As most of you know, miscarriage is near and dear to my heart. Today I am so grateful Candace Cameron Bure’s sister is sharing her story with us. I pray that it brings hope and healing to many.
Join Candace and Bridgette…..
Hey- Candace Cameron Bure here! My eldest sister Bridgette felt led to share her journey about having a miscarriage. I’m so proud of her for writing this down, giving hope to those of you who are hurting and heartbroken. Bridgette is not a blogger nor has a website, she simply wanted to be an encouragement and lend her heart to bring praise to God through it all. I know you’ll be blessed by reading her story.
-xox Baby Sofia’s Aunt Candace
On a sweltering day in August, 2005 I finally got home with my two young children after a morning of errands. At nine weeks pregnant the word “nap” sounded perfect. I settled my boys into their room and rested on the couch. After an hour I woke up to a gushing sensation. As I sat up I knew what was happening. “No, God, no” was all I could say. I ran to the bathroom and my worst nightmare was confirmed; I was having a miscarriage. My stomach cramped and bled as I sat and cried. How could this be happening? I’ve had 2 healthy pregnancies. How could I be losing my baby?
The next few minutes in the bathroom were moments I will replay in my head over and over and cherish for a lifetime. I looked down at the toilet paper and there was my baby. Nothing else. Just her. Just like you see in all the books. A baby at nine weeks old looks just like a little gummy bear with dark eyes and little webbed hands and feet. The room was quiet and still and I heard God’s voice whisper, “This is your daughter, you need to say goodbye.” I hadn’t even felt her move inside me. I wanted more time. But I knew this wouldn’t be goodbye forever, just until we meet again in Heaven. I sat. I prayed. I said goodbye.
My neighbors stayed home with my boys as I was rushed to the hospital. My husband John was on his way to meet me there. Doctors and nurses were running around me so fast it was a blur. There were no questions asked, just poking and prodding, prepping me for a DNC and a call made to prepare the operating room. I was on the phone with Mom telling her what was happening and her words were calm, loving, and strict. She said, “Bridgette, do not get a DNC. Do not let them take you to the O.R. until they have done an ultrasound. Don’t do anything, I am on my way.” My initial thought was, “Mom these doctors and nurses know what they are doing”, but she was adamant, so I exhaled and agreed.
I took her words seriously and told the nurses that I wanted an ultrasound before heading to the O.R. They told me they would do one there but I insisted the ultrasound be done in my room and I wasn’t going to the O.R. until it was. I saw the nurse roll her eyes as she walked away and tell the other nurses in the hallway that I was becoming a “problem patient”.
The ultrasound tech came in and started to perform the tests. She looked at the monitor, looked at me and my husband, looked at the monitor again and looked back at me. “What? What is it?” I asked. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Your still pregnant.” “No I’m not. I said goodbye to my daughter at home in the bathroom.” I told her, confused. “No, you’re still pregnant” she said, and turned the monitor toward me so we could see our baby’s heart beating. We cried together and thanked God for this miracle.
Because of my initial doctor’s cold bedside manner, once at home, I decided I wanted a second opinion. The new doctor saw something she didn’t want to confirm immediately, so she sent me to a specialist. The specialist gave me surprising news; I had been carrying twins! This confirmed that I did in fact lose my baby at home but by Gods grace, He allowed me to enjoy one here on earth. I was shown that I had two sacs and one placenta, indicating that they would have been identical. The specialist showed me the empty sac and the sac that was beautifully beating away. He said that my body would either reject the second baby or the empty sac would absorb back into my body and I would continue to have a normal pregnancy. I lay on the table motionless, trying to process everything. My heart sunk into my chest as my thoughts turned back to the day in the hospital, prepping for a DNC and the phone call with Mom that saved my healthy baby’s life. If I had not been that “problem patient” and stood firm on my request, the life growing inside of me would have died too. But could I still lose her?
I did continue to have a healthy pregnancy and nine months later our daughter Reese was born. When she was 4 years old, she sat on my lap and asked, “Mommy, do I have a sister?” I was shocked because it wasn’t something we’d ever discussed. She told me that she often dreams about a little girl and talks to her in her prayers. I had planned on waiting to tell her when she was older, but decided now was the time. Reese knows the little girl in her dreams is her sister Sophia and that God is keeping her safe in His arms.
I am so blessed that I got to see Sofia, hold her, and touch her even if it was only for a few moments. She was a part of me, us, our family. Am I angry with God? No. Do I understand why this happened? No. But those are questions I will ask God when I get to heaven. But will I even have to ask Him? I know that when I enter into His kingdom, Sofia will be there waiting for me and I will be able to hold her for an eternity.