Life has a way of surprising you. We were not trying to conceive the baby we lost. We already had two sweet boys and were considering the possibility of a third (“the tiebreaker”) but had not planned to get pregnant any time soon.
But alas, our plans, or lack thereof didn’t mean anything when it comes to things like this. And if you aren’t actively preventing, anything can happen! I knew I wanted another child, and I think my husband was coming around to wanting another also, so when we turned up pregnant, we were both in shock, but pleasantly surprised!
I had a feeling I was pregnant about a week before I took the pregnancy test. I had been pregnant twice before and I am very in tune with my body. The slightest changes like swollen breasts, changes in smell, and little twinges in my abdomen were tell-tale signs that something was amiss. I kept it to myself until the first day after my missed period.
I hinted to my husband that I suspected I could be pregnant and being the logical person he is, told me that he wasn’t going to believe it until he saw a positive pregnancy test. Well, the next day I had proof, and it was positive immediately. I was super excited! The fact that we hadn’t planned for this pregnancy flew out of my mind, as pure joy flooded my heart.
I sent my husband the picture of the positive test and we both had to take a moment to breathe as our lives had just changed! I was all in immediately, but my husband was in shock for about a day or two. We celebrated by going out to eat dinner at an Italian restaurant (my favorite kind of food) a few days later to talk, to dream, to pray, and to revel in the joy of this unexpected blessing.
I remember feeling very good that week after the positive pregnancy test. I had a pep in my step because of the little secret we were holding until we were further along. I made an appointment to confirm the pregnancy in a few weeks and went about my days, taking care of our boys and continuing my doctoral studies online.
The night before the miscarriage was a normal night; there were no pains or aches or anything that would have alerted me to any problem. My husband woke up to get ready for work and I stirred a little as I heard him trying not to wake me. I felt the urge to use the bathroom and when I turned over, there was the feeling of a little gush.
But I paid it no mind as I figured my bladder was just trying to get me to hurry. I went to sit down on the toilet and when I pulled down my underwear, it was filled with bright red blood. I began to wail, and my husband rushed over to me and immediately took the underwear and put them in the trash.
He held me as I sobbed uncontrollably. I could hear him saying “Oh God”, over and over and I just went numb. He turned on the shower for me and helped me to get in, but the tears just kept coming, hot and angry and fast. My world was rocked. I felt like I was watching a movie of someone else experiencing this, it was like an out-of-body thing – I was present, but not present at the same time. The only thing tethering me to myself were my guttural groans. The knowing that what once was, was no longer.
The pain began as my husband tried to console me. He, unfortunately, had to go to work that day and could not stay behind to comfort me. The blessing was that my two boys were sweetly sleeping in their beds and weren’t awakened by my grief. They stayed asleep until I was able to get cleaned up and gather myself.
I called the doctor to make an appointment and got back in my bed. I bled so much. I felt like something had broken inside me and was pouring out. It was one of the worst days of my life. The physical anguish competed with the emotional, and I could barely put one foot in front of the other. My husband called our pastor and a few of our closest friends to alert them, and one by one, they called and offered words of prayer and encouragement. My body was numb initially, and my heart followed suit.
I knew God loved me, but I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. Why had my body malfunctioned after two healthy, successful pregnancies? I became very quiet and introspective. I didn’t know how to form the words to speak to pray. But if tears were prayers, I prayed constantly. I wasn’t angry at God honestly. In my scientific understanding of the reproductive system, I knew miscarriages happened, I just didn’t think it would happen to me. I knew I needed the strength to take care of my babies, so I pushed my pain down and hoped that God would hold me up.
I cried. A lot. I also threw myself into caring for my other two children. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I felt impressed to post about my miscarriage on Facebook that the grieving process started. I had reply upon reply, direct message after direct message, from other women and mothers who had experienced miscarriage.
Women I knew and had relationships with reached out – women I went to church with, women I worked with, and the community I needed grew right before my eyes. It pained me that so many women I knew had experienced this loss, but had never actually discussed their losses. It was then that I knew that I was to be the connector, the builder of community to provide these women and others like them an opportunity to share their grief. That was how I was able to walk through my grief then and even still today.
My faith was challenged by the questions I had for God about why I was experiencing this loss. I figured I had enough loss already, and my loss card was full of punches. I couldn’t wrap my head around walking through yet another personal death of someone I loved. I loved this baby so much already, long before I had heard its heartbeat. I had to give myself time to let my heart break and to be disappointed in God’s timing.
The good that has come out of my experience is all the ways that I have been able to comfort and walk alongside others who have experienced miscarriage/pregnancy loss. I have built a grief and loss community affectionately called “It’s All Grief to Me”, to support others experiencing miscarriage and other types of grief and loss. The bad is the missing piece of my heart that I lost when we lost our baby. Nothing fills the void. What would she or he have looked like? The ugly is the hardness of not knowing and the sting of memories we will never make.
A few of the women I was close to who had miscarriages showed up for me physically. They visited, held my hand, brought flowers, and let me know that I wasn’t alone. That was crucial. Loved ones far away covered me in prayer when I couldn’t pray for myself. My husband held me close. He grieved with me. We often forget or overlook the spouses/partners of moms who have endured this type of loss and I want to elevate his constant care and attention, while he too was in the throes of loss.
Today, I am here. I can speak and share my story without the acute pain I felt those 9 years ago. The pain bubbles up to the surface every now and then and tears flow freely as I have learned the hard way not to dismiss my grief, but to tend to it as a gardener tends to her flowers.
A little over a year after the miscarriage, I gave birth to our daughter, Logan, our final child. Again, I didn’t quite understand or agree with God’s timing as I became pregnant while I was still numb from the loss. I didn’t even realize that I had begun to shut out the possibility of getting pregnant again because of my fear of repeated loss.
While I had not grown angry at God, I had become apathetic. I was skeptical that we would be blessed with another child. But that skepticism was rooted in fear. Again, we were surprised by this pregnancy, but not because we weren’t prepared. We weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but we weren’t preventing it either. I was in awe that in the depths of my disbelief and fear, God didn’t count the overflow of my heartbreak against me.
When we found out we were pregnant, I wept. My husband was the one to call out that I needed to take a pregnancy test. I was so tight with fear that I didn’t dare allow myself to hope that I was actually pregnant. I felt joy, but also the sorrow of what we had lost felt more poignant. Despite it all, the feeling that rose to the top was a sort of relieved gratitude. Maybe I wasn’t broken. Maybe this baby would be safely delivered earthside.
Maybe God was listening to the secret desire of my heart that I had forbidden myself to even hope for.
This final pregnancy was uncomfortable. Every day, I was terrified. When I woke up to use the bathroom, I slowly pulled down my underwear praying that there would be no blood. However, I knew this one was different immediately. I felt like I held my breath until the moment I heard the baby’s heartbeat at the confirmation appointment. I cried tears of joy and loss.
My two boys were with me and they kept asking, “Where’s the baby? They didn’t realize that the little peanut on the fuzzy screen was their little sister, slowly, but surely being knit together in my inmost parts. I was sick all the time, but it was my sign that she was still with me. I had sheepishly prayed for a girl, and I was certain that my prayers had been answered as I endured morning sickness for months (I didn’t have much discomfort with either of my previous pregnancies).
But I dared not complain as the miracle that was happening in my womb echoed the one happening in my heart. As God was shaping and fashioning my daughter in my abdomen, he was holding me and restoring my heart and my faith. At our 20-week checkup, I received an affirmative answer to my prayers. We were having a little girl. A rainbow baby who would prove to be a balm in more ways than I could have ever imagined.
My delivery was short and sweet, and my perfect angel was born, loudly and with a head full of dark hair. I was even more in love with her than I had been the moment I found out we were pregnant with her. She clung to me instantly and I to her. We’ve not let each other go since. She is literally my little shadow.
WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT:
Dear sister, I wish there was a good explanation I could give to you to help you understand this loss. It is not something that I can say I understand even after all this time. What I did come to know and believe was that I was not alone. That God was with me in some of my deepest pain and He never let me go. I can’t say that a baby will or won’t come after your loss, but I can say that regardless of the outcome, you will come to know God and yourself intimately despite your loss.
I learned that I could trust the heart of the Giver of every good and perfect gift in His time. I learned that grief and joy can coexist and that your joy is not a betrayal of your grief. I learned that God was big enough to handle all my hurt, pain, sorrow, numbness, apathy, fear, disappointment, and every other emotion I experienced. I learned that God was with and within me and that no part of my story will ever be wasted, even the hard and ugly parts.
PRAYER:
Dear God,
Draw near to the heart that is breaking. To the one who feels placeless in her grief. To the woman who questions why she couldn’t carry her little beloved long enough to bring them earthside. May she feel your arms wrapped tightly around her. May she rediscover her worth in the stillness, in the quiet, even in the dark as your Spirit whispers your love to her again and again. Help her to know that you are acquainted with her sorrow and that you will hold her in the palm of your hand.
In Jesus’ name, Amen
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