In February, after my maternity leave was over, I went back to work. I worked exactly six days before I resigned. I had increasing bouts of anxiety sitting at the same desk where I felt Owen kick for the last time. My mind kept racing back to the day where I innocently worked while my son died.
If only I had known...could I have changed the outcome?
My theology dictates otherwise. I have to believe that no matter the circumstances, no matter what I did or did not do, God had ordained Owen's life to be 36 weeks in my womb. Before I was born, before my mother was born, I believe that Owen's life was written in His book exactly as it was.
But, you could not have told me this without an extreme reaction in the months following Owen's death. I did not care. If He's Sovereign, then why? It must have been a reaction to something I've done, I must be to blame...but God could have intervened and had mercy on us...
It was a confusing, seething revolution of thoughts and feelings that dominated my waking hours. I couldn't sleep, I didn't eat, I barely left our apartment...everything I'd ever read or heard was jumbled up in my head and I didn't know what to believe.
My confusion was heightened by the pain. The ache I had for Owen. My body wept for him.
The pain was so intense, so raw that it was all I could think about...everything else was blurry; a fuzzy gray color in the background of the only thing that mattered.
From November 2007 to September 2008 I attended church roughly ten times. I was angry. No, more than angry, I was irate. I couldn't believe that the God I loved and served had allowed Owen to die. It seemed like a cruel joke.
Then I got pregnant again.
It was March 12. I couldn't believe my eyes, but there it was...a positive sign staring back at me.
On April 15 2008, we took another long, tear stained drive to the hospital. The baby was growing in the wrong place and I was in a life threatening situation if my doctors didn't intervene.
We had been through a month of blood tests and ultrasounds starting on March 13. My doctors were following our tiny chipmunk very closely. They were concerned about a bought of bleeding I had early on and then they couldn't find the gestational sac or the baby in my uterus. There was a very small 'something' in the corner of my uterus, very close to my left tube. What followed was four weeks of intense worry, speculation and fear.
It took a full month to diagnose me. It was our high risk OB who gave us the news that the baby was no longer with us, but the sac was still growing and was embedded in the space between my tube and uterus. A very weak spot; supremely dangerous if it got too big. It could rupture my uterus and I could bleed to death very quickly.
A month and three days after chipmunk entered our lives, he was gone.
I was devastated. I felt betrayed, again.