Last week I began sharing our experiences of going through the pain and recovery (if you can call it that) of three miscarriages. As anyone who has gone through this agony knows, you never stop thinking about it. Even when you finally celebrate the birth of a child, you still think “One of my children was due on November 7” so when that days rolls around each year, the ache in your heart never goes away.

But to continue, I shared the story of our second miscarriage which occurred after only a few weeks. The second time was much harder. We had seen the heartbeat. Heard our doctor say that it looks good. Then the devastation. Over the next several weeks, I remember finding ways to get out of meeting people, not wanting to remember and re-live the pain. I would go to church but avoid eye contact and quickly leave when service was over so I didn’t have to go through awkward conversations with people. And for those who didn’t know we had a miscarriage, it was agonizing to hear them say “How are you feeling?” or “How is the pregnancy coming?” Then I would lower my eyes and confess that I had lost another baby.

Yes, it was all on me. My body. The guilt that you feel is overwhelming. I remember my doctor urging me not to blame myself. I had asked about working out. Could that have caused this? Maybe it was my allergy medicine. I knew I should have stopped taking that sooner. Or maybe it was stress. I need to relax more. The guilt can be overwhelming.

And much to our dismay (yes it should have been joy but with our track record we weren’t hopeful), one month later we found out again that I was pregnant (OK, I still don’t understand the ovulation thing!). With a few tests, the doctor pointed out that I was not producing enough progesterone which feeds and sustains the baby until the second trimester when the umbilical cord is developed and able to feed the baby. He started me on supplements and we continued our prayers.

The first several weeks we held our breath. We took a risk and shared the news with our friends and family asking them to pray as well. When I finally reached the end of the first trimester, we were ecstatic! Could this finally be happening? Would we finally hold a child in our hands? Fortunately, you know the answer. Our beautiful Colt was born later that year.

After talking and praying, we really felt that Colt would be our only child. With me working and Joe going to school, we felt at peace in our hearts about our decision. Then one night I had a dream. Not the Martin Luther King speech kind of dream, but a meaningful dream nonetheless. Simply put, I dreamed that my sister Lois and I were pregnant at the same time. This wasn’t an earth-shattering dream because in fact, my sister and I were pregnant while I was carrying Colt. She had her baby 3 weeks before Colt was born. So when I thought about the dream the next day it was really no big deal.

Then over the next couple of days, strange things happened. I was getting my nails done and the manicurist asked “Are you planning on having more children?” I informed her that “no, we weren’t.” The next day I was getting my hair done. The stylist asked “Are you planning to have more” and I informed her “no, Colt is going to be an only child.” I remember being asked that same question by at least 2-3 other people. It started me thinking, and praying. After getting up the courage that weekend, Joe and I were lying in bed as I began by saying “What would you say if I suggested that we have another child?” I looked around for the defibrillator then realized he was going to be OK after he calmed down. “I thought we had already decided this?” he pleaded. After sharing my dream and telling him what had been on my heart, he opened up his heart to the idea again.

But as you know, it is never that easy. Last time I got pregnant right away. It seemed easy. Now, I was almost 40. As the months slipped away, we began to think that my dream was just that, a dream. UNTIL, my sister called me after Christmas (6 months after my dream) to tell me that she was pregnant! Well my dream must have been a premonition! We couldn’t give up the faith. And sure enough, a couple months later we found out that I was pregnant again. Taking my daily supplements, we were confident that this pregnancy was a blessing from God and “meant to be.”

I sailed through the first several weeks, just waiting to get past the first trimester so the nausea would diminish and I could concentrate on preparing for this new child. So much to do! We were planning and planning. Then, out of no where it hit us again. The spotting and bleeding. This was just too much! Not again. I had a dream. This was meant to be. Not again.

This time I was 11 weeks along so waiting to completely end the pregnacy and let everything pass was not only physically hard, but equally as hard on my emotions. To say that I don’t struggle with “why did this happen” would be to lie. I still hurt. I know all the words of comfort. They help sometime. But it still hurts and I will never forget.

Thanks for my wonderful husband who planted a tree last year so that we can remember with hope.