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I just noticed that no where on my blog have I completely told the story of everything that happen this last year to bring me to where I am today.  I miscarried in January.  I have that whole story well documented, but what I don't have any record of is the miscarriage that I had in April.  This is that story...

On January 9, 2007, I had my follow up appointment with my midwife.  She gave me a clean bill of health and said that if we wanted to start trying to get pregnant again, my body looked ready.  According to how things looked outwardly, I had had my miscarriage the first of December and had a normal cycle.  That weekend was actually when I finally had my miscarriage.  This story is also documented so I won't go into more details.  But all my midwife said was, "I guess you're really done now."  

Scott and I were ignorant and thought that it was still ok to try again.  We didn't really "try" but we didn't do anything to stop another pregnancy.  I immediately got pregnant again.  This time I was thrilled!  I was going to show these midwives that I can get pregnant and have healthy babies.  I'll show them how great my God is!  Ha!  Pride always comes before a fall.  

Right off the bat things weren't as they should be.  Because I had no period from which to calculate a due date on they had no way of knowing how far along I was.  I began to have blood work done every 2-3 days.  My hcG levels were always low so they had me go in for ultrasounds every week.  You could see the very beginning stages of a pregnancy forming and growing, but still my hormone levels were not were they should have been.  

After all we had been through with the first one we didn't tell anyone but a few very close, very 

trusted friends--not even family.  We couldn't bring ourselves to get everyone excited only to maybe have to tell them bad news in a few weeks again.  

Finally, around what we determined to be week seven they said that the pregnancy had not grown from the week before and there was no fetal pole or yoke sac.  Both should have been visible in an internal ultrasound by weeks 5-6.  

I was going to have another miscarriage.  

Again.

Scott and I had been preparing ourselves for the worst but believing God for the best.  We knew that somehow this was still all a part of His glorious plan in our lives.  Nothing happens without purpose and nothing happens without His knowledge.  

But again, Lord?  

We immediately began to pray that this miscarriage would pass quickly.  The first took 10 weeks from the time the pregnancy ended to the time it left my body.  It was an absolute miracle that I wasn't toxic.  I didn't know what was happening during those 10 weeks, so it didn't bother me too much when it happened.  This time I knew what a real miscarriage was supposed to look and feel like.  I knew I didn't want to sit around and wait another 10 weeks for it to happen.  I also didn't want to have a D & C which I would have done rather than wait around for it.  The very next day I began to bleed.  

The following weekend was Easter.  We had 24 hours of worship that began on Good Friday night and ended on Saturday evening.  By Saturday afternoon, I was still bleeding but I couldn't leave the sanctuary.  I was bleeding so badly I had to go to the bathroom every hour or so to take care of things.  My contractions were awful.  I sat in the back and just cried.  I knew I was losing another baby.  

Around 6pm, I went to the bathroom and as I sat down I felt everything leave my body.  

Someone came in and I asked them to go get my girlfriend who had been praying with me through this second time.  She came in and all I could do was sob.  She knew right away and began to pray over me.  In the second stall of the ladies bathroom, I lost my third child.  

I sobbed on her shoulder in the bathroom for a long time.  I knew I had to tell Scott but he was leading worship.  I wrote him a note that said, "I just lost the baby," and laid it on his piano as he played.  I gathered my things, collected Natalie and headed home.  

The contractions continued and increased.  By the time I got home I had to run to the bathroom where I passed the rest of everything.  By this time Scott was done and he raced home.  He just held me while I cried.  This was the first time that I actually cried for the lose of this second baby.

I don't know why it happened.  I wish I did.  Looking back on it now, I can see God's hand in everything that happened.  His hand sanding away the junk hidden deep in my heart and replacing it with a faith that can move mountains.  

I shared this testimony with a childhood friend of mine once and he reminded me of the scripture in 1 Peter that says, "In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls,"  (verses 6-9).

It's true, you know.  Even in our sufferings we are to rejoice.  It makes stronger, better, wiser.  "…And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us," (Romans 5:2-5). 

So that's the record of my second miscarriage, my third pregnancy, but certainly not the end of my story.  The next Sunday brought even more suffering.  I didn't think I could handle any more.  My mom called me during service to tell me that my grandfather had just passed away...