Oh Me Of Little Faith (Part 2)

Victoria* has come to the office a few more times to visit with us. She is always wearing her white nurses scrubs because she is on her way to or from work or school. She normally walks in quietly and sits down in the same chair in the waiting room. She likes to wait for one us to see her and stop and say hello instead of announcing her arrival herself. It is always a treat to see her sitting there smiling.

Last Monday, she came in on her way to work just to say hello and tell us about a potential job opportunity she found. Sandra asked her how her baby was doing and she told us that she was bleeding. "Spotting?" she asked. "No, clots." she responded. All of our eyes got wide. "You need to go to the hospital!" Sandra said. She gave her a sonogram. I saw that the shape of her uterus was not round like a pear but elongated like a banana. Worst of all, the baby had no heart beat. We sent her immediately over to the ER and told her to call us once she found out what was going on. Later that day we got the phone call. She had miscarried.

I never thought that I would feel so much sadness over this. Maybe it is because her turnaround was such a shock to me. Maybe it is because I saw the sonogram and have an image of what a miscarriage looks like. Maybe it was because I had seen her several times and felt as though I had a relationship with her. Maybe it is a combination of all these things. No matter what the reason, it reminds me that the death of all babies, not just the aborted ones, is a tragedy. As I grieve the loss of this little one, I remind myself that earth bears no sorrow heaven cannot heal and that one day all will be made well.