Thursday, December 31, 2009

(mis)Carried Away

{Lucy Snowe Photography}

With one phone call, I found myself to be a member in a new group. I found that I could participate in forums, join support groups, and seek advice on how to cope.

One phone call.

The thing is, I can't be a part of the forums. I can't read how other women feel or have felt. I can't seek advice on how to cope because, well, I'm certain that I am in between what is real and just a dream.

Last Tuesday I believed I could hope my way out of a situation. I believed that staying positive would buy me a one way ticket out. Mid sentence and loss of verbal ability, I knew - hoping was over and it was done. I felt the beginning of the end. As in a movie, I collided (literally) with a waiter and as he balanced his plate of food, my insides flipped onto the floor. I wanted someone to fix it. I wanted someone to make it right, however, all I could do was wait.

It was a night of restless sleep. I wandered our small home and fought the urge to know NOW. To have someone confirm what I knew was slipping away. I waited until the morning and at 8:47 it was confirmed:
"I don't believe you need to go to your ultrasound appointment. You are having a miscarriage." My world went a little fuzzy as the doctor's words continued. I just needed to breathe. I needed someone to remind me how.

What do you do when you learn that life that you had kept a secret for a Christmas reveal was gone before anyone could know he or she was a reality in your heart?
What was I supposed to do?!

I cried out loud. I cried hard and buckled half broken to the floor but I was desperate to worship. I would NOT surrender my hope for His goodness. I would proclaim my love for Him and His plan in spite of this unbelievable ache. I turned the music on. Wanting to soak myself in music that would help me cry I claimed this moment as God's, turned worship music on, and let truth reign. He would be victorious and I would survive what I still don't understand.

It was December 23, 2009.
As we prepared our homes and hearts for a season of celebrating the birth of Christ, I mourned the loss of my 8 week old secret. While I thought I would never have the chance to see another pregnancy test come back positive after the one I took on December 9th (this would be our last addition), I had no idea that I would just stop being pregnant. I would walk with this internal wound that would persist for days and not a soul would ever know what I was losing.

I wasn't a victim of a playground accident and would wear a cast to visibly show my pain. What I would do is join a rank of women who walk with a loss they feel slipping away every second for days and no one can see the injury. I would curl up inside and pretend that I was ok. I would attend Christmas parties and be who people wanted to see. I would hug and say Merry Christmas wishing you could know but begging for you not to. This was embarrassing. This was no one's business. I would fake it til' I made it and cry only in the arms of one man who would hold me together. I wanted to hide and shout to the world, "Don't tell me statistics on how normal it is because this isn't normal for me. Don't tell me you're sorry because I will absolutely fall apart. Don't--just don't... I won't survive what you're saying."

It's almost over now. The aching and contracting- it must be close to over. Soon I can bury this. I can plan for the day I will meet that baby in heaven. I can think in my heart that my healthy and perfect son now has a guardian angel. I can praise Him because "Oh no, He never lets go through the calm and through the storm. He never lets go through every high and every low, no He never lets go of me."

I can give myself the time to grieve, I can ask my husband to let me talk, and I can hide this from my physical world. I will unravel here and work to understand what all of this is. I will not tell myself I am required to speak of this with anyone before I do what I have to heal- write. This pain isn't anyone else's to own or define their relationship to me by. This is my ache and one day at a time, in my own way, I'll make my way out in true glory.
Be patient with me....a polite pleading and a vehement demand.


  1. Praying for you, beautiful Allegra. Love your writing, even when it's difficult subject matter. You have a MAJOR gift (well, lots of them!)xoxox

  2. HUGE, GIANT hugs...wrapped in mountains of prayers!!...and you are so right...we all deal with our loss in our own way...may you find peace in our Father's promise that we will meet again...some days that promise is the only thing that keeps me going!
    Many, Many Blessings dear friend!

  3. I stalk your blog, but never write...until today. I couldn't close the page until I reached out to you. Dear one, I spent my entire life wanting to be a 'part of' something, wanting to belong. At 34 I joined this club to which you now belong. Praying for you, aching with you in your silent pain. Let the grief surround you, it is a loss like no other. Do not run from that which can draw you closer to the One who too knows your loss. May God wrap his arms around you....

  4. I'm sorry, girl. I joined that group February 2008. You don't ever forget. {hugs}

  5. Of course, there's no right thing to say...but I'm praying for you. Your words and your worship are such a beautiful way to honor your precious one.

  6. Sending big hugs and huge prayers your way. Not apart of that club, but a different version. Grieve as you need to, only you will know what is best for you.

  7. Sending love and hugs your way.....xxoo

  8. Prayers and hugs coming your way sweet girl.

  9. No words...but love and prayers. Eloquentaly written. I know others will find your blog who have gone through this, read it and feel some sense of peace and understanding. You really have such a gift to write. I'm sorry it had to be about something so heartbreaking.

  10. Pryaing for peace for you friend.

  11. I'm so sorry sweetie. My dear friend just had a miscarriage and I had no idea how painful and awful the whole thing was. My prayers are going out to you today. May God blanket you with His peace and flood your life with new blessings.

  12. I also joined that group several times. I had one miscarriage before my Chelsea was born in 91 and then went through 4 others afterwards. I was ready to give up call it quits. I never wanted to have to go through that pain any longer. Then when I thought I was getting sick with the Flu in 97, I heard the Dr say, no flu, your having a baby. I was in denial the entire pregnancy thinking, here we go again. Only in my 7th month did I finally think that I was really going to have this baby. Megan was born in Nov 97. My prayers and thoughts are with you and know that God surrounds you!
    Thank you for your wonderful is truly inspiring:)
    ~Take care

  13. I'm so sorry. You and your family are in my prayers. Don't lose your hope in Him. Wish I could give you a big hug.

  14. oh sweet allegra
    i am so so so sorry
    just so sorry

    i have been there too
    please know i am praying for you
    please know i pray your tender heart feels loved
    not only by those who can tangibly hug you

    but also
    by those of us 'far away' in miles
    but not in spirit

  15. Your words inspire me. Through this tough time you are giving me hope in my circumstance. I need to follow in your footsteps and surrender to Him. I am praying for you...

  16. I am sending you a huge cyber hug Allegra ~ and you know I give awesome hugs! I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers and will mourn your loss ~ as I my friend have been there and I know the emptiness it brings. Keep the faith ~ chin up. xo

  17. you have my prayers,

  18. Oh honey, if I could hug you right now I would...

    Sending you love and prayers,

  19. I am so sorry you have to go through this. I have lost many babies this way and my heart still aches even though I finally have a baby I can hold. I will say a prayer for you. I shared a tiny bit of my story on my blog
    May the Lord grant you peace and be your comfort in this time...

  20. I'm so sorry.... it doesn't feel like it, but it will be easier with each coming day.

    Sending up prayers for you and your family.


  21. Weeping with you...

    you are loved,

  22. Sweet Allegra! You are so strong even if you don't feel like it. You have Loving arms wrapped around you through this all. He is the only way to get through this. I too know your pain. We had actually told everyone on Christmas and then a week later had to tell everyone a different story. And then go through another one. That was 12 yrs ago. Now we have 3 beautiful children that I cherish deeply. I pray that you will continue to worship God and know that He is holding you in the palm of His hand. He has a plan for you sweet one. Even though we don't think we'll ever make it through He surprises us by His Love.

  23. I found your blog today. I am so sorry for your hurt, your loss. Our prayers to you, for strength and healing.

  24. No words...just a HUGE HUGE HUG my are loved more then you know. xoxo

  25. I just stumbled upon your blog for the second time and read your Weight of Hope post that led me here... I am so, so sorry for your loss. I am praying for you right now. I just lost my baby 3 weeks ago and know too well what you are going through..

    May God's peace and love overwhelm you as he heals your body and your heart.


  26. ~lots of love allegra~ I didn't know that the miscarriage was a process that lasted that long.

    You're faith is inspiring.

  27. i'm sorry for your loss. i like your title...(mis)carried away. i had a son born into heaven almost 9 years ago. i was 14 weeks pregnant.

    we fall in love even before the little stick tells us we are pregnant. in the waiting for it to change, the hoping, dreaming, planning babies future begins. the falling in love begins. and it is okay to mourn that loss. and it is okay to embrace the grace upon grace of God as he heals, and lavishes his love, and mercy on us. for me, mourning and grace collided with each other.

    and it has been 9 yrs, but i still miss him. and i'm telling you that (a person i don't know) to give you permission to miss your child until you get home, if you need to.