Five of Five (to read from the beginning scroll down to January 4)
It would not be an exaggeration to say the next 3 days were agonizingly worrisome. I couldn’t easily stop those pinpricks of fear. What if I miscarry while I’m speaking? What if the baby’s death creates an emergency situation and the Spiritual Retreat for these high-schoolers gets all messed up because of me? Where will I be hospitalized? Will I be able to miscarry naturally or will I have to have a D & C? I told Dale, “I’m more upset about inconveniencing this camp than I am about this baby.”
To which Dale told me, “You don't need to focus there. The loss of this baby’s life is much more important than missing a speaking event.” That gave me the freedom to put most of my worries to rest. I stopped feeling anxious about how I'd be messing up our event.
I didn’t have time to journal those days, but I realized that I was not angry or disgusted or anxious, I was merely wondering, all day long and whenever I woke up in the night. I called a few close friends and asked them to pray for me. I realized that telling someone you are pregnant but that you might lose the baby all in the same breath is NOT FUN, not fun at all.
One friend asked me what my intuition was, “I feel this baby is just fine, I said. I think God is allowing this so we both get really invested in this child from day one.” To which she encouraged me that often the mother’s intuitions are spot on.
I still wondered.
On Sunday, three days after my appointment, Dale and I began the long drive from Steamboat, CO to
We were on the road, Dale was on a phone call, but I just announced, “We need to head to a grocery store, now.” I needed some supplies before I headed into camp. I adjusted the GPS.
We pulled into an Albertson’s parking lot in Temecula, only 1 hour before we were "on" at camp.
What with that short shopping trip and our general befuddled feelings we managed to miss our exit and miss orientation (our first talk with the teens). I felt awash in failure.
According to Dr. Mary, spotting wasn’t the sign of miscarriage, but heavy, bright red bleeding. I wore the pillow-sized pads I had bought and waited.
We pulled into camp, unable to really explain the reasons for our tardiness and began to mix and mingle with the 100 kids. As I saw them I thought, “Lord, this is a chance to mother… even if you’ve allowed our child to die, these teens are alive and needy. Help me love them."
With that I dipped deep into the living water and began to work.