A Positive is Not a Promise

I knew I was ready for another baby when pregnancy announcements made me jealous.

I created a secret Pinterest board for Baby #2. Began dreaming of a name, mentally decorating a room.

Over the summer a faint second line and early hcg levels said I was pregnant. But those levels dropped and the line quickly faded, until they were gone.

Chemical pregnancy.
It felt like tripping up stairs in the dark.

My OB’s nurse practitioner referred to it as a miscarriage. Conception that failed very early. However I have friends who have been told that a CP is merely a FP. False positive.

I didn’t and I still don’t know what happened or what to believe.

Months later, two very solid lines on two different tests, followed by promising blood levels.  My progesterone was low again so I began taking supplements. Days turned to weeks and weeks became a month. As our ultrasound neared I was more and more excited. 3 more sleeps until we see our baby! 2 more sleeps until we hear the heartbeat! But 28 hours before my appointment, at 8 weeks and 2 days, I knew something was wrong.

I tried to have hope. Scoured the internet for message boards of women with my symptoms who went on to have healthy babies. There are many. And yet I knew I would not be one of them.

I prayed for a miracle but even as I did, I could almost feel my words bouncing back, hitting me in the face.

At the hospital, the ultrasound tech chose to take measurements before showing us the baby. Her quick glance at the start had shown her all she needed to see. Stillness. No flicker of a heartbeat. Finally she settled on the grainy, black and white image of a tiny human form, and confirmed our loss.

I nodded and thanked her for her time. But I did not cry.

In the room with the nurse practitioner, hearing the options in great, sympathetic detail, I asked questions and weighed my decision. But I did not cry.

I have moments, to be sure. Pity parties, where I wallow in the negativity. Blame myself for running too hard or drinking right up to the allotted amount of coffee. Blame my body and its low progesterone or seemingly hostile uterus. Blame God, Who must be punishing me for my sins.

But they are only moments. (Okay sometimes entire afternoons) Immature, absurd, ridiculous moments. I let myself feel them, then recognize them for the lies they are and let them go.

Tears do fall from my eyes, but this time….there are no distraught, grieving, gut-wrenching cries.

Not because this baby was any less loved.


I know what is waiting on the other side.
This sadness will not last forever.

The morning of the ultrasound, my bible reading ended in Isaiah 66. That evening, I went back to find a line that had been repeating in my head all day:

Isaiah 66:12 For this is what the LORD says: I will extend peace to her like a river

I honestly do feel a current of peace running through me. It’s so strong, and would be inexplicable if I didn’t know better. 

Our Father is faithful. Abundantly, extravagantly, consistently so.
He was so patient with me, as I questioned Him in loss and pleaded for reassurance while carrying Enzo. No question went unanswered, no request was ignored.

And now? I spend my days hugging and kissing this marvelously handsome answered prayer. My sweet living proof of Romans 8:18 and 28. The pain that you’ve been feeling can’t compare to the joy that’s coming, and We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

I am very sad, but not devastatingly so. I know we will see our angel babies one day and God will redeem this hurt, in His time. Maybe with another healthy baby, maybe with continued peace and guidance to a new direction.

Meanwhile we choose to be grateful and joyful amid the pain, understanding His plan is far better than our own. He has proven He can be trusted. So trust we will.



*If you are finding out about this loss via the blog and not from a personal conversation, and you feel hurt by that, I’m sorry. It was a purposeful decision on my part. To instantly see or hear my sadness mirrored in the reaction of people who care about me, over and over…it’s not something I have felt like facing. I appreciate the concern and love so very much, but even though I’m doing better this time around it is still hard and exhausting to repeatedly answer the same questions or have to convince others I’m/we’re fine. I would rather convey as much information to as many people as I can, in one post than a hundred messages. I hope that makes sense and is not offensive.


I also wanted to share the story here because I believe the overall calm I’ve experienced is a God thing. Assuring me, He’s going to turn all of this into a good thing. There are a lot of people who need the peace and hope and joy only He can provide, especially now. At this time of year, in this stage of life, amid this state of the world. And in my opinion the most effective way to really reach hearts is to openly and honestly show them what God has done for mine. Thank you for caring enough to read this, I hope you’ll continue to follow along to see where our parenthood journey leads. <3 

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