Jubilee Ruth: Part II

(Read Part I first)

…Pregnant. It made no sense, timing-wise or birth-control-wise. Nate and I were both sort of in shock, sort of in wait-and-see mode. Both of us had a hard time embracing it as being true, and agreed together that we wouldn’t tell anyone or get our hopes up until I went to the doctor to confirm it. A few days later, I found myself sitting in an examination room waiting for those results. Waiting to be told whether I was in some kind of crazy dream, or if all of this was actually real. I was waiting for a long time and I remember staring at the grass-green wall across from me, stomach turning, heart pounding, wondering how I would look back on this moment in the years to come.

45 minutes after I’d peed in the cup, the nurse came in with some sort of report in her hand and typed a few things into the computer. Maddeningly, she said nothing except, “The doctor will be in shortly.” And I found myself waiting for another 25 minutes for him to come. But I couldn’t take it. I looked at the sheet of paper she’d brought in. I thought I saw something like “HCG = Plus,” but I wasn’t quite ready to be sure what that meant. So then I did something that may not have been in the best judgment but that I couldn’t resist: I looked on the computer screen at my file, and scrolled down. That’s when I saw it. “HCG Test = Positive Result.” So it was real. Pregnant!! In that moment, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that the baby I carried was my Jubilee Ruth. It had been about three weeks since God gave me her name. How could it be any other?

When the doctor finally came to talk to me, it was mixed news. Yes, I was pregnant, but he was nervous. [Here’s the part where I’ll try to share just enough detail to explain the situation, but not too much.] I had an IUD, which is a form of contraception that a doctor inserts into your uterus and is good for up to ten years, until you choose to have a doctor take it out again. It’s supposed to be 99.9% effective. I was the .01%. The doctor was nervous because when someone does get pregnant with an IUD, it greatly increases the chance of miscarriage. If pregnancy happens, you need to get the IUD out ASAP. Unfortunately, however, taking out the IUD can also induce a miscarriage. But, it’s better to get it out. So, he was nervous.

As the doctor and I discussed all of this (none of which was news to me – I knew the risks of an IUD and pregnancy), my mind kept mulling over my baby’s name. Jubilee Ruth. Redemption. Life out of death. I was equal parts excited and scared, but leaning towards the scared side. I knew that, with God, there was no guarantee at all that he would spare me the pain of a miscarriage. In fact, what if that was exactly what He had in mind? My thoughts also went to numerous other scenarios that involved pain and difficulty and complication with this baby. I tried to keep it all in check as the doctor and I discussed plans to get the IUD out, and to schedule an ultrasound, which would hopefully tell us how far along I was. He even listened for a heartbeat, but heard none, which he expected – this was consistent, he said, with a baby less than 10 weeks along.

The next few days were a swirl of anxiety and anticipation. I desperately wanted to keep my hope and excitement in check, because I was so scared of being disappointed. Yet I found that my heart could not help feeling the joyful side of my baby’s name – Jubilee literally means celebration, rejoicing. Here's what I wrote in my journal:

I’m on this roller coaster of hoping, dreading, hoping, dreading. Yesterday I prayed that if I was going to lose this baby, that it would happen sooner than later so that I won’t be on this roller coaster forever. ...It’s just so hard. I have gotten really excited and hopeful, almost in spite of myself. I really can’t help it. Ever since November 10th when you told me about Jubilee Ruth, I have wanted a newborn baby girl. That’s on my mind more or less all the time. ...I can’t get away from my desire for it. Yet, here I sit in this incredibly tenuous place of not knowing if it’s a green light or a red light. Yet my heart insists on continuing to hope and be excited, even while my head is telling me to slow down, hold up. Just wait.

Three days after the initial doctor’s appointment I went in to get the IUD removed. That morning was blessed by a time of prayer with one of my dearest friends, one of the only people besides Nate who now knew about tiny Jubilee. She thanked God for the life of my baby and asked Him to protect her. She told me it didn’t make sense to her that God would let the baby die. I wanted this to be true, but was still waiting.

I was all nerves as I went to my appointment. Immediately before the doctor came, I went to the bathroom and noticed some very faint spotting. This is pretty normal in pregnancy, so I reassured myself of that and tried to refocus. The doctor came, everything went smoothly, and at the end he told me he was optimistic. I asked every kind of detailed question I could think of that had to do with How will I know if I’ve miscarried? He told me to expect bleeding from having gotten the IUD out, but that if it was heavy or if I had any cramping, to go to the ER. After a week, he said, the danger would be over, and there would be no reason why I shouldn’t go on to have a normal and healthy pregnancy. Okay. I clung to his words like a life preserver. All I could think about were the signs to look for: heavy bleeding and cramping.

Over the next week, I had neither of those. Bleeding, yes, but not heavy, and no cramping or pain whatsoever. Though any blood at all made me anxious, he had said to expect that, and my own informal research confirmed that this was a typical experience after getting an IUD removed. Five days after the removal I went to the doctor’s office again, and this time spoke to a nurse midwife. I described what I’d been experiencing and she didn’t seem overly concerned. She scheduled the ultrasound for two days later, which would make one week since the removal. The end of the danger zone. I waited anxiously for that day. I looked forward to answers, one way or another. It would also be the day before we went to Minnesota to celebrate Christmas with our families. I really, really didn’t want to go through Christmas and all that time with my family without knowing whether or not I was still pregnant.

In my journal I wrote this prayer: I know that the birth of another child is not ultimately what I want out of my life. I am holding as closely as I can to the realization that it is YOU that I want. Whatever YOU bring, whatever YOU see as necessary for my becoming more like you and drawing others to you, that is what I want. I don’t need to have this baby girl brought to term healthy in order to worship you or acknowledge you as good and glorious Lord of the universe. I will do that regardless. And if losing this baby is something you deem as absolutely necessary in my journey of knowing you, experiencing you, becoming like you, then I will accept it as such. But my plea is that it wouldn’t have to be necessary.
...At this point, even if I don’t get to meet Jubilee Ruth here, I know she is real, and so even if she has already died by the time I’m writing this, I trust that I will get to meet her someday. You created her and love her too, whether you intended for her to experience this earth or not. …So my joy and my worship of you, my belief that you’re good and that you love me do not depend on what happens with Jubilee Ruth. ....But in the midst of all of that being true, I still want her. I really, really want her.

Two days later I went into the ultrasound room and almost immediately after the ultrasound tech got started, she asked if the doctor had done a blood test for pregnancy. He hadn’t. Immediately I wondered why she was asking. Why would you ask that if you saw a baby? She went through the whole ultrasound without saying anything else, and at the end left to go consult with a doctor. Again, waiting. Heart pounding. She came back and said, quite matter-of-factly, “I didn’t see any signs of pregnancy.” At that point, I actually wanted her to be clear: “You’ve had a miscarriage.” At least then I would know. But instead, she said, “It’s too early. Your period was only three weeks ago; you need to come back in two more weeks.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. It was the closest I’ve come in this entire journey to being outright angry with God. I had anticipated that ultrasound as my source of answers and clarity. Instead, I’d only gotten more waiting, more uncertainty, and the prospect of two weeks surrounded by family and Christmas festivity without any access to further resolution. I was mad.

So over the two week break, Nate and I had to decide whether to tell our families. We are close with our parents, and it already felt unnatural to me for them not to know what was going on. I couldn’t imagine living with them for two weeks without sharing. We talked it over. None of the medical professionals involved seemed to think that I had indeed miscarried. If I had only just gotten pregnant in the last few weeks, it would indeed be normal to see nothing on an ultrasound. I was having definite pregnancy symptoms (fatigue, nausea, etc.). And above all, there was God right in the midst of it, daring me yet again to choose Life – to take the risk of being excited, even knowing it might lead to heartbreak. And yet again, I decided take the plunge. We decided to assume we were pregnant until proven otherwise, and to let our families know.

Making that decision, to embrace the pregnancy, brought the most peace I had felt since the entire fiasco had begun. It felt right. Over the next two weeks we shared the news with close family and a few friends. Nate's parents bought Annabel a big sister & little sister babydoll set for Christmas to help get her adjusted to the idea. I thought it would be cute to use the dolls to tell my family, so we wrapped them up and put them under the tree:



Around Christmas I began experiencing even more pregnancy symptoms. And then, the big one: no period! At that point I became totally confident and comfortable with the idea. I was having a baby! Jubilee Ruth! The fear was still there, but more as an afterthought than the main focus. I had come through the worst of it, passed through the danger zone, and now I was in the clear. I bought supplies for those baby projects and went shopping for maternity clothes. It was a beautiful and restful time, celebrating the presence of a precious and blessed new life. I had no idea that my Jubilee girl had already left us.

[Read Part III]