Category: grief

*warning: contains possible miscarriage or fertility triggers*

As my husband, Lilah and I are in this new season with our sweet rainbow baby, we are full of gratitude. I can’t help but reflect back on the past couple years and our journey of loss before getting where we are today. Joy.

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Just over a month before my daughter’s first birthday, my husband and I found out that we would be expecting our second child. One late evening after a missed period, I took a pregnancy test. With a bit of disbelief, I found myself double checking the faint second blue line before my eyes. I burst out to Elliot from the bathroom, “WE ARE PREGNANT!”

Tears of joy from my excitement streamed down my face as he came rushing in to embrace me. We shared several moments cry laughing together with hearts of thankfulness and anticipation of the news that a new life that would be joining our family. It was from that moment our baby was real to us. We began making plans for our new life as a family of four. We even began brainstorming names that we would both agree on.

Several weeks had past since the exciting news came to light and I had my first OB appointment. We sat in the ultrasound room with anticipation to confirm our pregnancy. There it was on the screen in front of us. Our sweet baby with a flicker in the center – its beautiful heartbeat. In that moment our hearts swelled with love for what would be, and what already was. Our new little love.

Within seconds those feelings would change. At this point in time I knew I should have been just over 9-weeks pregnant. The ultrasound tech enthusiastically told us that baby “looked great” and congratulated us. She went on to explain that the heartbeat was strong but that I was actually only 6-weeks. If it weren’t for my maternal instincts and knowledge of timing, I would have left the office that day with a content heart. Instead, my heart filled with anxiety and my stomach sank. It could not be. I looked at Elliot without a blink of the eye and said, “Elliot, there is no way that can be – something is not right”.

A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to find a reason for why the baby’s size could be off. I continued to repeat the ultrasound tech’s words in my mind over and over – “there is a strong heartbeat, your baby looks great.” I just couldn’t.

Over a month went by and I was due for my next appointment. This should have been an exciting time. As much as I tried to remain optimistic over the past several weeks, I could not seem to shake my anxiety over the situation. It was the Friday night prior my next scheduled appointment that things began to take a turn. I had noticed some brown spotting – so light it was almost non-existent. This did not seem normal to me as I had never experienced this during my daughters pregnancy. I did what most people do and jumped to google (I know. I know – not the most helpful in most situations). Everything I saw assured me that this spotting could be perfectly normal. I remained skeptical. That night I did not sleep more than a few hours. I was scared. I was unsettled. I was confused.

The next day the spotting turned pink. No pain. Just pink. By Sunday, red. By now, I knew something was terribly wrong. The spotting progressed in color and in volume over the course of that day. My family advised me to call my doctor however with the growing pit in my stomach, I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to know. It couldn’t be. Not me.

Sunday morning Elliot and I bundled our daughter up to go to church. This morning was a different one for me. The first song of worship began. I could not sing. I could not get the words out of my mouth no matter how hard I tried. I stood there with tears welling up in my eyes. I was rocking and swaying back and forth clinging to my belly. I did not want to lose my baby. I wanted to protect it, but yet I felt so out of control. I wanted our happy ending. I wanted the ability to bring my second child into this world.

It was during the next song where my heart had a shift. Not because it was easy. It wasn’t. It was gut-wrenching but I knew it was what I needed to do. In that moment I handed my fear to the Lord. Both arms went straight up to the sky as I wept in full surrender – tears streaming down my face and my body shaking. I cried out as I sang. I chose to praise His name amid my pain.  I cried out, “if this is your will, I will trust”. I did not like this outcome. I did not want this to be part of my story. But I trusted Him.

That night I ended up calling my doctor. She calmly but swiftly let me know that I needed to be seen first thing in the morning. She advised me to remain calm. Remain calm – how on earth could I stay calm? Instead I was a mess.

That night I woke from a strong a gush. For those who have experienced your waters breaking, that was what it felt like except when I looked I was in a pool of blood. Contractions set in, and strengthened over time. It was horrible. I went to the shower and wept again. Hours passed and I could not get comfortable with anything that I tried. I knew that my body was in full labor. This just wasn’t suppose to be.

The following morning, we had informed my parents and they came to sit, cry and pray with us before we would go in to the doctor for confirmation. When we arrived, they confirmed I had been miscarrying our child. They went on to explain that nearly 1 in 4 pregnancy’s result in miscarriage. This was shocking to me as it is a topic that is not often spoken of. The doctor informed me that my body had run its course naturally (as best it could under the circumstances). How could it be. One minute I am pregnant with an expectant heart, and now, just like that – I wasn’t. Numbness came over me. I wasn’t sure how to feel or what to think. We left the doctors office that day filled with deep sorrow. Worse – I had believed that everything had taken course the night before with my painful experience. I was wrong and so was the tech. Roughly an hour after leaving the clinic, I passed our little one. The love I would not get to keep with me on this earth. My love that I had to give to Jesus. At just days shy of 15 weeks I held my little in my hands and sobbed. I was in shock. I was devastated.

This was where we would begin our journey to healing through the stages of grief. It wasn’t easy and it did not always make sense. Some days were better then others. I would continue the process of lamenting myself to gratitude – talking with God and letting him know that even though I was hurt, sad and even angry, I knew he was with me and would not forsake me.

When we experience trauma, it is easy and almost instinct to try to suppress our feelings. Numb yourself even. Tell yourself you are okay. Even pretend to be okay. A special person told me, “Julie, allow yourself to feel.” Those four words are what gave me the freedom to truly step toward healing. These are the words I clung to for the better days ahead.

Some of the hardest feelings to overcome were the feelings of guilt and shame that I experienced. Even though the doctors assured me that there was nothing I could have done differently to change the outcome, those feelings swarmed my mind. Comments from people who had not experienced such loss were also painful at times even though it was far from their intention. The gestational age of the baby is not a meter of how one should be affected or grieve the loss. As the due date came near, we would begin to think of milestones and the moments of what wouldn’t be.

It was a slow process. I have now come out on the other side of grief – standing in acceptance but I will never not acknowledge what was. I will always acknowledge our ‘middle child.’

5 things I learned from my experience with loss:

You are not alone.

I have chosen to share the intimate details of my story for the one who is going though this currently or has experienced it in their past. I also share for the individual who wants to gain perspective on how to best engage the topic, love and support someone going through such a loss. Miscarriage is hard. It is something that people tend to shy away from in conversations because it can feel awkward or uncomfortable. Being that it is not talked about, we can feel as though we are the only one going through it. Statistics show that’s simply not the case. Since I have chosen to share the story of my loss, I have been shocked at how many people have responded with the fact that they too had been through a miscarriage or suffered infertility. It has been in those very moments that I have found common ground with the women standing in front of me sharing vulnerably. It was in those moments that I realized I was not alone. There are countless others who feel my pain and know my experience all too well. You. You are not alone.

We are not created for self-reliance.

Often times we hear the phrase that God does not give us anything we can’t handle. I beg to differ. I believe that unfortunate circumstances in our life happen as the valleys are inevitable. It is in those moments we can see that we were not created for self-reliance. God’s desire is that we rely on him. That we seek Him in the midst of hardship. That we allow Him to help us through on His strength not our own. May you rest with these promises tonight, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10 NIV).

Allow yourself to feel.

Your feelings matter. They are not to be ignored but rather worked through and understood. In times of trial, it is important that we go through it not around it. This includes going through and acknowledging the process of letting yourself feel those feelings. Even if they hurt. Even if they seem unbearable. Allow yourself space for this. Allow yourself grace for this. Ask yourself what is happening in your heart. Be sure to allow all stages of grief.  We see in the introduction of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches his disciples the beatitudes,“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Mark 5:3-4 NIV).

Acknowledge your little one was.

One thing that I quickly became aware of was that one day our little one was in our life  and the next it wasn’t. But yet, the pregnancy and that baby was still part of our story. I did not want to go through life not acknowledging that the pregnancy took place. I did not want Lilah to grow up not knowing that she was a big sister X2. And I sure did not want to miss out on the opportunity to share the way in which God made beauty from ashes and provided the calm in our storm. He makes all things new. This ignited my desire to find ways that we could acknowledge and hold on to that piece of our heart. I don’t necessarily share the nittty-gritty with everyone, but I do try to make mention when people ask about our family and children. I simply say that we had lost a little one between our daughter and son. We also created a Christmas ornament in memory of our little as a sweet reminder that hangs on our Christmas tree each year. There are many other ways that you could honor your lost one. Just maybe, as you honor your lost one, someone may find that it is okay for them to honor theirs too.

Know your people.

We are not meant to journey alone. Who are your people? It is more than okay to rely on them. I could not have gotten through without my sweet husband, our parents, family and our close friends. Share as little or as much as you want with them, but I believe there is power in processing with others. Furthermore, if you have a significant other lean in toward them. It is hard for them to process what they are experiencing too. Allow the circumstance to draw you near each-other instead of away.  Do you have a faith community? Let them be your prayer warriors when you don’t know how to pray. Maybe they would even be able to provide resources for you or set you up with someone who has been through a similar experience. Don’t be afraid to ask. Whatever it looks like for you – know where you safe spots are.

I close with this,”Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying. When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them. Always be eager to practice hospitality” (Romans 12:12-13 NLT).

With heart,

Julie