I think this was the first time I recall going through every phase of grief - but not in a good way. I bargained with God, pleaded with Him, refused to accept the decision, fought against the decision, waited for God, grew impatient with Him and tried to "fix" the situation myself, and finally resigned myself to the decision. I was left broken, bitter, angry and completely separated from God. It took me a full year to realize that what had happened probably was the best result for our foster son, and that God wasn't some cold-hearted being who delighted in my suffering.
Nearly 2 years to the day that we lost our foster son, we received news that the precious baby for whom we had prayed and embraced was on the verge of being lost by us, too. This time, though, I found myself running to God. Even as I drove across town bleeding and cramping, I put on a praise CD and kept repeating, "Even in this I trust You, even in this."
I still pray this pregnancy will continue through the 9th month and that our baby will remain healthy and strong during his or her hibernation. But I've come to trust that whatever the outcome, I can lean on God and trust His heart.