I had returned to my hometown as a different person. I had grown in my faith, and had started looking at the world differently. I believed I had finally healed from my past, and my beautiful family of three was going to live happily ever after.
I was met with quite different expectations. I felt like some thought I was the same Misty they knew in high school, the same daughter that left home, the same wild and crazy friend that made her mom pull out her hair. I was met with teasing and comments that hurt…and they hurt deeper than what they intended.
“Just you wait.. you are going to get it back times 10 now that you’re a mom!”
and “Remember all the things you put your mom through? Now it’s your turn!”
So, why did these words sting so much? Why was I left feeling angry and bitter towards my parents and close friends? The words spoken sounded like this in my mind… ‘I hope your children experience the same pain and hurts that you did as a child. I hope they start searching for their self worth in worldly things that will only leave them empty and lost. I hope your marriage ends in divorce.’
I was surrounded by blessings; a new home, a growing family, stable jobs…and yet I was angry.
“The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy…” John 10:10 NLT
I was angry at my mom for the choices she made in my youth. I was angry with my childhood friends for things that happened years ago and I never spoke up about it. I was angry with my dad for leaving us and not being around the way I had hoped. I was angry that Jason had grown up with both of his parents in a loving and close home, and when his parents or family would pop in unannounced, I would become unglued and for all the wrong reasons. I had fully started comparing the way we grew up and the differences we had, and I was jealous that his family actually wanted to be more involved than mine did.
I didn’t stop there. Jason and I had been attending church regularly. I thought that there were rules to follow and if you didn’t follow them, than you weren’t a good Christian. I had become judgemental. I wanted to hold all those accountable for the wrongs they had committed against me, or simply the things I thought were wrong for them to do. I carried that around in all aspects of my life…family, friends, and co-workers. I became self-righteous in my way of thinking. My attitude was people had walked all over me for years and I remained silent out of fear of rejection…I was now a wife and mother and NO ONE was going to treat me that way anymore. Didn’t I sound pleasant? The sad part is looking back, I thought I was right and my behavior was good.
In 2009, Jason and I decided to try and expand our family. It happened quite quickly compared to trying for Noah. I found out in October, of that year, we were expecting. My sister was also expecting her first child, and two of my co-workers were also due at the same time as me. I still remember Noah and I surprising Jason with the news. I had put the positive pregnancy test in a halloween treat bag. Jason came home from work, and Noah handed him the bag and said trick or treat. We were so happy. I thought God was making up for the 13 months of trying with Noah and for the struggles I had been facing with dealing with my past. I was 11 weeks along when Jason was putting Noah to bed. My first doctor’s appointment was scheduled the following week. I had went to use the bathroom, and saw blood. I went numb. I hysterically started yelling for Jason. He came running in, and saw what was happening. He called my doctor and we were advised it could be normal and to keep my appointment. In the meantime, I was to go for blood work to check my hormone levels. So I did, and at my first appointment I was told that my pregnancy was not viable. I can still hear the doctors words,
“Misty, you did nothing wrong. Your body did what it was supposed to do and recognized that something was wrong. This happens in 1 and 4 pregnancies.”
But…it wasn’t supposed to happen to me! Hadn’t I been through enough? My D and C was scheduled later that week. I woke up in a recovery room and was being supervised by a nurse. She removed my intubation tube, and I began to cry. She grabbed a tissue and started wiping my tears, and I asked her if this pain and emptiness would ever go away. She responded that I will always carry this baby in my heart, and she cried with me. I withdrew from everyone during that time. My mom had stopped to check on me, and I locked myself in the bathroom. Words that were meant to comfort me were knives to the heart. Nothing could fill the emptiness inside of me. I lost a baby…I lost a part of me.
The coming months were difficult to say the least. I was planning my little sister’s first baby shower, and had to endure two of my co-workers having their babies when I should have been having mine. It was the beginning of a dark time in my life, and I knew I was depressed. I thought I could get it together and fix myself. I could pray this feeling away, and Jason and I will just try again.
In August 2010, two pink lines showed up again. I had to wait a long 10 weeks before my first appointment. I told Jason he didn’t need to come, maybe I thought I would receive bad news again, but my mom came with me. There we were, both crying as we listened to my doctor…
and my baby’s heartbeat…
By His grace,