Updated: Dec 18, 2018
There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.
I remember the day I found out for certain. I had known for about a week, but waited to take a test because I was terrified. Terrified of what my husband would do and say to me when he found out. He had already made it clear that If I were to get pregnant again, there would be consequences.
He didn't like paying for birth control, but he always wanted sex. I was tired of fighting him and tired of fighting the rising costs of prescription birth control. We couldn't even afford our house, cars or utilities anymore. Every month that I had to ask him for money to pay for my prescription, I felt more and more like a burden. I quit buying it. I had some medical issues several years prior and my doctor assured me pregnancy would be near impossible. With that assurance, I decided to do my part to stop adding to our financial problems. It appeased my husband, so I took what I thought was a small risk.
I waited to tell him for a week. I wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. When I finally told him, he was furious just as I knew he would be. I was given the silent treatment for several days. When he would speak to me, he would say cruel and hateful things. I was told I was a horrible wife for allowing myself to become pregnant. I was ruining his life. I was a sorry excuse for a woman. I wouldn't be of any use to him fat and pregnant. My heart was shattered.
My physician wanted me to have an ultrasound as soon as possible due to my previous medical issues. The day of the appointment, as I was prepped for the ultrasound, I felt a vast array of emotions. I didn't sleep the night before and was exhausted. I wanted to be happy, but was frightened of my husband. I was nervous about how many babies there would be.
If there were twins would he be even more angry? He stood across from me in the exam room with arms crossed, staring at me with cold hatred in his eyes. He didn't say a word. He made it clear I would be punished after the exam was done and we were behind closed doors.
The ultrasound started and almost immediately I knew something was wrong by the expression on the ultrasonographer's face. She reached over to the phone and called the radiologist to come to the room. He came in, took one look at the screen and said bluntly, "I'm sorry. There is no heartbeat."
I was in complete shock. My husband's face lit up with an evil, sick smile. The radiologist recommended I come back in two weeks for a repeat ultrasound to recheck the fetus. May be I wasn't as far along as I thought.
I spent two weeks in complete Hell. Questioning. Pleading with the Lord. Had my baby died or was it just too soon to see a heartbeat?
My husband hoped I would miscarry. He told me this so many times I lost count. He didn't want any more children. I had to pay the consequence because it was all my fault for getting pregnant. He had nothing to do with it. It was my fault that I would only give him sex when he was drunk, dangerous and forcing it on me. I deserved this because I was such a horrible wife.
Two weeks later, what I knew in my heart was confirmed. There was still no heartbeat. Measurements estimated I was between 12 and 15 weeks along. My physician gave me two options: either wait it out and recheck in another two weeks to see if we were still missing the heartbeat, or chemically induce miscarriage in the next few days. She told me to go home and think about it.
I wanted to wait it out. I prayed and prayed about it. What did the Lord want me to do? What if the baby was really ok? What if they were wrong about the ultrasound? What if I made the wrong decision? What if there was something genetically wrong? Was this the Lord's protection? Why was this happening?
My anxiety levels were off the chart.
For the next two days, my husband kept on with his hateful attitude and mean comments. I told him I wanted to wait the two weeks to see if there was a heartbeat. He rolled his eyes at me and called me "insane".
I was dying on the inside. I just wanted him to feel remorse or scared or something! Something other than the hate he was exuding. I just wanted his support and some empathy. A simple hug to reassure me.
On the third day, I scheduled an appointment with my physician to discuss my options again. I asked my husband to come, hoping he would have a change of heart. That he would acknowledge my pain.
As we sat there talking with my physician I experienced sudden, overwhelming anger. Anger at him, at the situation, at how he was treating me, anger that I had become pregnant. I blurted out, "Just end it!" I will never forget my physician's face. She was shocked. My husband started smiling that sick smile again. He had won.
The physician asked me if I was sure, and I said "yes" with tears running down my face. I was given a prescription and instructions. We left the physician's office and my husband was ecstatic. The entire ride home, he just smiled and repeatedly told me I had made the best decision for him. I wanted to jump out of the moving car.
The next few days were a painful blur. I was hurting both physically and emotionally. Not once did he check on me. He left me alone in our bedroom to "get it done". He wanted no part in it. He slept on the couch. He never hugged me, held me, cried with me, or reassured me. I hated myself. I felt so guilty.
I remember when it was over. I didn't know what to do. I cried a bit and knew I was to never speak of it again. Life had to go on.
Ecclesiastes 11:5 As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.
Years after my divorce, I am still trying to deal with the incredible pain of the loss of a pregnancy. Alone. My ex-husband never allowed me to grieve. To this day he pretends it never happened. He tells me I made the entire thing up.
I feel disconnected; not able to grieve appropriately. My feelings are disjointed. I still don't discuss it with others. It's a strange. Almost surreal.
With the Lord's help, I'm working through this. I am learning to accept what happened and to accept that the Lord was in control of my situation the entire time. We cannot understand His work, but we are told He does good work. Romans 8:28 tells us, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
I am grateful that child never had to live with the abuse my other children and I have had to endure. I am grateful that child is in the Lord's arms and I look forward in anticipation to meet that child one day when I walk through Heaven's gates!
Years later, the Lord is still using my little one according to His purpose and that, my friends, is good.