The anguished cry of a loon ripped through her dream, startling her awake. What? Beside her, Dan slept, his breath slow and easy. It was a dream. Everything was fine. She closed her eyes, and placed a hand on her stomach.Stay safe, little one.
She drew in a deep breath, then released, forcing herself to relax, to not worry. God was with them. He loved them, had good plans for their lives. They could trust Him. She knew that. But trusting God with their child’s life felt almost like a step too far, like she was stepping out into a chasm with no visible bridge, like in an old Indiana Jones movie. And while she knew faith required stepping into places unseen, the fact she’d been here before, trusting God that He’d bring His miracle of new life into fullness, and seen that crumble, had eroded some of her faith.
Not that she’d admit that to anyone. Not that she’d ever admit that on her podcast. She was trying to encourage others to trust God. What would it say if she admitted that God had let her down? Twice now? She couldn’t. Which was why nobody knew about their miscarriages. Apart from the doctors, and now their parents.
She exhaled. She hoped Helen and Andrew wouldn’t mention that to anyone else. She didn’t think they’d be so insensitive. Would they? No.
Amid the churn of such thoughts—shedidn’twant to believe it—she grew aware of another sensation. She kept her eyes closed, forced herself to relax. Be calm, be still, and know that—
Her stomach tightened, then released.No.
Her body tensed again, as a trickle of fear wove past her prayers. No. Not again. Not when she might finally give her husband his dearest wish.
Lord, she silently prayed, not wanting to disturb Dan sleeping beside her.You know we love this tiny person already. Please keep him or her safe.
For a moment hope bobbed higher, just above her fears, before the memory returned of Dr. McKinnon’s frown and thinned lips when he’d seen the wavery pink lines and examined the blood test results. But God was bigger than a test result. God was bigger than her fears. She knew that.Knewthat. She’d even written a song used in churches worldwide about how God could do anything. So surely it stood to reason that if God could do anything, then He wouldn’t want her to suffer more loss. Not again…
She drew in another deep breath then slowly exhaled. Relax. She needed to relax. Stress led to higher blood pressure which wasn’t good for the baby, and after the tense moments last night she’d known she needed to forgive and let it go. Which was hard to do, especially when her heart had always felt a little prone to picking up offense like a magnet collected nails.Lord, I forgive them, she prayed.Forgive me, for all I’ve done wrong, and—
Another pang hit.No!This cramp was more intense, like a heavy band around her stomach. It subsided, then resumed, gripping her in a tight squeeze until the hope she’d been praying with fluttered away, broken. She knew what this meant.Oh God…
She hurt. But the pain in her body was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Listening to Dan’s even breathing she stilled, wanting to absorb the last moments of his peace before it too broke.Oh God, be with him….
Tears heated the back of her eyes. She quietly slipped from the bed and padded to the ensuite bathroom, closing the door before turning on the light. If this was what she feared, Dan needed to sleep as much as he could, because he likely wouldn’t after.
And this, on such an important game day. Why—?
“Oh!” Her stomach squeezed, and she inched to the toilet, sat down, tears sparking. “Lord, please no, please no…” she whispered.
But it wasn’t long before she faced the same result as nine months ago, staring at clotted blood as she tried to believe that God was good, and this wasn’t her nightmare back again.No, God, no.
This was her child! He or she was not supposed to be brought into the world like some dismembered, unidentifiable blob!Oh God, where are You now…?
Tears trickled down her cheeks as Sarah gasped and silently moaned her way through the next hour, propping herself against the cold, white tiles, watching, heartbroken, as more tiny clumps escaped.Oh God… Oh God... No, no, no…
When the cramps and flow had ceased, she slowly eased her way to the shower, washing away the bright red stain. Sorrow felt like a heavy presence that was waiting for her to stop so it could explode; she had to keep moving to prevent that from happening. Mechanically she dried herself, pulled on fresh underpants, attached a pad, refusing to look down, thinking, thinking ahead to what to do.
Tears leaked as she cleaned up. Should she wake Dan? He had a game today. The team’s last chance to make the playoffs, no less. But he’d want to know. Not that there was anything he could do. It was just like last time, and the time before that. She’d started bleeding, and when she’d presented at the doctor’s clinic, they’d said there was nothing anyone could do.
The doctors. She probably needed to make an appointment. But they’d be closed right now. After pulling on warm pajamas, she wrapped a robe around her and stole out to the kitchen to her phone. She composed a text to her mum:I’m bleeding again.Then hesitated before pressing send.
Was it bad to be telling her mother when she hadn’t even told her husband? But the thought of telling Dan, of having to help him deal with his loss when she could barely even process hers, felt like a weight too heavy.
No. Instead of telling her mum first, she needed a moment to recalibrate her emotions, to get herself calm. Her body would do what it did, and she couldn’t change that. But she could do something different to what she’d done the last few times tragedy had struck. When Stephen had died, she’d locked herself in grief for eighteen months. It was only by going to Muskoka that she’d finally come to terms with things and found a way forward.
And while Muskoka was only two hours away, it wasn’t like they could go there today. Dan had a must-win game to play first. Thank God it was here in Toronto and not an away game. But would he even want to play if he knew this?
No, she couldn’t go to Muskoka, but she still knew things had to be done differently to the last two times, when their disappointment had paralyzed, sending her into another of those emotional tailspins she was all too prone to, while Dan’s grief had hollowed him into becoming a shell of the man he usually was.
“Lord, help us,” she whispered.
She boiled the kettle, taking care to switch it off before it loudly beeped its boiling duty was done, and made a cup of tea. After retrieving her Bible, she stole to the second bedroom and the baby paraphernalia there, stroking a teddy bear blanket that lay waiting for the baby who seemed destined to never live. Her heart wrenched.Why God, why?She wiped her eyes, snatched a tissue, and gently blew her nose. She didn’t want to wake Dan.
The bedside clock’s illuminated hands had shown three a.m. when she’d exited the bed. She knew she couldn’t sleep now, but also knew she couldn’t do what she’d done in the past and just wallow in sorrow.
God, help me, help Dan, help us.
Her mind flashed back to the hospital ward when she’d woken in the early hours of the morning, and had to start dealing with the previous night’s news about her fiancé’s death. Her body felt the same now as it had then. Fragile, like she was made of glass, like she was barely tethered to this earth.
