I never imagined waiting so long to announce that we were finally pregnant with another child. A child that we had been praying to have for the last two years. We announced to our parents when I was 7.5 weeks pregnant with John Charles, and then we told friends and family at 13 weeks. We began telling people I was pregnant with Jillian when I was 9 weeks pregnant.
A miscarriage in the family changes things. We’ve known that for 6 years now ourselves. But an infant loss in the family changes things in a whole other way, especially when you’re already 12 weeks pregnant when it happens. I couldn’t imagine a way to tell our exciting news while my family was still grieving a huge loss. It didn’t seem fair to tell them before 24 weeks and make them anxiously hold their breath until I reached gestational viability. I hope that doesn’t seem selfish on our part that we held on to good news. We were thrilled, but we couldn’t see how to ask others to be excited during their grief.
So we waited. And continued to pray. Prayed for my family as they grieved and learned to live with that grief. Prayed for the new life growing inside me. Prayed for forgiveness from those that aren’t understanding about us choosing to wait to share our news. Prayed for our children to be excited about the gender of this baby. Our daughter has been asking for a baby “gurl” and her mind is made up.
We began praying for another child when Jillian was about a year old. I have always wanted my children close in age, a blessing we received with our first two being 19 months apart. Six months later, we were thrown into this COVID pandemic. Another six months of constantly analyzing COVID exposures and trying to keep our family safe, and I began the most difficult year of teaching I had ever experienced. Halfway through, the school year, I’m planning my sons 4th birthday party and it hit me. John Charles and our next child were going to be at least 4 years and 9 months apart! We spent two months working with my OB, but we had no success. During this time, we learned our family experienced a miscarriage. Such a hard situation and one we’ve walked before. At this point, vaccines would be available to me within a short time, so we decided to make an appointment with our fertility specialist as soon as I received the first vaccine.
We met over a webEx, actually Brandon did, while I listened on the phone. (Wonderful perks of having most sites blocked while at work! We didn’t realize there would be an issue on my work computer until appointment time.) We made a game plan and figured out a sneaky way to get the kids taken care of while we drove to Jackson a few weeks later. The medicine hadn’t worked as well as it needed to, so we had to come back two days later, again, not disclosing our travel plans to others. And then figured out another reason for the kids to need to spend the night just a few days after that while we went for the first IUI. We found out April 26th that the IUI had failed. Later that week, we found out our family would be adding a new baby. It was difficult to be happy in the moment, but I was joyful for them. I was grateful for being told over the Internet instead of in-person. It was easier to hide my emotions, although I know I didn’t hide it as well as I’d have liked.
We started the process over again. Higher dose of medicine. When we went to the specialist, it had worked so much better this time. We had to come back the very next day (two days in a row that we had to figure out childcare without telling why!) He felt much more confident about the IUI and thankfully, it worked.
Now, we’re on the other side of the situation, except it’s so much worse. It’s not a failed IUI but a 24 week stillbirth. It was hard. I have cried so many tears. I had been so excited about cousins being only 12 weeks apart! I had already envisioned play dates and holidays of fun ahead. Dreams that were shattered in an instant with a phone call while we were driving through Ruston. I’ll never forget the grief that washed over me at that moment. I’m honestly not sure which was worse, receiving the news of my miscarriage or this loss.
We decided to tell family when I was 19.5 week along because I could no longer hide my pregnancy bump. The following weekend, we attended the funeral for our precious nephew we won’t meet on this Earth. I felt so guilty and didn’t understand why that baby didn’t survive and mine (so far) had. I already had two healthy babies. Was it fair for me to want more? We were so excited for our precious baby on the way, but the grief some days was so heavy. We survived through prayer and our friends interceding on our behalf. There’s no other way.
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