Early in my pregnancy, I woke in the wee hours of the night and found the bedsheets and bolster soaked in blood. (No, I am not exaggerating; there was that much blood.)
As I lay in bed, momentarily shocked by the discovery, I sent a prayer-thought up to God. I asked Him, "I thought You told me that I was supposed to have this baby. What's going on here?" (Someone who prayed for me on March 13 2004 had said that I would have fruit from the womb - not miscarriage!)
I didn't immediately get an answer.
My midwifery training switched on and I went on auto. I decided that I needed to change into clean clothes. Entering the bathroom to wipe myself down, I felt an urge to go to toilet. Even as I sat down, my maternal instincts screamed, "You are going to miscarry the baby!" I could feel something coming out.
Again, my training took over. I gathered the clot that I passed. Somewhat shaken at handling the almost hand-size clot, I then slowly and gently looked through it. Macabre? I had to see if there was any sign of my baby.
I couldn't find anything. The negative thoughts came that my pregnancy was too early to see anything. I dismissed it. I did not want to linger on such thoughts.
Finishing what I had to do in the bathroom, I went back to bed. Hubby had changed the sheets. I told him what happened, and we prayed.
Finally such peace descended upon us at around 4am and we drifted to sleep.We felt somehow assured that the baby was fine.
Later we went to the doctor's clinic. There, we saw the ultrasound scan screen showing her still fine.
What the devil had intended to steal and kill and destroy, the Lord had intended for life.
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