Thoughts on my Recent Miscarriage - Part 2

Part 2 of 2 (read part one here)

Let me set the record straight. As a believer, I do not believe for one second that God took this baby away from me. I don’t believe he/she was “too beautiful to be on earth” or that “God wanted another flower for his garden” or an “another angel in Heaven.” No. God’s word says His plans for us are to “prosper you and not to harm you…” (Jeremiah 29:11) and John 10:10 says “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

Eric Matthews from Boy Meets World said very (in) famously, “Life’s tough, get a helmet.” So true. I just wasn’t ready for this. 

I never watched an episode of Dawson’s Creek but somehow, I follow James Van Der Beek on Instagram. He and his wife have five kids. 

The day I woke up after I miscarried, he timely wrote this: 

“Wanted to say a thing or two about miscarriages... of which we’ve had three over the years (including right before this little beauty). First off - we need a new word for it. “Mis-carriage”, in an insidious way, suggests fault for the mother - as if she dropped something, or failed to “carry.” From what I’ve learned, in all but the most obvious, extreme cases, it has nothing to do with anything the mother did or didn’t do. So let’s wipe all blame off the table before we even start.

Second... it will tear you open like nothing else. It’s painful and it’s heartbreaking on levels deeper than you may have ever experienced. So don’t judge your grief, or try to rationalize your way around it. Let it flow in the waves in which it comes, and allow it it’s rightful space. And then... once you’re able... try to recognize the beauty in how you put yourself back together differently than you were before. Some changes we make proactively, some we make because the universe has smashed us, but either way, those changes can be gifts. Many couples become closer than ever before. Many parents realize a deeper desire for a child than ever before. And many, many, many couples go on to have happy, healthy, beautiful babies afterwards (and often very quickly afterwards - you’ve been warned 😍). I’ve heard some amazing metaphysical explanations for them, mostly centering around the idea that these little souls volunteer for this short journey for the benefit of the parents... but please share whatever may have given you peace or hope along the way... Along with a new word for this experience.”

I have never felt like this was my fault but yes, we need a different word that doesn’t indirectly blame the mother. I really cannot bring myself to say the word, “miscarriage.” It hurts too much. I avoid it at all costs. 

It happened so fast. It was a whirlwind. It’s a grief like no other. A tiny baby died inside of my body. Every time I bled, I wondered if my baby was exiting my body. I bled for nine straight days. And I’m not sure which day when my baby left my body to meet Jesus. 

I’m heartbroken. There’s a constant lump in my throat. I am on the verge of crying. There is a pit in the bottom of my stomach. 

Today, October 15th, is pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day. I had no idea this day even existed until it popped up in my Pinterest feeds. 

---

I pitched my idea of naming our baby to Troy one night. I don’t think he had thought about it. I had heard about people doing this before and I knew if we did it, it would make this whole situation feel more “real.” So I didn’t want to do it but I knew this would help my grieving process. 

We threw around several unisex names. Of course, we can never agree on anything but we both really loved the name Micah. It fits with our name theme of our kids names ending with an “ah” sound. Micah means “who is like our God?” Taylor means “to cut” which seems very literal but we love the name. 

I am still grieving. I am still raw. I wish that after a month, the pain would have lessened. It hasn’t.

The tears are still flowing. The lump in my throat is constant. Random things still trigger my heart wrenching sadness. I feel empty. Empty physically literally. Empty emotionally. 

I’m learning to push through the pain and move forward. For myself, my kids, husband. I’m back at work. Back to serving behind the scenes at my church. Back to making dinner. 

Although my grief and pain is still very much present, I know my baby couldn’t be happier. He/she knew no pain. Just love. Love from our creator. I’m grateful for our Lord.

I pray to God that this is the only time in my life that this happens to me. 

One of my friends who doesn’t have kids, texted me and said that she thought it was cool that I shared my experience online [a few days on FB & IG after we found out]. She said she had friends who had similar situations and felt so alone. I never, for one second, felt alone. I never felt that I was the only one who had this happened. I know women have gone before me and women will come after me. I know friends and family who have had this happened to them too. 

I can’t fathom not sharing. Not for my glory but for my release.

I thought about it and it feels like a vicious cycle for those. Many women don’t share their pregnancies in fear that something like this could happen. Most of the time, everything is fine. And 1 out of 4 times, a miscarriage or stillbirth happens. Then those women that didn’t share their pregnancies are now hiding their miscarriage. Now, they are alone, sharing their pain with themselves and concealing their sorrows. How lonely. I’m not saying you need to reveal your pregnancy as soon as the digital test reads “pregnant.” That’s your business. If you do miscarry, don’t hold it in. You don’t need to blog or tell the world about it either but let some confidants know. Let those that have paved the way (and grieved properly) to help you process it. To pray with you. Pray for you. I am still having a hard time praying for myself, let alone anyone else but one day, I will pray and grieve with you. 

Bear with me as I struggle trying to find a new normal. Losing a baby has cut me deep. It may look like a bandaid on a cut but it’s much deeper than that.

I am so grateful for the Lord and for the gift of eternal life and I am so excited to see our little one some day. 

Thoughts on my Recent Miscarriage - Part 1

Part 1 of 2

I wasn’t prepared for this. 

Yes, this could happen to me. But, I never thought this would happen to me.

Be warned - these blog posts will feature inserts from random 90 sitcom stars and kinda graphic info on pregnancy and miscarriages. It will be lengthy but well, that’s the only way I know how to write. One of my best friends recently wrote about miscarriage (of which she has had 3) and she wrote “The more people who speak about miscarriage and loss- the more people who understand it.” So that’s the purpose of my writing: a release for me and for more people to understand it. Because truthfully, before September 6th, I didn’t fully get it. 

A month in and I’m still raw. broken. hurting. wounded. 

I’m just going to be honest. I never thought I would miscarry my third child. Troy and I first got pregnant in January of 2014. That was the first month we ever tried and we were fortunate to get pregnant immediately. We were blessed with the world’s easiest baby, Judah, so we wanted another one right away. Eight months later, we got pregnant again with our daughter, Alexa. Troy could just look my way and we would get pregnant when we wanted. (Is that how babies are born? I’m not sure yet.)

Alexa was a difficult baby. She was tough; everything was hard with her. Breastfeeding was crazy hard (hello, mastitis!). Her colic seemed like it would never end. She was night and day from Judah. Now, she’s 2 1/2 years old and the most easy going, sweetest child ever (especially if she has chocolate in hand). 

I had a really hard time recovering from Alexa’s birth. Postpartum anxiety hit me hard and I got diagnosed with hypothyroidism (pregnancy can trigger it). That’s another story in itself but we didn’t start trying again for two years. Before that, we could snap our fingers and I would be pregnant but for some reason this time, it took awhile. I have no idea why it didn’t happen as quickly as before. 

But finally after six months of trying (I know many couples try for a lot longer), we got pregnant! I could not even believe it. I found out before church on a Sunday morning. Troy is up at like 3am on Sundays so I never see him before service starts at 10am. I was elated. We had a meeting at 9:15am, service at 10am and another lunch meeting at 12pm. It wasn’t until 2pm when I told him. He was overjoyed and couldn’t believe it. 

Of course, I took 3 more tests for a total of 4 by 3 different brands and they all turned up positive. We were SO excited and honestly, just relieved. My parents live 1000 miles away in PA and were coming in less than two weeks to celebrate Judah’s fourth birthday with us. I have never told them in person when I got pregnant so I cannot even tell you how pumped we were to tell them in person. We ordered “big bro” and “big sis” shirts right after I dusted off my box of old maternity clothes.

I made an appointment at a new OBGYN that’s closer to our house since we moved a year ago. I had an appointment for an ultrasound at the end of the month. It didn’t feel real. 

On Thursday, September 6th, I took my kids to preschool then went to work as usual. I picked the kids up and drove home. Everything felt fine. Everything was fine. I went to the bathroom and found it. Blood. More blood. I started shaking and breathing heavy, on the verge of a panic attack. I pleaded with God, “No, God! Please, no!” I put on a pad in case of more blood. I called Troy immediately. I cried, “I started bleeding. It could be nothing. But, I’m bleeding.” and he immediately ran home. As soon as I told him, I kid you not, the flood gates opened outside and it started pouring buckets (hurricane leftovers). He was soaked when he got home. 

We tried to convince ourselves that this wasn’t happening and there could be a million reasons for this. He stayed home from work the rest of the day and I sat quietly on our couch, too fearful to move, just in case. Like somehow sitting still would save my baby. 

But I was in pain with cramps that felt like contractions and blood kept coming. I didn’t want to take any medicine to ease the cramp pain in case everything was ok.

I waited until the morning to call the OBGYN. I told the receptionist that I was terrified I was miscarrying. I held it together as I choked out the word “miscarriage.” She immediately transferred me to a nurse’s line. No one answered and I was forced to leave a “detailed message.” I lost it on the voicemail. I tried to pull it together but my voice cracked and my personal flood gates opened. I felt so bad for the person who was going to hear this message.

What felt like days were only hours when the nurse called back. The nurse said that it was mostly likely that I miscarried. She said I had a few options. I could wait a week and take a pregnancy test and if it was negative and I was done bleeding then that would confirm my miscarriage. Or I could come in right away to do some blood work then go in a few days later and give some more blood. They would compare the levels and see if my hormone levels went down to confirm the miscarriage. I took a shower and went to their office immediately. 

Seeing so many pregnant ladies in the waiting room made my heart break. That.Was.Supposed.To.Be.Me. 

I was constantly bleeding. I was screaming internally. My heart was breaking.

After several days, the blood work confirmed my biggest fear - a miscarriage. 

Although, we had only known we were pregnant for less than a week, we had planned out our lives with this little baby. We were so pumped to have Alexa become a big sister and for Judah to continue on his big brother role. 

I thought miscarrying would be a once and done event. Like, I thought you bled for an hour and then it was over. I didn’t think I would continually bleed and cramp for nine days. 

How am I supposed to move on? How do I carry on with life? To the outside, no-one knows what happened. I feel like I’m a walking wound. Sadness is overwhelming. Grief is my closest friend. Brokenness shoots in waves over my body. There’s a pit in my stomach. A lump in my throat. 

My biggest fear has come true. 

---


Read part two here.