I recently took a Birth & Trauma workshop provided byHoly Yoga Global and @midwifedoran. One of the tools discussed to promote healing was to share your trauma story and the emotions experienced.
Last October, I wrote down my personal story of loss a few weeks after my miscarriage. I finally feel ready to share what I wrote to help with my personal healing and to increase awareness. You can read my story below.
I also share a picture of Andrew who is my sweet “rainbow” baby to provide hope and to remind me of God’s faithfulness.
My 2020 baby that will never be:
Miscarriage. A word that I had heard few and far between in my 26 years of life. I knew of one or two ladies in my entire family and friend circle who had experienced a pregnancy loss. They were older and had health or hormonal issues that I assumed had been the cause. I felt sad for them of course but figured there were certain factors that had played into it. Miscarriage is something that unhealthy or older women experience. Not something a young, strong, and healthy woman like myself would be susceptible to. How incredibly wrong I was!
I did everything “right” for my pregnancy. I waited until I was married (8 years later to be exact! ), was off birth control for 3 months, took prenatal vitamins for months, never smoked, rarely drank, ate well, and exercised often. I am a yoga instructor after all! I tracked my ovulation closely and was thrilled to see scientific proof I had indeed ovulated and we had timed our conception appropriately.
I found out I was pregnant at 4.5 weeks into the pregnancy. I had experienced bleeding a week earlier that I thought was my period, but my rising temp and exhaustion had me guess otherwise. Low and behold! Not one, but two positive pregnancy tests. My husband and I were thrilled and terrified.
I saw my doctor the next day and after some ultrasounds and tests were able to rule out the bleeding had anything to do with an ectopic pregnancy. I returned a week later and was blessed with having the opportunity to hear and see my baby’s heartbeat flicker on the monitor. I was pregnant and due at the end of April 2020!
I spent the next 2 weeks excited and humming through every online baby checklist and article I could find. I started our registry, told our family and friends the exciting news, and started to prepare for our announcement photo that we would share on social media at 12 weeks. I felt exhausted, nauseous, and gross, but I was pregnant! I was going to be a mom!
Until I wasn’t. At our 8 week appointment, I was so excited for my husband to have the opportunity to see our little “Brownie” on the monitor and to hear the little flickering heartbeat that God had created through us. The doctor talked us through what to expect during the next 7 months and answered our questions. Then it was ultrasound time!
After a minute or so. we heard the dreaded “I’m sorry. There isn’t a heartbeat.“ that I’ve read and heard about in movies and books. I couldn’t believe my ears and I prayed that it would be a mistake somehow. Surely the machine was malfunctioning or the doctor missed something. The doctor allowed us to see the screen and I saw that the flicker I had seen just 2 weeks ago was indeed no longer there. My heart broke, silent tears rolled down my face and my husband’s face went sheet white.
We waited over a week for the miscarriage to happen, and when it didn’t I had a follow-up appointment to confirm the situation was the same. I prayed and prayed for a miracle, but again no heartbeat. I decided to take medication to start the process and miscarried at the 9.5-week mark. And my life will never be the same.
Today I would have been 12 weeks pregnant. I would have announced it to the world with a cute little announcement photo. I would have been liking and commenting on all the “congratulations” and “I’m so excited for you” comments. But I’m not. Instead, I am writing this because I honestly don’t know what else to do. A piece of me died when I found out my baby died. Miscarriages happen, but no one told me it would happen to me.
I love the Lord and follow Jesus. I’m not angry at God, but instead am desperately clinging to His truth: He created me, He loves me, Jesus died for me and I have hope in Him. I pray, I read scripture for comfort and I am surrounded by women who love the Lord and have been through exactly what I’m going through. I know God is using this to strengthen me and that He is with me in this dark valley. I also know that there is hope and that I will have a child one day. But the pain and suffering is still very real.
With each new week, the grief and sorrow lessen and life starts to feel more normal. Sometimes, a few hours will pass and I forget I was ever even pregnant. When I suddenly remember, a new wave of grief hits me and the healing process starts all over again.
I am living life day by day and trusting the Lord’s plan for my life. He is good and I know He is walking right beside me. I have hope and joy because of Jesus and even if I lose another pregnancy, His promises for me won’t change.
“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”