Today’s blog post is a guest post submitted by Emily Scherrer. Her story of love after loss offers hope to those who have faced miscarriage and is an example of faith in the midst of challenging circumstances. If you have a story you would like to submit, click here for more details.
Timeline: November 2016
When Jane, our firstborn daughter, turned one-year-old, I decided to have another baby. We had just moved into our house after a season of living with my in-laws. I finally lost enough baby weight to fit into some of my favorite pre-pregnancy dresses. I felt good. My husband, my daughter, and I had settled in. The house had an extra bedroom and the time seemed right to extend our family.
Before the month’s end, a pregnancy test showed positive. At nine weeks gestation, I miscarried. I was devastated. The doctor advised us to wait a full cycle before trying again. I had no problem waiting. I figured I would try again after six or twelve cycles. The last thing I wanted was to try again.
A Baby Surprise
Much to our surprise, I got pregnant again before I had my next period. My initial response was anger at God. “How dare you take away the child I wanted and then replace it when I’m not ready?” Just when I made peace I would never meet the baby I became so attached to, here was another life-changing event thrown at me. I continued to sulk privately to God. The possibility of going through another loss terrified me.
I willed myself not to become attached to my unborn boy. Only when I faced the real threat of losing him, did I open my heart and truly want him. At 12 weeks gestation, I began bleeding at an alarming rate and went to the ER. The fact I was in the same ER where I miscarried mere months before did not help my emotional state.
The ultrasound showed a healthy baby, but the doctors could not pin down the cause of the bleeding. They sent me home with instructions to return if the bleeding should increase. The uncertainty was difficult to cope with.
An Emotional Rollercoaster
I had just spent the seemingly long drive to the ER in tears, mourning the loss of my child, to then hear the doctor give the baby a 50% chance of being alive. I should have been hopeful, but instead, I felt empty, confused, and doubtful. I repeatedly told my husband over the course of the next few days, “I don’t want our baby to die.” Each time, he responded with a gentle but equally doubtful, “I know.”
About a week later the bleeding returned, and my husband drove me to the ER once again. This time, a sub chorionic hemorrhage, a harmless sort of internal blister, could be seen on the ultrasound. My baby was safe.
But my son was not finished causing problems. Throughout the second trimester, he sat directly on my cervix, causing me debilitating nerve pain whenever I walked. During the third trimester, I developed severe preeclampsia, and labor was induced at 35 weeks.
My Rainbow Baby
I pushed for two contractions, and he was out. They laid him on my chest for about four seconds before whisking him off to the NICU because he could hardly breathe. We named our son, Roderick.
My special IV for preeclampsia prevented me from visiting Rod for 24 hours. When I could finally see him, I reached up from the wheelchair and placed my hand on his back. I didn’t move for a long time.
From the start, I loved my rainbow baby with a double love I’d never have guessed possible. I thank God for my son every day. And I’m grateful for the sovereign wisdom God gave us in every step of the process. God knew what I didn’t: it is possible to have love after loss.
Rod is now 8 months old, chubby, and healthy in every way. He loves laughing with his big sister, chasing his dog, and snuggling with his mommy and daddy.
Emily Scherrer is a stay at home wife and mom with a degree in Animal Science. She enjoys her family, good stories, and caring for animals. She blogs at windingyarn.wordpress.com.