Tender Mercies

Last Sunday, our lives split into two. The before, and after. 

Before - pregnant with our 3rd child, I was so sick. Beyond nauseated and anemic.  But, we were so happy - Olivia was thrilled. Leo would undoubtedly cover the baby with his trademark kisses. The baby would share Leo's room. They'd be 2 years apart, and Olivia would be 6 years older. 

After - we lost the baby. I lost quite a lot of blood, and as I was told, nearly my life. 

The pain and difficulty of this has blindsided us. Telling Olivia, I felt my heart break as I watched her sweet face register confusion, and then crumple as our news sunk in. 

This pregnancy was by no means easy, from the various shots I had to take, to the appointments, to the complications that came with my subchorionic bleed. To make things easier, I came up with what I called "tender mercies" in my head. Small signs that the good always outweighs the bad. Sometimes a shot would not hurt. Almost all bleeding episodes happened at home. And when they didn't, there was a wheelchair and a kind stranger to help. The fact that I work from home and could easily be on bed rest. The most frequent mercy would be seeing our baby on the weekly ultrasounds, thriving. We decided that we would come up with a strong name for the baby, knowing that it had been a tumultuous pregnancy. On Sunday, we learned that the baby was a boy. We named him Vance Michael, after our Dads, two of the strongest men we know. 

As our hearts continue to break anew, with that darkness comes light. The tender mercies of those who love us. The frequent calls, the patient ears, the endless help with Olivia and Leo. The texts from friends checking in, bringing meals and baked goods. The shelter I found to donate my maternity clothes and other items to is, ironically, called The Well of Mercy. 

Mercy seems to have followed me through this pregnancy. I will admit, it can be hard to see through my cloud of grief. But I know it has been there, and will continue to be.