Last weekend we had a garage sale. I went inside to the bathroom, and after using the toilet saw blood in it. And not just a spot or two. Enough to make my face drain of color and my hands start shaking.

I woke up and the mattress beneath me was soaked. We had dragged that mattress into the living room to change up my scenery from the bedroom. I got up to go to the bathroom, and saw that the soaked part was bright red. The only time I got off the toilet for the next hour was to stand in the shower for a while, because my back hurt so bad that I thought the water might help ease the pain.

Jared was still in the garage. I stood at the top of the stairs and looked at him through the screen door, thinking ‘How can we do this again?’ He finally came inside, and I wept. I called the ob’s office in hysterics. The nurse called me sweetheart, and said the doc would call within 30 minutes. He did, and told me in about eight different ways to calm down. He said that with how healthy everything had been it was highly unlikely that anything was wrong, and that I should just take it easy and go in for an ultrasound on Monday.

We called the nurseline, and as I bled Jared talked to them. “Yes, they told us we were losing the baby about a week earlier. No, I don’t know if I am filling a pad every 15 minutes. OK, we’ll wait to come in until that’s the case.” By the time they finally said we should come in, we couldn’t even make it to the ER, which was an hour and a half drive from camp, so we stopped at the hospital in town. They ‘packed’ me up so we’d make it to the hospital. When we got there, Jared parked in the ambulance bay and ran in to get me a wheelchair.

Somehow I made it through the weekend. My girlfriend covered my shift at work, and I laid in bed. On Sunday got out of the house and went over to my grandparents, where my sister lives, and she, my mom and husband planted the flowers that go in the beds each year. I helped a little, but mostly sat inside, reclining in grandpa’s chair, worrying. The ob opened Monday at 8am; I called at 8:02. We scheduled an ultrasound for 9:30.

I only remember a few things. The pain in my back relaxing with a lot of morphine. The bustling of nurses, doctors, and surgeons. Asking for my phone so I could see all the tweets and facebook posts full of love and prayers. Jared staying with me all the way into the OR, where I had a blessed d&c. Waking up without any pain and without my baby. Getting home exactly 12 hours after we had left, and thinking of all that can happen in such short hours.

The ultrasound tech turned out to be a friend of a friend from church. She said she knew how scared we were, and then she showed us our baby. He or she was waving at us from within my womb. Waving. With the tiniest fingers ever. Totally fine, putting on a show, letting mama know that he/she’s fine.

The memories are so close to my heart, and to the surface… it’s been a true struggle to realize that this is not last time. But step by step, my trust grows in the One who already knows who He is knitting together within me. And someday, soon, I’ll know deeply that this is not last time.

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