I lost a sock once. Turned out to be underneath the bed which baffled my mind entirely as I’d taken the socks off whilst sat on the bed. How is took it self off and was discovered under the bed not only frustrated me but disturbed my head. Why would a sock do that to me? Of course it was a great relief when I found it. It says a lot about a person if they have matching socks.
Lost and found go together like salt n pepper. Jam and cream, cheese and tomato. Tends to be when something is lost it is either found or a replacement can be found. Upon the circumstance of loss of life however it is very rare to find life again. I’m afraid once your gone from this world, you’re gone. Yet more often than not somewhere else, in someone else’s world a new life is arriving. So the balance is again restored, lost and found.
When my husband and I lost our marbles one month last year and we decided to try for a fourth baby it was a great shock to discover that we ‘found’ ourselves pregnant very quickly. Shock came over me. Utter shock. I remember sitting in the armchair in my living room positive pregnancy test in one hand and a quiver in the next watching my husband pump his fists in what appeared to be slow motion. Two days later once everything had synced back to real time, my husband and I were lying in bed like two teenagers conspiring to take over the world. We began making our plans. Imagining people’s reactions to the up coming news. Imagining our life plus one more.
It was only ten days later when the loss happened. I started bleeding one day after the school run. I led on the floor with my legs on the same armchair I had sat in only two weeks previous hoping by some miracle that gravity would keep the foetus in place. It didn’t. Even though I pleaded with my body not to let go. It did. Another week later at the hospital and blood tests confirmed the hormones had gone down and I’d stopped bleeding which a lined to the loss my body had gone through. Such was the loss that I didn’t bleed again. I didn’t bleed for a further three months.
Discussing this pain with the only two people I knew who’d experienced this first hand they told me that this was perfectly normal. So was the feeling of a dark cloud sat on your head and the numbness in your heart. All to be expected apparently. I had never felt that way before. I had never lost something so close to me that it felt like it had been ripped from my very core. Sure the sock incident was frustrating but it was quickly put into perspective when I didn’t care if I wore socks for a whole month, let alone matching ones.
For three months i think I was walking, I think I was talking, doing the school run, shopping, making tea. Things I do all day every day without much thought except I can’t remember doing them. I was like a shell with no snail.
The only thing bothering me was the growth in my belly. Sure it was something deadly and these were my final days I went and bought another pregnancy test. Thinking if I did it at home and when it was negative I could go to the GP and tell them I wasn’t pregnant and to proceed onto further action.
I went to pee on the stick on more time feeling sure I was a glutton for punishment as why on earth would it be positive? I did the deed and left it in the bathroom while I went to reconcile my washing machine mind to my husband. After five minutes I went back and once again the slow motion returned. I glided into the living room and sat on that faithful armchair and presented the urine soaked stick to my husband. It was positive.
It was only when I was led on the bed in the early pregnancy unit at hospital when the lady scanning my tummy revealed what was going on. I had lost it seemed. Yet there as if lounging in a hammock awaiting a cold pina colada led a fourteen week old baby. Two arms, two legs and one head. Before I knew what I was feeling my body was already reacting to the sight. Salty tears sprung from my eyes and ran into my mouth. I had found.
But there was more. She scrolled along my tummy past the lounging babe and there in the blackness was another but it was lost. Grown to seven weeks and no more was twin two. I had lost again.
I still haven’t reconciled what happened over those four months last year but here as I type looking down at my engorged stomach with the occasional fist pump rippling the surface I know that I have one. I have what I thought I’d lost. We have a fourth on the way and my husband and I conspire and plan and imagine all over again what our life will look like plus one more. Sure we’ve imagined what our life would look like plus two but we have laid that to rest in the arms of our Heavenly Father knowing full well the joy that will be ours when we return to Him in the end and discover that our two losses here on earth will be flourishingly found in eternity.