Mom to Andrew Edward Mitchell
December 6th, 2009-December 19th, 2009
Oxford, MS

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Mom to Leila

Miscarried on November 16th, 2008
Boston, MA

For two days, beforehand, I had been having some pregnancy-like symptoms, so on November 11, 2008, I took a pregnancy test…and it was positive. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and in the next 24-hour period, I took four more, “just to be sure.” All of them were positive. I was terrified and shocked. My husband, Brady, and I had definitely not planned on having a baby yet. (For his part, bless his heart, Brady was thrilled).

The first two days, I remember being consumed with fear and anxiety – about money, about housing (we were both still in college and had been married only six months), about the pain of labor, about finding a good OB/GYN. But on the second day, my fears began to make way for joyful anticipation. I loved walking by all the familiar faces I passed on a daily basis knowing that I had this incredible secret and no one else (save Brady) knew about it.

In our excitement, Brady and I decided to tell a few close friends right away. They were, of course, thrilled for us. One of them, a very dear friend, even made up a little song on his guitar to celebrate with us. This friend used to call me “Buddy” as a nickname, so he serenaded my stomach with an adorable rendition of, “Baby Buddy, I love you already.”

That Saturday, November 15th, Brady was working an overnight shift at work, as he occasionally did. He came home for a little bit in the afternoon and encouraged me to get some rest, as I had been complaining of cramps most of the day. I took his advice and went to bed early. At about 3 am, I woke up to severe abdominal pain (like cramps but worse and different). When I got up to go to the bathroom (which, since getting pregnant, I had to do about four times a night), I discovered blood…a lot of blood. My pants were soaked and it had even seeped through to stain our sheets. And I just knew, in my gut, that I was having a miscarriage. But I didn’t want to believe it…I couldn’t believe it. How could I be having a miscarriage? I had only known for a few days that I was even pregnant!

I tried to call and text Brady, but, since it was three in the morning, he didn’t answer. I called into my OB/GYN’s emergency line, desperately hoping that they would tell me that this was normal and everything was okay. Instead, they confirmed my fear – I was most likely having a miscarriage, but to be sure I should go to the emergency room. Otherwise, if we didn’t want to spend the money, we could wait to try to get an appointment right away on Monday.

Not long after I hung up the phone with the doctor, Brady called. Through my sobs I told him what was happening. He told me to try to sleep, and he would call me in a little bit once he was able to finagle his work schedule to come home early (he worked at a group home and, legally, there had to be a certain ratio of employees to residents). About ten minutes later, I got a call from Brady’s spiritual father (the man who married us). After talking to me, Brady had called him, and he called to pray with me. After praying, he also encouraged me to try to get some sleep.

But how could I possibly sleep at a time like this? Not only would the pain make it difficult, but beyond that, let’s be honest, who can sleep when they think they are having a miscarriage? So instead, I picked up my Bible and began reading Psalms, not really expecting to find anything that could offer any comfort at that exact moment. But within minutes, I stumbled across Psalm 4:8, “I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” And, surprisingly, I did find comfort in this verse and was able to lie down and sleep in peace, if only for a couple hours.

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