I have always wanted a big family. I come from a big family and I loved growing up with siblings and cousins being so close. When we moved to Montana, leaving all of our family behind, I knew that having a lot of kids was something I had wanted, and I had my sights set on six. . And of course, God- willing, we would be able to carry that dream out. My husband has always been so supportive of this for us and so we had our first baby! A baby girl.
Eighteen months later I was in labor with our second. Another baby girl. Transitioning from one to two was very difficult for me. I was able to put on a happy face and God gave me the strength to continue stepping out of my comfort zone but I was a shell of myself. I felt like I was simply going through the motions.
Around our second daughter’s first birthday I finally found my footing and was able to regain my sense of identity! What a break through that was and I was so relieved to be rid of the fog that had plagued me.
So it was no surprise to me that not long after she turned one I began wanting to try (although we have never been great at trying to not get pregnant) for another one.
With my husbands schedule, we can basically pinpoint when conception happens and so I stopped by the dollar store to stock up on pregnancy tests. (And yes, when I mean stock up, I mean stock up. The employees have to have some extreme thoughts as to what kind of person they think I am.)
I began taking them randomly and I was excited when it didn’t take long to for one to pop up positive. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband and begin planning what a third addition would mean to our family.
I immediately began thinking of names for a girl and we had a boy named picked out from the get go. He would be named after my husband, as my husband is already the fourth. I felt in the pit of my stomach, although usually wrong, that my baby was a girl so I was set on Bradley Mae Wachob.
I was so excited and so thankful God had chosen me to be the mother of this sweet baby growing inside me.
I made my first doctors appointment. I would be about nine weeks when they set the date for the confirmation ultrasound.
My husband had to return to work but I was a pro at going to the doctors by myself by now. I loaded up the girls and we excitedly headed out the door to go and see our sweet baby on the ultrasound screen.
My doctor began making small talk to me about all things baby while doing the scan and she slowly became quiet. The girls were strapped into their stroller so all of my attention was on her.
I asked if something was wrong and with a grim look on her face, she said “Kristin, I believe you are having a miscarriage.”
To say I was in shock is an understatement. I mean I had already carried two healthy babies to term, why was this happening?
I asked her if she was sure, and she said that she was pretty positive. She went on to explain what her findings were and to tell me where to go from here but I couldn’t hear any of it. I immediately started praying and decided that I wasn’t going to give up on my baby.
My doctor told me that they recommend taking some medication that will cause my body to, essentially, contract and rid my body of the baby. I refused the medication and opted to let my body try to handle it the way I felt I would be able to handle it naturally should my baby really no longer be living.
Weeks went by, and I had multiple blood tests to see if I was indeed having a miscarriage. Confirmed by the lowering of the pregnancy hormone, I knew that what I didn’t want to come to terms with was indeed happening. I was beside myself.
I am so so thankful for my thriving girls, but I felt like I must have done something wrong to cause this to happen to my other baby.
After a few more weeks of trying to let my body handle it naturally, the doctors told me they were worried about me going septic. So with my husband now home, I decided to take the medication.
They told me I would begin cramping and eventually pass the baby in a large blood clot. After picking up the medication we headed home.
Even writing this I am tearing up, I had no idea what was awaiting me.
I did indeed begin cramping and stayed close to the toilet as I was constantly passing blood clots. Nothing seemed extreme except my emotions. And never having done this before, with each clot I passed I was wondering if that was my baby.
Then I knew.
Several hours had passed and I felt my body contracting worse then before. My husband and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie and I knew I needed to go to the restroom.
I sit down and I begin passing a blood clot that seemed to be huge in comparison to what I had been passing so far.
Without hesitation, and still to this day I am unsure why, I glance down into the toilet.
I saw a lot of blood and reaching out of the center of the biggest blood clot was an itty-bitty hand with five webbed fingers. It was the tiniest, most precious beginning of a hand I have ever seen.
God had lovingly formed by baby, in my womb, until the moment He decided the world did not deserve the presence of such a beautiful soul.
And in forming my sweet baby, He had created the most beautiful, tiny, perfect, itty-bitty webbed hand.
I saw it. There is no mistake that that is indeed what I saw. I fell on the floor crying. Everything hit me. I wanted so many things in that moment.
I wanted to hold it. I wanted to kiss it. I wanted to be angry with God for taking my baby from me.
So now what? I just sat there staring. Without knowing how to proceed, it was as if I stepped outside of my own body, and flushed the toilet.
For a long time I was very angry at myself for doing that, I had just flushed my baby down the toilet. I am still not sure if that was what I should have done, I really don’t know. But what I do know is that God has given me peace over handling it the way I did.
Ya’ll at nine weeks, my baby had a sweet itty-bitty five fingered webbed hand. Nine weeks.
To make the bold but incorrect statement that the child growing inside of a woman is nothing but a clump of cells or fetus or whatever people want to call it, is sickening.
It is a baby. A living and growing baby. And at just nine weeks of gestation, that sweet innocent baby has the beginning of five fingers on each hand. I have seen it with my own eyes.
What happened today in New York is not only heartbreaking, it is unacceptable.
I know that not all circumstances revolving pregnancy are the best situations, but that does not mean that we need to justify a wrong with another wrong.
We have to start with ourselves and begin choosing to start down a different path.
I read a friend’s post on the issue earlier and I couldn’t agree with her more, I dislike having political discussions so much so that I try to avoid them. However, like her, abortion is something that I can’t be quiet about.
I have loved ones who have had abortions and I have been directly affected by them. I know these women and I know that abortion is not something that you choose to do and no longer think about. It affects those who go through it and those around them forever. There are consequences for every decision we make.
We must turn back to God and think of that sweet innocent baby that does not have a voice yet.
-Kristin
