Wesley and I are the statistic. We are the 25%. We are the one-fourth of the population to suffer from pregnancy loss. And as stigmatized as it is, I want to open up about it- in hopes that this post may bring comfort in the fact that you aren’t alone. Any maybe bring healing to another couple who is going through the same thing-perhaps even still healing to myself.
It happens. It sucks-but it happens.
We found out we were pregnant in early July 2015. We were both ecstatic. We cried, we laughed, we dreamed of the child we would soon hold in 8 months’ time. March of 2016 couldn’t come fast enough!
Each week went by smoothly & my belly slowly began to become pudgy. At each doctor appointment we were given a bill of good health. It was at my 12 week appointment, late August, when the news came.
Wesley had just taken a new job and couldn’t get off to come with me to see our baby’s heartbeat for the first time, so I had my mom come with me. We were giddy with excitement the whole way there.
The ultrasound tech pulled us into the room and it was go time! Only…there was something off.
The tech wasn’t happily chatting away about what we were seeing on the screen. Her face held a confused grimace and she clicked and scanned away on the computer. I knew immediately there was a problem- I couldn’t see a heartbeat, but I was too afraid to ask about it. I just stared at the screen, feeling sick to my stomach and heartbroken.
She printed pictures, took us to another room, and said the doctor would be with us shortly.
Mom tried naming off all the positive things that it could be….
“Maybe you aren’t as far along as you thought…”
“Maybe the baby was just in a position where the heartbeat couldn’t be seen…”
But I knew.
I didn’t need the doctor to tell me. I knew my baby had gone to be with Jesus.
The doctor came in and confirmed my worst nightmare. The baby had appeared to stop growing at 6 weeks. She was extremely delicate with the situation and made me feel as good as I could with the news. (I can’t imagine being in the position to tell someone that their unborn baby has died…but she did it beautifully.)
I was offered 3 choices. I could wait it out and let my body handle it on its own, I could take a pill that would induce the miscarriage, or I could have a D&C. Because I was due back at school from summer break the very next day, I opted for a D&C. I couldn’t imagine going through teaching with a miscarriage taking place…or wondering when it would take place.
We scheduled the procedure for the next day and my mom and I left the office. Both being strong Christians, we held on to the fact that this was God’s plan and he meant if for good. The hurt was real. Very real. But this one small thought helped.
Now I had the hardest job- to tell Wesley that our dreams were being postponed. Our baby was going to be rocked to sleep by Jesus that night. When he walked through the door that afternoon, I immediately burst into tears and explained what had happened.
Again we cried. We prayed. And we tried to trust God as best we could.
After the D&C, the healing process was tough. There were so many emotions. Seeing women who were pregnant hurt more than I could ever explain—and what hurt just as bad was the fact that I was a bit angry towards them. I hated that they were pregnant and I hated that I hated it. I prayed that these feelings would leave me and that I could be joyful for those who were pregnant.
I missed my pregnancy. I would cry randomly at the fact that even though my belly was still a little swollen, it housed nothing. It felt like a tomb. I trusted God, but I still wanted to know why He wanted our baby back.
Hurt. Confusion. Guilt. Jealousy. Four words that I would have identified with during this time.
The thoughts that helped me cope as best I could were that our baby never new hunger. Never knew pain. Never knew what it was to be cold. Never knew evil. Our baby was with our Lord and Savior. I would see our baby again.
As the days and weeks ticked by and slowly the months began to change, Wesley and I decided to try and get pregnant again. As I pushed my focus towards this, I began to not think about the miscarriage as much. And THIS made me feel guilty. “How could I just stop thinking about the child we lost?” “Our baby deserves more respect than this.” My mind was playing cruel games with me. I’d have a good day, not being upset, and then BAM! I’d put the guilt trip on myself about it and become upset again.
I knew this wasn’t healthy. God called our baby home. God didn’t want me upset all the time. He wanted me to make peace with the situation, trust Him, and find the joy in life once again.
It was a long road healing 100% from the miscarriage. And I still think about the baby from time-to-time- but when I do, I’m not sad. I just think about how I have a child in Heaven waiting to meet me. And when I die- that is the first thing I want to do.
If you are going through a miscarriage currently, I am sorry. I know the hurt. I know the pain. And even if you believe it or not, I know that you will one day be able to cope with it. I don’t want to say “get over it”. It may not be something you will ever “get over”. But you will see joy in life again, you will find happiness.
Take as much time as you need to grieve. Don’t let anyone tell you that you need to move on. I believe if you stifle the healing process, you will only make the hurt worse. The hurt is real. But it will get easier.