The Angel on My Tree

This is not meant to be a downer post. I apologize ahead of time that it may seem that way, but I need to work through some emotions tonight. I've said many times that I blog for two reasons: one being to record life, the other for my own therapeutic reasons. Tonight it is the latter.

The Christmas season, beautiful as it is, is a time of reflection for me. If you read my blog, most likely you know this story. I need to tell it again though. For me. In September of 1998 we had just moved to Rockdale from the valley and were settling into a new ministry. Conner was 3 years old and while we had discussed having another baby, there were no immediate plans. As is often the case, God had other plans. We were excited and somewhat shocked when we found out that a new Briley was expected that following May. With the exception of some intense migraines early in the pregnancy, all seemed well. I chose an obstetrician, Dr. A., in College Station and we laughed that it was only fair that this baby be born in College Station since Conner was born in Austin. Because of the serious problems that I experienced with my previous pregnancy, my doctor was watching things very closely. In November, at a routine ultrasound, we were excited to see the baby developing as expected. Arms, legs, a beating heart...tiny but perfect--we thought. The doctor was concerned that the baby might have an intestinal problem, that things weren't as they should be. We were stunned and prayerful as we left with an appointment to return mid-December for a follow up ultrasound. One month later...an incredibly beautiful, cold and clear December day. We left Conner with a friend from church who kept him while I taught (Head Start back then) and drove the hour to my OB appointment. I remember so many things from that day--in amazing detail. My doctor, who was also expecting and due one month before me, met us with a smile. She had reviewed the ultrasound over and over, had consulted with other doctors, and the consensus was that everything was fine. She left the room and the technologist started the examination--we were so relieved and even a little hopeful that we would find out the baby's gender...though it was a little early to do so. I can still see the smile fading from her face, the look of concern that replaced the cheerful banter. "Have you been feeling okay? Any problems?" I assured her that this second trimester was going great--fewer headaches, nausea under control. She called the doctor in and they quietly studied the screen--it seemed like an eternity. Finally, with tears in her eyes Dr. A. told us that there was no heartbeat. Disbelief, pain like no other. The rest of the day was a blur, though I have some vivid details that remain to this day. She felt that it would be in my best interest to not be an hour away and have to go through the process of miscarriage, especially as I was at week 16. We needed to stay in College Station until later in the afternoon so that I could have the procedure. Not really knowing what else to do, we went to the A&M Church hoping that one of the ministers (and our friend) was there. He was not, but we were graciously allowed to use his office to call our families and make arrangements. The rest of that day, and the days, weeks, and months following were quite a journey. Grief is a process, to be sure--and every year at Christmas, and again in May, I realize that grief is not finite. With God's help, a loving and supportive husband, wonderful friends and family--I made it through the toughest part. But it never REALLY goes away. The ornament in the picture is on our tree every year. A small crystal angel that reminds us of another little angel, whole and complete--waiting to meet us.