Yesterday was easily one of the worst days of my life.

At around 9:30 in the morning, I hear my phone ringing at work and on the caller ID notice it's my wife's cell number. She had gone to see the doctor that morning for a 12-week checkup on our baby due in October.
Whenever I see it's her number I don't go through the formal "Christian Index, this is Scott" biz. A simple "hey" or "How ya doin'" is fine. This time I picked up and asked, "How did it go?", referring to the appointment.

After a moment of silence, she softly said through her tears, "It's not good."

A moment later she told me that the doctors couldn't find a heartbeat. She had miscarried the baby. It's cliche, but this is one of those things that happens to everyone else. Not you. I instantly started crying, said a few more things before letting her know I was on my way. Hung up. Cried some more. Told my co-worker, Kelly, what had happened. Got my stuff. Asked her to tell everyone to be praying for us, and walked out the door. In the parking lot I broke into a run toward my car. I had to get to Amy.

On the way home I turned the radio off and sat in silence. Crying came and went. They were those cries where you hit the dashboard and don't know snot is coming out of your nose until it reaches your lip. She had to stay at the hospital a while longer, so I actually beat her to the house. When she got there I went to her and we hugged each other, cried and apologized. For what, we didn't know, but that was about all either of us could think to say.

The rest of the day was long and a blur at the same time. Phone calls to our families. I called a guy in our church small group, Gregg, who let me know he and his wife, Lynn, had gone through the same thing. Even though he was at work as a middle school guidance counselor, he prayed with me over the phone. Amy had to drive back to the hospital to schedule a D&C to remove the baby, so I went to our daughter's school to pick her up. While there, I learned from her teacher how she had gone through a miscarriage and underwent the same procedure Amy was scheduling at that moment.

Getting home, I gave Rylee and her friend, Reese, their lunch and put them down for a nap. First though, I explained to Rylee as best I could what happened. We didn't want our families to get there (they were on their way) and Rylee be confused as to why they were sad and start asking questions. I felt clumsy telling her (Amy did a much better job when she got home). I explained that the baby went to heaven. She asked why. I said something was wrong with it and God took it to heaven, but mommy will have another baby soon. Other stuff was said, but that was the main part. I held it together okay until Rylee started to tear up and say that she wanted the baby (calling it "her" baby) that mommy already had. She had already been excited about being a big sister.

My folks and younger brother arrived. Hung around. To try and just do something, my dad, brother and I go outside to work on my Jeep. That night we all went out to eat.

A storm of emotions have gone through me. I've realized that I experience a concoction of feelings whenever I hear Amy or, when it's not just a 3-year-old's temper, Rylee cry. First comes guilt, because if they are sad I didn't protect them. Anger follows because whatever caused this must pay. Also mixed in there is sadness due to the fact that they are unhappy and a try-and-fix-it mentality that often does more harm than good. There's some kind of papa bear mentality in me that stirs whenever my daughter or wife are hurt, be it emotionally or physically.

We understand the basic rationale for miscarriages. Something was wrong and it's the body's natural way to end the pregnancy. Doesn't make it any easier. Through all of this, though, we both know Jesus grieves with us and holds our future in his hands. God has loved us through the many people who have called and told their own stories of losing a baby. Friends have told us to let them know if there's anything, anything they can do. People just say that, but I know these folks are really there.

It's a rough time. Right now the emotions are still raw. It's hard to believe getting past it, but I know we will.