This post is a continuation of Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.  See also intermission post one and two.

I waited, resigned to seeing this through to the bitter end.  "God!"  I prayed my same old broken, anguished, un-finish-able prayer again, "God!"



My brain was trying to choose submission and peace, but my heart was too full to sort that through or even fully recognize the choice.  Or, in better words, my spirit was willing, but my flesh was weak.  (ha-ha)

When the doctor came back in, he did not reveal any news.  Instead, he explained that although ultrasounds were not normally done at this stage, due to my history of miscarriages and my inability to provide even a ball-park estimate of my last period he wanted to have an ultrasound done.  Then he placed his hand on my shoulder and told me, "Don't worry.  This is just to see what's going on."


I walked down the hall and entered the darkened room.  The ultrasound technician smiled at me and introduced herself as she helped spread a sheet over me.  "Because the baby will be so tiny," she explained, "we'll need to do a vaginal ultrasound today.  Have you ever had one before?"

"Yes."  After my first miscarriage before Liberty and after my second miscarriage after Mercy.  The memories came flooding back.  The darkened rooms, the ultrasound machines, the unknown, the fearfulness, the pain, the grief. 


"There's the heart-beat!" she joyfully proclaimed as she turned the volume up on the machine.

The sound poured over me, filling my soul.  I turned to look at the screen and saw a tiny baby attached to a bubble.  Without warning, silent tears slipped down my face creating pools in my ears, and they would not stop flowing.  Thankfully, tears make no sound in the dark.  I thought about whispering goodbye to the little one on the screen, but the Holy Spirit immediately told me that would not be acting in faith so I remained silent.

"Oh," the technician sounded startled.  "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a fibroid?"

"Uh, no?  What's a fibroid?"

A fibroid is a group of muscle cells that grow more densely together than most muscle cells do.  A fibroid inside my uterus means that the uterine wall in that area can be too dense for an embryo to fully attach.  In my case, most likely, many fertilized eggs had attempted to attach over the years in that one more dense spot and had never been able to, but the five that had been tenacious enough -- one before Liberty and four after Mercy -- were unable to survive in their chosen area because the necessary nutrients and other items could not penetrate the uterine wall to supply them with life.
Because no one knows for sure what causes fibroids, we also don't know what causes them to grow or shrink. We do know that they are under hormonal control — both estrogen and progesterone. They grow rapidly during pregnancy, when hormone levels are high. They shrink when anti-hormone medication is used. They also stop growing or shrink once a woman reaches menopause. ~ From

I digested this information slowly.  "Where is this baby attached?" I asked.

"Not near the fibroid," she answered, and she turned the biggest, happiest grin my way.  I smiled back through my tears and heaved out a gulping sob of joy.  She laughed along with me and rolled on her stool to the counter to grab a box of tissues.  "These always come in handy in this room!" she said.  I accepted her gift, and the two of us grinned at each other while I wiped my still flowing and thankfully back-to-being-silent tears.

The doctor had more to tell me after the ultrasound.  Things like my due date (June 12th), and my potential c-section date (June 7th -- my birthday), normal things that a mom with a miscarriage looming would not need to concern herself with.  I couldn't stop grinning.

Afterwards, I sat in my car facing into the blaring sunshine and thought some more.  Do you know what this means?  It means that I am not defective.  I have not been somehow causing the deaths of my babies through anything I'm doing or not doing.  It has nothing to do with me.  It's just this stupid body that decided to grow a fibroid without asking my permission.  I'm not a bad mom!  Oh the freedom!  Did you know guilt weighs a LOT?

I must have sat in that parking lot for twenty minutes just soaking all that information in.  Finally, I turned the key and started driving.  This is definitely over-the-phone kind of news, especially to a father as hurting as Jeremy.  I called him as I took the highway entrance ramp.

It took him a long while to cautiously digest it all as well.  After many questions and answers and repeating questions and answers he finally asked, "You mean...there's nothing wrong with my little swimmer guys?" the joyful disbelief almost palpable in his voice.  "I didn't drink too much Mountain Dew before?"

"Oh, Jeremy!" my heart groaned for him.  I had never known.  His guilt had been just as heavy as mine.  And it was all unnecessary.  For both of us.  I wanted to gather him into my arms and make it all go away.  For now I'd have to settle for, "Your swimmers are fine!"

But first, I needed to pull over and vomit.

To be continued...
2 Responses
  1. Beth Says:

    Oh, you sweet sweet girl. I have to you!!!

  2. oh, Missy! whatever happens, I am praying with all of my heart for God's strength for you and Jeremy... I guess I never did share with you about my own miscarriage, February 13th, 2002. I'm glad to see you and Jeremy drawing closer to each other through this, and not letting it come between you, with T. and I, that was the beginning of the end, in his hurt he went his way and withdrew, and so did I, away from each other.
    Love you lots, Andrea

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