#4.4: My Day of Surrender

The days of January were long, lonely, and frightening. I knew what the probable outcome was going to be, but I wasn’t willing to accept it. 

I tried to find every instance, every blog, every story where the numbers were wrong. Where low hCG numbers actually resulted in a completely normal pregnancy and birth. 

I clung to the promises of God’s Word like I had never done before in my life. I dove into the book “Praying God’s Word”, which I highly recommend. 

One night, I told Chris I wanted to sleep in the other room. I wanted to be alone with God and this babe to just be and to pray. My prayer that night was unlike anything I’ve ever prayed before. Rather than praying for the outcome that I wanted, pleading with the Lord like I had for weeks —I prayed for the Lord’s will to be done. 

I distinctly remember saying, “Lord, I don’t know if this baby is meant to be here with me on earth, or with you in Heaven. But, my heart is broken and I can’t take the unknown any more. I surrender to your will for my life and the life of this baby and pray for your peace in accepting the outcome.”

My day of surrender had finally come. 

The next morning, my miscarriage began.

The physical pain that day was equal to the emotional pain. Essentially, I was having labor contractions, but the end result would not be a baby in my arms. If this was all I was ever going to feel of my baby, then I wanted to feel the pain for as long as I could.

By that evening though, the pain was intolerable. I was in tears, doubled over in my bed writhing in agony. Finally Chris looked at me and said, “I think we need to go to the hospital.” I nodded.

The hospital is never a place you want to be, but I firmly believe that it is exactly where I was supposed to be that evening.

I truly feel like each person I interacted with that lifechanging night was placed there by Divine intervention. From the male hospital triage nurse, who came and got me out of the waiting room and told me that he would personally find a room for me so that I could have privacy, to the ultrasound tech who held my hand and hugged me as she told me no medical intervention was needed that my body successfully miscarried on its own, and finally to the doctor on call who came in for one last exam. But, before she did, she stopped. She looked me square in the eyes and said what I needed to hear more than anything in that moment. 

She said, “Allison. I just feel like I need to tell you something. I need you to know that there is nothing that you did wrong. There is nothing that you could have done to cause this, and there is nothing that you could have done to save this baby. Please don’t think otherwise, and please don’t blame yourself.”

I thanked her profusely through uncontrollable sobs. 

I later found out that my entire family was on their knees that evening, praying for compassion and mercy from the hospital staff. The whole evening was Divinely orchestrated.

Chris and I walked out of the hospital together that evening forever changed. It was raining as we approached the doors to the outside world. A world that seemed so different now. I asked Chris to stand with me for a second before getting into the car. 

Hand-in-hand the rain fell down on us. It is hard to describe, but symbolically it felt like the washing away of the pain, of the fear, of the anxiety of our nightmarish month and in its place was peace.

The next day a blanket of fresh, white snow covered the ground. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me.

A new day was dawning.