Hope After Loss

Hope After Loss

May 14th, 2012. That was the day that changed the course of my life forever.  It was the day that changed who I am and who I will forever be.  I remember everything about that gorgeous Monday like it was yesterday.  I woke up feeling normal.  But as the day progressed, normal smells started to irritate me.  The thought of my favorite foods made me sick.  And the exhaustion hit me like a freight train.

I was officially seven days past my embryo transfer via In vitro fertilization (IVF) and I knew the possibility of life growing, developing, and nestling inside of my womb was real.  And so later in the afternoon, I found myself feeling hopeful in Wal-Mart. I was dashing in between the aisles of shampoo and body wash, trying to avoid anyone I knew as I raced to “the aisle”.  Once I arrived, I made one quick glance to the left, then to the right, ensuring that the coast was clear, and with no one I knew in sight, I quickly grabbed the box of First Response Early Responder pregnancy tests.  I quickly stashed them underneath the loaf of bread (which I was only using as a cover up), and bolted to the nearest self-checkout lane.

I rushed home and scurried to the bathroom with my pants already unbuttoned and nearly to the floor.  My heart was pounding.  My hands were shaking.  I was so nervous, yet excited.  I remember standing there, anxiously watching and waiting.  But friends, I didn’t need to wait long because within seconds, not minutes, I saw it.  I saw the two glorious pink lines that my heart had been praying to see for years.  And I crumbled.  I slid my back against the wall and sank to the floor weeping because it worked.  IVF had worked and I was finally going to be a mommy.

But that moment?  This date in history?  Those feelings I felt?  The thoughts that raced through my mind? They are often tainted.  Because the two lines that represented life growing inside of me? Never made it into my arms.  And the announcement I had planned to make to my family?  Well…it never happened. Unless of course you consider me telling my mom I was pregnant and miscarrying all in the same sentence.

And it’s hard.  And it sucks.  It really sucks.  But despite the pain, despite the sadness, and despite the dull ache in my heart that tries to seep its way into this day, as well as many other days, I choose to not focus on it.  I choose to not dwell on what I have lost, but all that I have gained.  Because while I lost the opportunity to hold my miracle in my arms on earth today, I still gained a sweet, precious baby waiting for me to hold one day in heaven.  A baby that I have hope to rock, sing sweet lullabies to, and possibly even have the opportunity to watch grow.  And that my sweet friends is enough reason for me to look pass the pain I feel today and celebrate in the hope I have for the future.

With Love

 

To read my full infertility story, click here.


I would love to get connected with you on a more personal level. So if you liked this post, pass it on.  And then click here to find Waiting for Baby Bird on Facebook.  Or come follow me on Instagram at @waitingforbabybird.  I seriously can’t wait to “meet” you!

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33 thoughts on “Hope After Loss

  1. I’m sorry you had to experience that. I remember those same feelings exactly then just to be crushed with miscarriages. It truly devastating. I love your optimism through this though. I named my angel babies so when I meet them in heaven I could refer to them by name.

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  2. Thank you for sharing this piece of your story. I just miscarried last month and the feelings of pain and loss are still raw. My eyes welled up as I read your encouraging words reminding me that my baby is waiting for me in Heaven.

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    • Oh sugars! I can still feel the pain I felt a month after mine when I go back to that time. And you are right. It is still so raw. Hang in there. You will get through this. And no matter what? You will always be a mommy. And one day? You will hold them. Rock them. Sing to them. And just love them for all of eternity. Sending you hugs! Xo

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    • Hey girl! I was so excited to see a comment from you. I feel like I hadn’t heard from you in forever. And girl…I am so sorry you know all too well what this feels like. But I can’t wait to one day be sitting with you in heaven rocking our babies. Love ya girl! xo

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  3. Elisha, I just started reading your posts as of yesterday evening when I was certain I had finally conceived, only to be awoke this morning by the wonderful Aunt Flow. The immense peace you brought over my heart made me focus less on being discouraged by this morning and so much more open and aware to God’s love and mercy that awaits us all. You have been on my heart since I opened your first blog and my prayers are with you. Thank you for doing this. Really. It’s so easy to feel alone in this situation, but you have made that a thing of the past by shedding light in all the dark corners of this issue. SO incredibly thankful for your emotional vulnerability and resiliency. God bless you and your precious family.

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    • Oh hun! You don’t even know how much this comment meant to me. I actually just prayed yesterday about this blog…my waiting for baby bird facebook page…and wondering if I should continue with it because I was doubting if my words were helping anyone. You my dear, were the answer to my prayers! God used YOU to speak to me and I am ever so thankful for that! Please know that I am praying for you right now and I am believing that God is bigger than any problem we will ever face and His word is more real and true than any circumstance or diagnosis we will ever be given. His love…His grace…His word trumps anything. Much love you! xo

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  4. Pingback: What a Beautiful Mess |

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