This is the picture we took at the beach in May that we planned to use to announce my pregnancy with our third baby, who was due to arrive in January. I loved everything about the picture, because it showed the pure joy and excitement we were feeling to share the news that our family of four would soon be a family of five. Sadly, we were not able to use this picture for an announcement, because soon after it was taken we found out we lost our precious baby.
I have gone so back and forth about when and how to share our story of my miscarriage. It is almost hard to even type that word...miscarriage. Unfortunately, we live in a world where these things are kept quiet and maybe shared with a trusted few. Women are left to mourn silently and behind closed doors and feel like they can't openly talk about their loss. As I shared my story with friends and family (because I am pretty much an open book about everything,) I came to realize just how many people had experienced loss like ours. Nothing helped me more than the support of those that had been there, and I knew I wanted to share my story at some point in the hope that I could provide some support for someone else.
I initially decided I would open up about our loss when (and if) we were blessed with another pregnancy. I thought it would be much easier to share the pain when it was a distant memory, or when it was "erased" by the joy of a new baby. As I have walked through this season though, I have realized it is not a new baby that will make the pain go away, and I been convicted to share my story now.
We found out I was pregnant when we were visiting Sea Island for a work trip for Phil. It was a little unexpected (especially for Phil who can't seem to figure out how this keeps happening to us), but we were both SO excited. We knew we wanted to expand our family but had planned to wait until later in the year to start trying. I am one of those freaks that can just tell when I am pregnant, so I bought some tests on the way down to the beach at a drugstore without telling Phil. I took one on the first day of the trip, and it was negative, and then I tried again on the last day, and BOOM- (look closely, it's faint, but it was there!)
With the positive test brought all the excited emotions. On our drive home from the beach we decided we would not find out the sex this time, but agreed on a girl name and a boy name (we are seriously decisive and a little crazy). We also made plans to sell my car and get a minivan (yes a minivan, eating my words over here) and talked about turning our guest room into a room for Annie to free up the nursery. When we picked up Cole and Annie from my parents' house, we excitedly told them the news. We shortly after shared about our pregnancy with close friends and family.
As the weeks went on, something just did not feel right to me. I was so sick and flat out miserable with my first two pregnancies, and I just was not queasy AT ALL this time. Friends tried to reassure me that every pregnancy is different, and I tried to tell myself maybe they were right. I am a HUGE worrier, and I am pretty quick to think of the worst case scenario, so I hoped that I was just doing my usual thing and worrying for nothing. I was bloated and tired, and maybe God was just letting me off easy with no morning (all-day) sickness this time around.
The bloat was real ;)
The day before we left for our family beach trip, I had my first doctor's appointment. By my calculations, I knew I should be in my sixth week, so I was excited to see the heartbeat (since I had seen a heartbeat at 6 weeks with both Cole and Annie.) Once again, something wasn't quite right. I was measuring 5 weeks and 5 days, and there was no heartbeat yet. The nurses and my doctor reassured me that measuring a little off was totally normal and that everything looked great. I was POSITIVE, though, about my dates, and I had tested positive super early. My doctor said he would re-scan me right when I got home from the beach, but I left for our trip feeling a little uneasy.
Once again I tried to have faith and reassure myself that everything was fine and enjoy my beach trip. We had a great time with family, and I told myself when I got home I would get to see the sweet little heartbeat. We even took our announcement picture for social media (priorities, right?!) on our last day (the picture at the top of this post.) Phil wanted to take the picture, but deep down I did wonder if we would ever be able to use it.
When we got home from the beach, Phil unpacked and re-packed to go visit his mom in Alaska. I eagerly awaited my appointment that Tuesday afternoon. My mom was watching the kids, so I went by myself. My doctor wanted to do the scan himself (I think he wondered if something was off as well.) The second he began the ultrasound, I knew something was not right. I asked what was going on, and he said it did not look good. "Is there a heartbeat?!" I asked desperately. He said yes, but it was very slow. I instantly burst into tears as he told me what he saw, and pure devastation washed over me. I asked if there was any hope for the pregnancy to continue, and he told me a story of a time he was wrong. I finally looked at him and said, "Give it to me straight." He said he was 99 percent sure this pregnancy would not continue.
Hearing this, I just wanted it to be over. I know that sounds terrible, because this was a life and a gift from God, but knowing this baby was going to die and not knowing when was almost unbearable to me. I asked him how long and when it would be, and of course he could not give me an answer. He said he wanted to see me again in a week, and he thought the heart would stop beating by then. It is hard to even describe the emotions I felt leaving that doctor's appointment. I called my mom and my best friend absolutely hysterical. I was unable to reach Phil as he was on a deep sea fishing trip for 12 hours without cell service, which only made it a million times worse, because I had to relive it the next day on the phone all over again. When I got home, I just sat on the couch and cried. Sweet Cole came and sat next to me and held my hand and told me he didn't want me to be sad (he didn't know why I was sad...we had not told him yet, and I am thankful for that.) I felt so numb and just wanted to be alone, which I also hate to admit. You would think I would want to hug my sweet babies, and I did, but really all I wanted to do was curl up in my bed and cry.
My mom offered to spend the night, but I really wanted to be alone. I hardly slept at all that night. I stayed up crying most of the night. The hardest part for me was knowing the heart was still beating, but it would soon stop. It was also hard to share that news with others, because so many people had hope for me because there was a heartbeat. My dad called me that night and was so sweet and told me that only God knew the fate of this baby. While his hope was uplifting, I knew in my heart what the outcome was going to be. Having to prolong it felt like pure torture.
When I went to get Cole in the morning, I guess he could tell, because the first thing he said to me was, "Mommy, I don't want you to be sad. I want you to be happy and do the dishes." I will never forget that sweet little innocent heart, and it makes me smile to think that Cole thinks doing the dishes is my happy place. I was so drained that morning, though, I sat on the couch in my robe and let the kids eat goldfish for breakfast. They were smashing them on the rug, and our house was a mess. My best friend Katie, who was 8 months pregnant and has a two year old, came over at 7 a.m. Times like these are when you realize how thankful you are for true friends, and words cannot even describe how thankful I am for Katie and how she was there for me that awful week. She took one look at me and said, "I am taking the kids outside. Clean up your house and get dressed and then we are going to do something." She came over every day that week and either helped me or took my kids with her. It makes me cry just writing about it, because she took care of me at my lowest point.
Pool day with Katie and Marlie Kate
I ordered Chinese food that night, and my fortune said, "You will have many friends when you need them." It was a sweet reminder to me that God was going to hold me up and take care of me when I needed Him the most. He wrapped his arms around me in the form of my sweet friends, and I will never forget the love I felt from them.
While it was probably the hardest week of my life thus far, the one thing I can say is that God showed up BIG TIME. I felt his love more that week and the next than I probably ever have in my life. As I opened my phone that morning after my appointment, the first thing I saw was a post from a friend I used to work with. It was a picture of her one month old baby, and she said that it was exactly one year ago to that day that she had found out her baby had no heartbeat. She said looking at her sweet baby was a reminder that God has a perfect plan and promises a rainbow. I felt compelled to send her a message, as I thought it was divine timing that she shared that message. Her response and the support she provided my over the next few weeks was overwhelming and a true blessing from God. I probably connected with her more than anyone else, and the words she shared with me and encouragement and understanding she provided really helped heal my heart.
The week continued to be tough, and by Friday, I could not wait any longer. I called back the doctor and made another appointment. When I arrived at the office (with sweet Katie who came with me) my doctor said he had already cleared his schedule for Monday and scheduled my D&C. He wanted to do anything he could to speed up the process for me. He did another ultrasound, and this time he could barely find a HB. It was only beating at 20 beats per minute, and he felt confident it would stop within the day, if not the hour. It was weird to feel relief, but I was ready for our baby to go to heaven, and I wanted this nightmare to be over. I came home from my appointment to find beautiful tulips on the porch from a sweet neighbor who had also experienced a loss similar to ours, and a beautiful basket of flowers from another sweet friend. Both brought me to tears as I felt so cared for during my grief.
Over the weekend Phil came home. Initially it was a little bit of a rough transition considering he had been gone, and I had been dealing with everything alone. I felt like he wasn't mourning or grieving like I was, and it made me resent him. We struggled for a couple of days, and when I opened up to a friend, she and her husband insisted on coming over to pray with us. This was yet another example of God stepping up. When they left, Phil and I prayed and cried together. He told me how sad he was, too, and I was thankful to finally feel him opening up. We decided we wanted to name our baby, and for some reason we both felt in our hearts we were having a girl (maybe because in the ten minutes after I told Phil I was pregnant, we heard 3 songs- "In My Daughter's Eyes," "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," and "Dude Looks Like a Lady"...crazy!) We decided on the name Hope, because this baby gave us hope and reminded us of God's promises and love for us. We also felt something change in our marriage that night. Experiencing a loss like this brought us closer together.
I was feeling confident going to the doctor Monday morning, ready for my surgery. We had to go to the office first to confirm the heart had stopped beating, but I felt so much peace, I was certain it had. As my doctor started the ultrasound, I instantly saw the heartbeat flickering on the screen. I couldn't even believe it. My doctor confirmed that the heart was still beating...very inconsistently and the baby had not grown at all since 6 weeks, but there was still a HB. He once again told us he was certain this pregnancy would not continue, but he couldn't give us a timeline. He was off that Thursday and told me he would perform the surgery if I wanted to put myself through another ultrasound Wednesday. This was the point in the process that I absolutely LOST IT. I pretty much had to be carried out of the office and was beyond inconsolable. I honestly feel so bad for anyone that was sitting in that waiting room watching me leave. It was an ugly scene.
How was I crying for a heart that was still beating? Looking back, I do feel some guilt for that. That baby was mine, just for a short time, and I was his or her mom. In that moment, though, I felt so much fear and desperation. I wondered if this would go on for weeks or months. All I wanted was for God to take this baby home.
The rest of the day was a blur. My mom had the kids, and Phil and I came home, and I laid on the couch numb. I was drained and just so defeated. Phil had told everyone at work when he left that morning, that I was having a D&C that day. So when we got home, he reached out to everyone and explained what was going on. Once again, the love and support we felt by his co-workers and their wives can only be described as divine intervention. So many of the men called him and offered to pray with him or shared similar stories of their own losses. So many of their wives reached out to me and offered prayers and to bring food. My uncle also reached out to Phil and offered advice from his own experience with dealing with loss. The support was absolutely AMAZING.
That night, we decided to pick up the kids and do something fun. My heart was only half in it, but we took the kids to Catch Air. The time we spent with them there was truly good for my soul. We laughed together and enjoyed our babies, our two healthy, precious babies. It was a reminder that we had so much to be thankful for, even during a time like this.
The next night, my small group friends wanted to get together to pray for me, and this is a night I will never forget. As we sat outside on our leaders' porch, these amazing ladies spoke to my heart. Out of the 6 of us, 4 had experienced miscarriages. They let me talk and listened to everything and comforted me with stories of their own loss and the ways God had showed up. They prayed over me, and I left that night with a perfect peace. I knew I had an ultrasound the next day, but this time, I was okay if the heart was still beating. I trusted that this was God's plan and His timing, and I made the choice to love the baby in my belly for as long as I could. I had already seen the ways God taken care of me, and I knew that ultimately his plan was perfect.
The next day, I went into my appointment with a calm confidence. As the tech began the ultrasound, I covered my eyes. "Do you see anything?" I asked her. She paused for what felt like ten minutes and told me she didn't think the heart was beating. A wave of relief and deep sadness washed over me and I just said, "Thank you Jesus for taking this baby." I had so much fear for the unknown and desire for God to take the baby, that the amount of grief I felt in that moment hit me hard. I cried tears, oddly peaceful tears, for the life of our sweet baby. I felt an overwhelming sadness that it was over. I started to leave the office and realized I never got a picture. I came back in and asked the tech if she would print one for me. I wanted to have one, even if the little heart had stopped beating.
My doctor scheduled me for surgery the next day. I went into the surgery feeling peaceful and ready to start the healing process. It was honestly a very pleasant experience (as pleasant as something like that can be...I asked for a double shot of the "margarita cocktail" in my IV.) I went home to a delicious dinner cooked by a neighbor and rested with Phil.
The next few days and weeks were a rollercoaster. I want to share a few of the emotions I experienced and what I learned (a lot of which was shared by others who had been down the same road.)
First, no one would ever care for that baby in the same way that I did, not even my husband. I think this was one of the hardest things for me, because I did not want the baby to be forgotten. I almost didn't want to move on, because I didn't want to forget this baby, and I didn't want anyone else to either. One of the first things I did was print our announcement picture and frame it in our house, because I wanted a daily reminder that this was a life and a baby that was already loved. I think this honestly freaked Phil out when he first saw it, but it really has been a sweet little reminder for both of us when we look at the picture.
No matter how many kids you have, loss is still painful. I know we are blessed beyond measure with our two healthy children. I almost felt like I couldn't grieve, because we should be thankful for what we have. The loss still hurt, though, and it should be okay to grieve that life.
No matter where you are in your pregnancy, loss is still painful. I carried the baby for 9 weeks, and I can't imagine how it would have felt to have experienced loss later in pregnancy. I know there are many that have, though. There are also people that experience a loss earlier, too. When you are a mom, you love that baby the second you see that positive pregnancy test. It really doesn't matter if you carry the child for one week or 12, the loss still hurts.
Time really does heal. When I was in the pit of grief, I felt like I would never stop crying. We are coming up on the two month mark now, and my heart has really healed. I still feel sad when I think of the baby, but I feel peace about the situation, and I have hope for the future.
It is okay to talk about it. I found so much healing in opening up to friends and family members who had experienced pregnancy loss. Each of them provided support and just the words I needed to hear when I felt so alone. Even though it is a lonely place to be, you don't have to experience it alone.
God will show up, and He will take care of you. He does not promise the perfect outcomes, but he promises to love you through it all. His love for me has never been so evident as it was when I was dealing with the loss of this pregnancy.
I think one of the biggest things I have learned through this experience is how pointless all of my worrying is. I worried with all of my pregnancies about the worst case scenarios and wondered how I would ever handle a loss. Well I did experience a loss, and guess what...I am okay. God showed up, and I came out on the other side. The worrying, even in a pregnancy that ended in miscarriage, didn't change the outcome one bit.
I am moving forward from this experience with so much hope for the future. The hope doesn't come because I am certain God will bless us with another baby (although I do pray really hard that is in his plan.) Instead I have hope, because of the hope from our heavenly Father. I am His daughter, and that sweet baby was his child, and it is a hope that no matter what happens in this life, He will carry me through it. Thank you Jesus for loving me and for loving all of my babies more than I could ever love them.
One week post surgery. We sure have a lot to be thankful for :)
P.S. Thank you to everyone who prayed for us during this time. Thank you for the flowers and cards and meals and texts and for just being there. We have the BEST family and friends!
