here, I keep it safe. It is fragile and sacred to me.
