Lost and Found

October 31st is my least favorite day of the year. But not for the reasons you think. I was raised in a Christian home and went Trick-or-Treating every year from birth to age 14. I loved dressing up, and REALLY loved all the candy. Even when I passed the age when it was "cool" to go out door-to-door, I wanted to be the one who gave out candy at our house. 

Fast-forward many years. Lee and I had tried (without success) for a long time to have our first baby. Finally, we began infertility treatments, and we were thrilled to learn after a few months that we were pregnant. I had been a Labor and Delivery nurse at this time for over 10 years, so we knew that making it to 12-weeks was an important goal. We'd be able to breathe a little easier and let our guard down some. So we decided that we would not share our good news until we reached that point in the pregnancy. We had several office appointments and on early ultrasounds we were even able to see and hear the baby's heartbeat. We hit that all-important milestone of 12 weeks and immediately began to tell our family and friends. Life was good.

A little over a week later, on Thursday, October 31st, I had a "routine" scheduled office appointment. Except it quickly became anything but routine when the nurse (who was completely decked out in a Flintstone's "Pebbles" costume) could not find the baby's heartbeat. Working at the hospital, I knew all the office nurses, so she spent extra time with the Doppler machine. Every minute that passed, I grew more anxious. Of course, she was constantly reassuring me that there was nothing wrong, but I think, looking back on it, I knew. So I'm lying there, thinking, "Oh God, I've got to call Lee and tell him," and all the while a nurse in a one-shouldered animal print dress and a large bone in her hair is spreading more and more cold ultrasound gel on my belly. It was at that point that I started hating Halloween.

We survived that loss and the next year, God blessed us with a completely "normal," healthy pregnancy. A godly woman at our church had told us after our miscarriage, "You won't understand this now, but one day when you're holding the baby that God IS going to give you, realize that you wouldn't have that baby if you had not lost this baby.

We never forgot those words and she was so right. On that Halloween Day many years ago, it was hard to see past the pain, the frustration, the "why's." Now, looking at our four children, I simply cannot imagine life without any of them.

So, the irony is not lost on me that tonight as we were out walking with the kids while they begged for candy, Lee got an email saying that he had in essence "had a miscarriage." See, his songs are his babies. And he's been working on a project for several months now and it has been a healthy, exciting pregnancy. So, tonight, on this Halloween night, once again, we have been mourning a loss. And feeling pain and frustration. And asking, "why?" But even in the disappointment, there's a part of me wondering what God is up to and looking forward to the "baby"  that Lee will get to hold because he's had to let this one go.

As I've been typing this, the date has changed. It is now a brand new day.