Musings of a Louisville St. Louisan

This blog was written on Wednesday, January 22, 2014 Three weeks ago, on New Year's Eve, I was at the doctor's office finding out that I had lost my baby girl, Ezraela Eaven.  I wrote about it in my blog and in closing I said, " I know from past experiences that his mercies are new every morning.  It’s not morning yet.  And I’m not even sure when it will be morning.  Probably not for a long time."  The days that have stretched on since then have been difficult.  And when I say difficult it is probably an understatement.  I'm not sure there is a word in the English language that capture the anguish I have felt.  They have been harder than when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer back in 2006 and when my grandma (her mom, who I was very close to) died while she was undergoing chemo.  They have been more agonizing than when I was diagnosed with interstitial cystitis in 2007 and the dramatic life change that has followed.  I am not trying to belittle anyone

Last night, January 3, 2014, I said goodbye to my sweet baby girl, Ezraela Eaven.  Ezraela meaning “God is my help”, Eaven meaning “fair radiance”.  I only carried her in my belly (as my 2 ½ year old, Alexandria, would say) for 18 weeks, but to me, her mother, it might as well have been an eternity.    I remember the day I took the pregnancy test that told me she was there.  I remember the tears of joy that streamed down my face.  We kept the news of her quiet for quite some time because we were afraid that we would lose her.   My first visit to the nurse midwife was riddled with anticipation and anxiety.  I was afraid they would tell me the tests I took had been wrong, but because of spotting and cramping they did an ultrasound.  That day I truly fell in love with that little blob on the screen.  I was only 10 weeks along, but she was mine.   10 Week Ultrasound My second visit was more of the same.  They couldn’t find a heartbeat at first, but after a