The Worst Day

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Monday morning I woke up early.  Mike, the guy that lives with us, was headed home for a week and needed a ride to the airport.  I had a flat tire, so we took his car.  He didn't know anything that was going on as we were waiting to tell other people until after my mother in law's birthday.  On the way back, I had no clue how to work his sound system, so I started pushing buttons until music started playing.  A worship song I had never heard before came on.  The lyrics spoke of our God who sees our heartache and is our hope, of our God who feels our pain and is our justice.

I had a good talk with God on that drive.  I promised Him that I wouldn't be angry with Him no matter what the doctor said and He reminded me that He is good and would not let anything happen to us unless it was for good, ultimately.

When I got home, I called my doctor's office and talked to nurse Mary.  I firmly believe that nurse Mary was sent by God Himself.  She was kind, understanding, compassionate and did not beat around the bush.  She schedule an ultrasound for me at 11am and said "Jenna, you will either see your baby's heartbeat and know that all is well, or you will talk to me.  Either way, you're going to be ok, sweetie."  I called my mom and she was able to leave work to take me in.  Hubs had, in a turn of events, started working at a new program which started at 11am.  It was his first day, and he couldn't call off.

Just before Hubs had to leave for work, I started bleeding heavily.  In that moment, I knew.  I knew I wasn't going to see a heartbeat that day, and that I would be talking to Mary.  I cried, my husband held me.  We mourned together for a moment, then it was time to go.

My mom was arriving to take me to the ultrasound, which Mary still wanted me to go to.  We went, and waited.  Waiting rooms suck.  Uncomfortable chairs, the lingering smell of antiseptic, and a ton of women coming and going.  Bethany, my ultrasound tech, took me back.  I didn't realize at first that my mom didn't follow me.  She put the goo on my stomach, and pushed down, searching for my uterus.  The picture came up.  Gray shadows surrounding a black circle.  An empty black circle.  She measured my ovaries, looked at my kidneys, then told me she wanted to do an internal ultrasound.  I went to get my mom.  I knew there was no baby, and I just couldn't stand to hear that from some strange woman's mouth alone in a darkened room wearing some flimsy robe.

There were more pictures, "inconclusive results", and some vaguely comforting words from Bethany.  I talked to Mary on the phone and she scheduled blood work.  Bethany told me they couldn't rule out an ectopic pregnancy, which means the baby is growing, but has attached somewhere outside of the uterus. 

I cried.  Our baby was dead.  There was no life in my belly, no cute little nose growing, no eyes taking shape.  I would not need to decorate a nursery, or buy maternity clothes, or make a blanket.

The rest of the day was about as awful as you'd expect.  I had to call my husband, get blood taken by a girl who had no clue what was going on and looked at me like I had some strange disease as I cried when she took my blood, tell my dad, email my pastor.  Mom took me home, made me popcorn, and we watched Mary Poppins, my go-to bad day movie.  We made dinner, and Hubs came home.  We talked, ate, and watched TV for a while so we wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

Somehow, we slept.  That day came to an end.  Time moved on.  The sun rose the next day.  The worst day of my life came to an end.