May There Be Beauty from This Pain.
What follows are the days in the life of a late-pregnancy miscarriage, or stillbirth. Not the story anyone wants to share or have, but our story it is none the less. Please pray, we are no where near healed- this is the hardest pain, the deepest sadness I have ever felt. At times I have wondered if maybe my heart would stop from the grief. There is hope in the future, but right now it is sometimes hard to feel hopeful. Minute by minute we get by. To read from the beginning, go here.
18/Jan/2012
Last night I cried out, in my pain I cried to the Lord. I told Him I missed my boy, that I trusted Him to take care of Shiloh and I just wondered with God about what my boy would have been like. Would he be more like The Husband or more like me? Would he look like either of us? What would he enjoy doing? Would his favourite food be mac and cheese like his brother Oliver?
Test results came in yesterday. We received the news yesterday afternoon that the physical death of Shiloh was due to infection. None of the listed or known ones, not listeria, or toxoplasmosos, or staph infection or strep b, none of those that are known currently to the medical field. It is not an infection that I currently carry in my blood, or that I could have known about. It has no barring on the outcome of future pregnancies- if we choose that. It does not increase our chances of this happening ever again. I asked the doctor if she would give me examples as to what it could have been, just for my mind to wrap around it. She said infection that can kill a baby is everywhere and yet the chances of infection at this stage are completely almost non-existent. She was almost sure the tests were going to come back as no infection, and that Shiloh had a chromosomal issue. She told me that under the right conditions that I could have even just breathed in an infection, that had caused me nothing and yet been the death of my baby. She listed off where the infection could have come from and I was shocked- it could have come from anywhere. It was a fluke, but I know that it wasn't I know that God called my little Shiloh before he could take his first earthly breath, that he called him to not suffer life on this earth, to not endure pain or sadness, to live his days from the start in Heaven.
I find it interesting that all that Shiloh will not have to endure is exactly what my heart aches from right now, sorrow, grief, loss, pain, sadness, Shiloh was spared, I was not.
The news that brought instant hope to me, that I could have not known to do something different, that my body was still strong and that I had not caused any harm to my baby at first filled me with hope for the future, and it still does. But what I was not expecting is that later that night I would cry bitter tears because my baby was perfect, he was beautiful just as my other boys. God took my perfect baby to be with Himself. I am in anguish. Shiloh would have been like my other boys, with some traits from me, some from The Husband- he had been made by God and would have been able to completely function in this world, had God not chosen to take him.
In my brokenheartedness God gave us this song though one of our loving friends, it really is my words exactly, and my heart's cry. It is the pain I have felt, it is the courage that I have embraced, it is the hope that I hold from afar. I like that through the pain there is strength and assurance.
This morning God gave me this word from Him, which Mercy Me made a song of below, very powerful to me right now.
Psalm 139
For the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David.
1 O LORD, You have searched me and known me.
2 You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
3 You comprehend my path and my lying down,
And are acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word on my tongue,
But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
5 You have hedged me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
It is high, I cannot attain it.
7 Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
8 If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall fall[a] on me,”
Even the night shall be light about me;
12 Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,
But the night shines as the day;
The darkness and the light are both alike to You.
13 For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
14 I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;[b]
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
17 How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!
How great is the sum of them!
18 If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand;
When I awake, I am still with You.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me, and know my anxieties;
24 And see if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting.
For the first post: Shiloh Maxwell Canfield
Previous Post: The Father Calls Shiloh by Name
The Father Calls Shiloh by Name
What follows are the days in the life of a late-pregnancy miscarriage, or stillbirth. Not the story anyone wants to share or have, but our story it is none the less. Please pray, we are no where near healed- this is the hardest pain, the deepest sadness I have ever felt. At times I have wondered if maybe my heart would stop from the grief. There is hope in the future, but right now it is sometimes hard to feel hopeful. Minute by minute we get by. To read from the beginning, go here.
16/Jan/2012 (day seven )
I am just feeling angry today. Not directed anywhere really and everywhere all at the same time. I don't want to be angry, it makes me feel yucky. I've felt numb as well, not ready to face the world. The thought of grocery shopping scares me, most group settings if I think about them I get anxious. I know it will take time but I am having a hard time with the person to person situations. I feel highly apprehensive about what people will say or do and if it will set me off crying when I don't want to. I just don't want to be crying in front of every person I see. I feel so human today, so broken, so sad. My emotions are a wreck. I have had to apologise several times for being rude. My heart aches, my little one is not with me.
Today a friend sent me a verse that she was praying for me. Psalm 147:3, "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds", which is really good--but it was verses 4 and 5 that soothed my soul, "He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name", my loving Father is calling my star by his name, Shiloh. And then the last bit, "Great is the Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit". I am writing those down and going to carry it around in my pocket today. I love that God is calling my son by his name. Because I was never able to call him by name so that he would know it was his, to me it is important to know that God cares enough about him to call him by name. And it is even more amazing that He spoke that to me today, to make me feel better.
17/Jan/2012 (day eight)
It is an odd feeling to long to feel better, but to be terrified that then you will forget- both seem to cause grief. Yesterday I stopped taking sudafed, which the doctor gave me to stop the milk production--it just wasn't working and I thought that maybe it was not letting me sleep. After sleeping two hours 2 nights ago I figured I should just try it. I am so thankful, so thankful that my prayers were answered. God had mercy and yesterday my pain eased up a little, and last night I slept all night. Life is easier with sleep.
My mom flew in from Spain today and is helping with the house and the boys, right now I am watching them play monopoly on the floor. I am blessed. God knows right when I need it and He supplies me in His love. Things are coming together, the pain today is much better, I slept, and my boys are being loved on. The sadness is still here, but it has morphed from loud sobs to a quiet longing. Still sometimes a thought or a baby item or a dream I had will trigger the deep pain to rise to the surface again. Yet through it all Christ is my strength, He is my hope, my Healer, my Redeemer. God knows my exact pain, yet He did not withhold His own Son from death, He paid my ransom even before I cared, before I was born. God gets this pain.
How can I say God is faithful when things are good for me and change my mind when things don't go as I had thought? If God is faithful, He is always faithful, not just when I feel like things are going my way. I have been thinking about our little Shiloh, and really how blessed we are to live in a country that caught the death before his body had decayed and infection had killed me. We also have food to eat, a place to sleep, our house is a safe place to be. I can think of 3/4 of the world where the mammas literally watch as their children starve to death, day by day, or die because infection caused by the polluted water that is all they have to drink. If I believe in a God who is faithful to me and to all, circumstance is irrelevant, pain is irrelevant, he owes me nothing to earn my trust. I don't know answers, I don't know why hard things happen. What I know is that God is always good, always faithful, always love, always my healer, always my joy, always - even when I don't understand.
I love this song, a dear friend sent it and it is the one I have been drawn to for the last couple days.
Previous post: Loving Shiloh Maxwell Canfield
Next post: The Father Calls Shiloh by Name
First Post: Shiloh Maxwell Canfield
Loving Shiloh Maxwell Canfield
What follows are the days in the life of a late-pregnancy miscarriage, or stillbirth. Not the story anyone wants to share or have, but our story it is none the less. Please pray, we are no where near healed- this is the hardest pain, the deepest sadness I have ever felt. At times I have wondered if maybe my heart would stop from the grief. There is hope in the future, but right now it is sometimes hard to feel hopeful. Minute by minute we get by. To read from the beginning, go here.
14/Jan/2012 (day five)
Today is hard too. My body is crying out for our little baby boy and producing milk for Shiloh. I have shed so many tears over this- more than anything to this point. However, now I have realised it is almost healing in a weird way, that my body cries out just as much as my heart for my little boy. The doctor thought that it would not be likely that I would lactate, but like the rest of this journey, unlikely has gone from meaning "it won't happen to me" to "Woah, I wasn't expecting this!". I have cried out to the Lord and begged for mercy. Being engorged with no option is insane. The doctor perscribed sudaffed, icing and wrapping myself really tight. This was not the way things were meant to be. I miss Shiloh.
This journey has been the hardest thing I have ever done, but through it I have felt the most loved I have ever felt. I weep as I hear from you all, I am just so blessed. God's arms are around me, and I feel he has an army of people to show me love in a tangible way. I have never been so overwhelmed by love, not ever. Each of you who have dropped by my home, brought me meals, sent flowers, emailed me to share your pain, commented on my last post, messaged me on facebook, or called-- It has meant more than you can ever know, you are love to me, it is absolutely beautiful. I am not alone.
God's grace really does rise up in these times to meet my need. My sorrow is great, and so is His love for me.
I just ordered some jewelry with all three of my little boys' names on it Jackson, Oliver and Shiloh. I can't wait to get it in the mail. I would have never had 'mommy jewlery' before, I admit it was way too cheesy and I am around my kids at all times so, why? Now it is different, one of my boys is not with me and I long for him. Pre- stillbirth, I hardly grasped the preciousness that life is made of. Through death I have come to understand the meaning of life. I have grown in patience with my boys, the loss has made me understand love, and what it should be so much better. My tears still come, mostly they are a waterfall for an hour or two and then I am in decent shape for a little while and then I cry myself a river. My tears are not in vein, they are liquid love for my baby boy.
15/Jan/2012 (day six)
By now I am sure there are already sceptics who are rolling their eyes and thinking we should be over this. Before this happened to us I may have been a little more compassionate than that, but not much. When we first found out if you had said that I would have punched you in the face and now, all I have to say is- if you think you could do better, go ahead and try. I challenge you to loose a child and then make any sort of judgement call on grief, I promise you that you will not have any judgement left in you. Brokenness will overtake any previous critical bone in your body and make you a better person, it has to me and it would to you.
When will I write about something else? Not sure. Currently this consumes me, when it does not I will stop.
Yesterday I picked up "Heaven is for Real" by Todd Burpo. I am not sure yet what to think of it, however I know that I wouldn't have even considered it before. I am also looking into "Heaven" by Randy Alcorn. Before Shiloh packed his bags and headed there I had a little, but very little interest in heaven. Now that he is there it only seems natural to find out more. If you have any suggestions of different books that you have loved through grief I would love to read them. Not books about grieving, as I am not quite ready to read about others and their grief, but just if you have one that has helped you learn more about heaven I would love to read it.
I mentioned to The Husband yesterday that I could currently be compared to one of those goldfish, you know, the ones with the HUGE bulging eyes that are bubbles out of their heads?? I have cried so much I wonder if my eyelids will ever be normal again. I may have done permanent damage.
I am up really early this morning. Any of you who know me well know I sleep. I do that well, or did it well. I don't know exactly how much sleep I got last night but it was very little. It is very uncomfortable to lay down when my breasts are in such pain. This physical angst does make Shiloh's life and death more real, and I have shed more tears over my milk coming in and having no baby here on earth to feed than about anything else. It is agony, in the purest form.
I am sharing a song below. This has been my song for a long time, it is my favourite song, when we first found out I wanted to sing it but couldn't bear it, even to think about choosing to say anything positive about it all was just not possible. Now I can think it in my head but forming the words is really hard due to sobbing. I think there is progress there, a progress in the heart which is more important than forming the words. I find incredible strength in this song and I want to share it with you as well. No matter what happens in my life I will bless and not curse the Name of the Lord. He is my strength and all we can cling to.
For the next post: The Father Calls Shiloh by Name
For previous post : Shiloh Maxwell Canfield
Shiloh Maxwell Canfield
What follows are the first 4 days in the life of a late-pregnancy miscarriage, or stillbirth. Not the story anyone wants to share or have, but our story it is none the less. Please pray, we are no where near healed- this is the hardest pain, the deepest sadness I have ever felt. At times I have wondered if maybe my heart would stop from the grief. There is hope in the future, but right now it is sometimes hard to feel hopeful. Minute by minute we get by.
10/ Jan/ 2012 (day one)
Today we found out that our little baby, the one we had tried for for over 3 years and then conceived had died. At 5 months the body does not miscarry on its own, it will only do that in the first trimester, so it makes for a much more complicated process. It is pretty much like going in for a normal scheduled medical inducement, but nothing about it is normal. Words cannot describe my grief.
Sometimes I think maybe I shared to much, maybe put myself in a position of discomfort, but all in all I don't wish that things had been different on my part. If I am to share in the joys, I am to be transparent in our sadness as well. Loosing is the downside of life. Many times pain causes the growth we could not have grown of ourselves, it is what makes us more compassionate, more willing to love and slower to judge. To say that this was not a blessing would not be true. Each moment of the pregnancy since the first day I have loved my baby. I knew this child.
Death does take its toll. It does bring sorrow, however I feel that it will grow in me whatever I nurture, it will cause growth in compassion and love or fear and bitterness. I have a choice to make, sometimes many more than several times a day.
11/Jan/2012 (day two)
Loosing an extremely anticipated and already loved little baby is a very hard thing to do, but we didn't loose him/her. I know right where to look in heaven once we get there. No matter how sad we are, no matter the pain, my little baby is with the father who loves the best. I sense the lack, my baby is in perfect peace. Selfishly I long for the little one to be with me, but what better place to be than in the arms of a perfect father? My baby knew no sadness, endured no pain. Still, as I open my hands and give the babe over I honestly don't feel better. I think in time I will.
God does give and take away, and His timing is perfect. I wish I had a huge amazing revelation to make this journey all worth its while, honestly though I am just sad and feeling broken and that is all I can share as of yet. Your prayers are appreciated, needed is a better word. I feel a gap, a hole.
Tomorrow I will go in to the hospital, I will be induced and the baby will be delivered. This is so different than I ever expected. I asked the doctor what the chances of a miscarriage this late in pregnancy. She said less than half a percent of miscarriages happen now. It is the most unlikely time during pregnancy she said, the highest during the first trimester, and the middle of the pregnancy is the absolute safest time, the chances of complication increase slightly at the end again. Not sure if that makes it easier or harder...it is what it is.
12/Jan/2012 (day three)
Today is the day. I am so scared of so many things- but come what may, I will trust in the Lord. For the record though: This really sucks!
__
At the hospital:
I could not have wished for a better doctor, or a more responsive and dedicated nurse. I checked in at 7:30 and induction began at 8ish. Labor lasted just around 10 hours- which was much faster than even the fastest estimation of 17 hours (or more likely 30 hours). I had geared up for the worst and however bad it was and hard, I really felt God's arms around me consistently brining peace the whole way through.
We held the baby, he was small, but incredible. His fingers and toes completely formed. Even that was easier than I was expecting. I know though that when we head home the waves of grief will start lapping in again. But for right now, I feel a moment of rest and peace.
This is the email we just sent out:
Dearest Friends and Family,
Today was the birthday of our little boy Shiloh Maxwell Canfield. Bethany had a medically induced miscarriage, after we found out on Monday that the baby was no longer alive. The doctor was shocked as were we, as miscarriage this far along only happens in less than one percent of pregnancies. We are extremely sad,
We had a hard time picking a name at the hospital today. We chose Shiloh - one of its meanings is peace, and that is very fitting, because our God is a God of peace that surpasses understanding. We don't understand why things happened this way, but in the midst of it we have incredible peace.
Love you all,
Brad and Bethany
13/Jan 2012 (day four)
We named our little boy Shiloh, which we had never considered before, but as we sat at the hospital Brad thought of it. I knew it meant something about peace, and that seemed fitting- but it is the other meanings that we didn't know that get me now. We don't have a good word in the English language but it would be: "Wished For", or a word that expresses supplicatory potential like, 'Oh, I wish that...' or He who is to be sent. After learning these meanings, I know that God in his mercies placed that name in our heart. On our part 'wished for' and yet one who 'was to be sent' so early on.
No one wants to go through this, no one would choose this and I can't say how much it hurts. It will not be quick, there are no promises of when the pain will settle, I never knew the compassion that I should have for women in this situation. I was as well clueless to this kind of pain. It isn't a sorrow that most have endured, to be induced at the hospital- many hours later to bear a baby that will never cry or breathe. This is a child who most people would unknowingly say we had not known. It is a clueless assumption though, as I have never wept so bitterly even for those I knew and held and loved on for years, for those people lived their lives and died of old age- my baby that I held for 5 months was much harder than I would ever have known to loose.
My grief comes in waves, today is much harder than yesterday. Tomorrow could be better.
To continue reading, click here:
The Days that Follow a Stillbirth: Loving Shiloh Maxwell Canfield (days 5 and 6)
The Latest Posts:
- Mrs. Wanda Wilson’s Spicy Pickled Asparagus {Recipe}
- Off To The Oregon Coast
- To Open My Hands
- The Strength that Moves Me
- He Wished for Snow for Christmas, He Got it For His Birthday.
- Oh I Wonder, How I Wonder…Who Would You Be, Shiloh?
- Reminding My Heart to Be Thankful
- What Love Looks Like
I (adoringly) HEART—>
