what a waste...

I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry anymore.

I now have four living children and four dead children. And I'm not sure if I'm upset about that or still too shocked to feel much of anything. Surprise pregnancies are just that - surprising, unexpected and even a bit disturbing if you're not ready for all that again. But, I truly felt like I was taking everything in stride - "If this is what God wants for me, even though I'm not so sure about it - then it will be okay."

Only it wasn't. And now it's not. I went it to every doctor's appointment thinking it would be okay either way - okay if the baby lived and okay if the baby died. I wasn't thrilled to be pregnant, even though I did my best to accept it. And now on this side of it, I'm not thrilled to have lost another child either. So, it really wasn't okay either way.

I kind of figured that if God can miraculously keep a baby alive in spite of heavy bleeding, then somehow this child was MEANT to survive - not for just three more weeks, but for a full-term pregnancy. How wrong I was to believe in the possibility of a long-term miracle.

So right now I can be grateful that I don't have to purchase a new car seat. I don't have to give up my office for a nursery. Our entire family will still be able to fit in the truck. And I guess I don't have to go through the pain of labor. Honestly, it's a pretty good list of things that I'm legitimately grateful for, but a list that I hope you can hear the sarcasm behind.

Thinking back over the last three weeks (two of which I have been completely unable to do much of anything), I can't help but feel like everything was such a waste. It was a complete waste of time to baby myself and still lose a baby. It was a complete waste of time and resources to have people dote on me, bringing meals, cleaning the house, cooking for us and doing the grocery shopping. It seems like a waste to share my emotions, fears and needs with other people, only to have to turn around and tell them, well, sorry the baby didn't make it in spite of all your good wishes and thoughts and prayers.

I really feel like everyone, myself included, just wasted three weeks for nothing. I am carrying a baby who died anyway. Died in spite of my bed rest. Died in spite of prayers for healing and safety. Died in spite of a miraculous survival at eight weeks. And died in spite of a mother's body that is fertile enough to conceive, but not fruitful enough to bear the harvest.

I keep telling myself that it will be okay, but I don't think it will. I don't feel the anger like I did eight months ago when I lost baby number 3. What I do feel now with the loss of baby 4 is betrayed - both by my body and by God. I just don't understand how he can allow conception, allow a miracle and then allow it to quietly slip away.

Of course, I don't know that the baby quietly slipped away - I'm saying that for my sanity. For all I know, this child could have died a horrific suffocating death being smothered by my body not allowing it enough oxygen, nutrients or whatever else it needed and obviously didn't receive.

Solomon was right when he said everything is meaningless - a chasing after the sun. I call it a waste.