Written SPRING 2019 (over 1 year ago)
I’m not quite sure how to express this story. I think that’s why I want to try. In early 2019, I was pregnant. Then, after a few months, I was no longer pregnant. We lost our baby due to a miscarriage. I am thankful for the opportunity I had to carry our baby. Through the heartache, I really do feel fortunate in so many ways.
Among the many lessons I have learned during this journey, one thing is clear: miscarriage is FAR more common than people are talking about. And that’s ok. Not everyone needs or wants to talk about their experience. I am hoping to provide my story to the narrative of pregnancy and loss. My story remains my own. I don’t claim to understand how other people feel when they experience miscarriage or lose a child. My hope is to provide perspective to folks who may, or know someone who, will experience a loss during pregnancy. It can be uncomfortable or awkward for some people to know what to say or how to talk.
*DISCLAIMER*: the story is LONG, vulnerable, and perhaps graphic for some people. It’s 100% honest. It’s sad…and hopeful too. If it’s my story, you know there is always something to be grateful for or a lesson to be learned.
I am so thankful for the people, especially women, who shared their journey of miscarriage with me. Just thinking about these women in my life who provided extra love through their own miscarriage makes me a little emotional. Each conversation was so sacred with these women. We shared something that was so sensitive. The pain was so relatable and stung in a strange way. These women and their stories provided hope, peace, and so much comfort during very dark times. I am forever grateful to these women for the vulnerability and honesty they graciously shared with me. I am also grateful to the fathers who have been there for Jacob. He has had some really tender moments with other fathers who have experienced miscarriage in their lives as well.
If you have questions or would like to process with me about pregnancy or miscarriage (for yourself or someone you love), I am here.
I remember warning my college roommates of my strange sleeping patterns. “Sometimes I hold my stomach when I sleep. I think I’m trying to keep the “9-month-lease” apartment of my future children warm”. (What a weirdo college roommate I must have been!). After I graduated from college, I found myself single, happy, working, and still hoping to raise children. Some days I toyed with the idea of becoming a foster parent or adopting a child on my own. All that to say, I think I have hoped to raise children long before I have hoped to be in a romantic relationship.
I got to a really healthy place and had this “I don’t need to be a biological mother to help raise amazing children”. I STILL BELIEVE THIS. AND ALWAYS WILL. I am a VERY proud Auntie, Godmother, neighbor, cousin, friend, and mentor. I take these roles SO seriously and am always trying to improve my service and love in them.
When Jacob and I met, we clearly did a lot of things non-conventionally. We fell in love FAST and got married fast too. After the whirl of our new marriage felt like it was becoming familiar, we moved jobs and states. The whirls haven’t slowed down. We make time to date, to dream, and to fall more in love all the time. I never really imagined I could really be in this kind of love with someone…and even more with time. It’s still blowing my mind. And it’s wonderful.
Jacob and I talked extensively about having children. We discussed questions like: How many children? When would we want to try to conceive? Adoption? How would we raise the children in our home? Do we feel financially, emotionally, spiritually, and physically prepared (not perfect) to welcome a child into our home? THE LIST CONTINUES over many days and lots of laughs. Jacob insists that there will be 17 children swinging from chandeliers in our home at some point in our lives.
After a trip to a village 3 hours outside of Guatemala City, I wanted to be sure I was physically healthy and cleared by my doctor to conceive a new baby. In the area I visited, there was a potential for the Zika Virus to be contracted, often from mosquitoes. Both Jacob and I made sure we had physicals and we checked in with my OBGYN about the trip. Once we were cleared, we tried to turn off any sort of expectations about dates or when/ if I would get pregnant.
Surprisingly, we learned I was pregnant about a month or so later. We were THRILLED! Jacob’s reaction was so tender and sincere. He kept saying, “Amy…we’re going to be parents” with so much awe. We felt so lucky. So thankful. And so so happy. We absolutely celebrated with cake from Icing on the Cake…one of our favorite bakeries. Only the best for the best news!
The next few months were sweet. We made the choice early on to share with very close family and a few friends that I was pregnant. We carefully decided who we wanted to share with. We decided we would share only with people we felt comfortable sharing about any potential miscarriage with. And I am glad we did. (Everyone is different and has a different opinion about this. The rule of thumb I have decided is: do what YOU want.) It felt so refreshing to have people feel JOY with us. We weren’t the only people embracing new roles. People were becoming/enhancing their roles as: aunts and uncles, friends, mentors, grandparents, great grandparents. They were genuine and happy WITH us.
We spent the next few months excited and happy. I felt my uterus stretching like taffy, sometimes with sharpness, and felt really tired often. It was hard to tell what was me feeling tired (vs. me tired “not-pregnant”). I had the urge to pee ALL the time, even just after using the restroom. My sense of smell was more sensitive. I rarely felt nauseous and didn’t throw up. My hormones were ALL over the place. I felt SUPER hot, SUPER chilled, dizzy, breathless, alert, all sorts of things.
At our 6-week ultra sound appointment, we saw our sweet little baby for the first time. That baby was so precious. Our baby was a little dot on the screen and its heart was beating. Jacob sweetly started calling the babe, “Little Bug”.
What happens next is when things started getting a new type of hard. At our 10-week ultra sound appointment, just shy of the second trimester of the pregnancy, we learned that our baby had no heart beat. When the sonogram tech put the screens on in that dark room, I knew that something wasn’t right with the baby. The baby didn’t look as big as my random phone pregnancy apps said the baby should be at 10-weeks. Our little baby had 4 limbs, a body, a head. No distinct fingers or toes quite yet. And no blood flow to the baby. The baby had died, stopped growing….and it’s sweet, lifeless, body was still in my body. I felt compassion for the ultrasound tech who knew what was going on and hated being the person to know first. They were sad too. I tried keeping my emotions composed to complete our doctor’s appointment, but I was quickly loosing it. I couldn’t even look at Jacob. His heart was breaking…for him, for me, for the baby. I was devastated.
And in that moment, I went to biology. Science. Facts. I have been in plenty of emergency response/ trauma situations where I have been trained to turn on the “problem solving” mode. I needed to get through 15-20 more minutes of logistics. What are the next steps? What do I need to do? What can I expect? More questions.
Our doctor extended so much compassion and held that space with so much reverence. He was genuinely sad for us too. We just learned that our baby had died. He shared with us the wonder and intelligence of the human body, noting that miscarriage is the body’s way of terminating an unhealthy pregnancy. He offered deep condolences to us and offered to help answer any questions we had. He explained choices for next steps and explained what may happen to my body over the next few weeks. He shared that over the next few days to weeks, my body would increase in the amount of blood discharged from my body. The more blood, the closer to the actual passing of the baby. He also warned that if there was too much blood, I should check in to a local emergency room for monitoring. I decided that I wanted to try to pass the baby naturally, if I could. We had scheduled a follow up appointment with the doctor before we left our 10-week appointment. If the baby hadn’t passed naturally by that time, we would opt for a surgery to remove the baby’s body called a D&C or “dilation and curettage”. I did not want that week(s) to come.
After our doctor’s appointment, Jacob and I went into the car. We quietly held each other for a bit and then let ourselves cry. I called my Mom at work and asked if we could come over. Without hesitation, she made time for us. We rushed to the hospital where my mom works and found her in her busy office, waiting with a hug and a mother’s love. She held me through my sobs and joined me in my sorrow. She hugged Jacob. We all cried together. She then shared with Jacob the story of her own miscarriage (in between me and my older sister). She understood the sorrow connected to loss, especially connected to a pregnancy.
We mourned with my sister. My Dad. Jacob’s siblings. His parents. Our grandparents. Close friends. We were all so devastated. No one knew quite the words to say. None of us did.
Meanwhile, the baby remained in my body like a shell. I knew I would have at least a few days before the baby’s body left mine. I would have just a few more days being pregnant with this little baby’s body. During that week, my physical and emotional hormones were all over the charts. My body, that for months was rapidly gearing up to grow a baby, was rapidly changing to discard the baby’s body. I can’t explain the quiet despair my heart felt that week. I couldn’t “look back” on the situation yet. I still had to experience the loss. It felt like one of the longest weeks of my life. I wondered what people thought as I passed them in the grocery store. They would never know I was pregnant with the lifeless body of our unborn baby.
I often think about that week and the people I interacted with. I think about the stories people have that I don’t know about. What is the story I will never know about the person at the grocery store? I am trying MUCH harder to be kind to the people around me and trying to give people a little more compassion. I’m not always great about remembering to practice this approach. The miscarriage has definitely shifted my perspective and helps remind me to pause a little more often and at least try to keep perspective.
My mom and dad brought dinner over the day after the news. They were “just in the area” and “happened to have take out” for us. Friends came over at just the right times with flowers, hugs, tears, and quietly joined in our sorrow. It was just what we needed. We received text messages, phone calls, and letters from people we loved. Although we didn’t respond quickly, we treasured every word of encouragement and empathy. My sister mailed “Forget-me-not” seeds for our garden, and a necklace with the inscription: “be still”. All of it meant so much to us.
One of the most meaningful moments was a walk with a friend. She had experienced her own miscarriage and invited me over for a walk. I didn’t know what to say or what I needed. We went out for a walk and she lovingly broke the ice. “Do you want to talk about it?” She gave me so much love and so much permission to be myself. I am thankful for that walk.
Over the next few days, I started having the worst cramps of my life. I could feel my body gearing up for the passing of the baby. I wasn’t trying to do anything either. It was astonishing to me how my body just took over.
After a few days, I reached out to Jacob’s brother, Aaron, and his husband, Henrique. Jacob and I had been planning to attend a friend’s wedding in the Central Valley of California. My bleeding had not increased a ton, so I did not anticipate the loss of the baby the next day or two. I asked Aaron and Henrique to meet us halfway from L.A. where they live to spend a day with us prior to the wedding. I thought it could be refreshing, especially for Jacob, to have family to see during such a terrible week. Of course we had been lucky to have friends and family around during the week…I suppose I was hoping to surprise Jacob and give him some comfort through family. Graciously, Aaron and Henrique arranged to meet up with us and surprise Jacob in Morro Bay, California. They were acutely aware of the situation and sensitive to the unique circumstances the weekend carried with it.
Morro Bay is one of the most peaceful places I have been. It’s a small coastal town with ships lining the harbors, the smell of salt in the air, and seagulls guarding the skies. On our drive down to Morro Bay, my bleeding started to pick up. A lot. And so did my cramping. I was feeling weak, tired, and dizzy from the loss of blood. The pain was tender from the sharpness of the cramps too. I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up not feeling any of this. Jacob and I talked about what would happen when the baby actually left my body. I didn’t want to make that decision. Should we save the body and bury the baby somewhere? I didn’t want critters to find the baby. Should we give the baby to a lab for testing to see what happened? We ended up deciding that flushing the body was the most humane decision for us. (Again, everyone is different about what is best for them…and every decision is hard).
When we finally made it to Morro Bay, Aaron and Henrique were there with open arms and a box of DELICIOUS Danish Pastries from Solvang. The closest thing to Copenhagen pastries we could have asked for. We all inhaled the treats together. We stayed up, talking, visiting. They were SO compassionate, loving, and kind. We made plans to visit the Annual Morro Bay Classic Car show down the street the next day and went to sleep.
In the middle of the night, I woke up with sharp pain and nausea. I hobbled to the restroom and for the first time during my pregnancy, I threw up. My body was chilled again, and hot at the same time. I felt like a monster and was just so weak and tired. I wanted to go to sleep. Jacob came and quietly encouraged me through what would be one of the most traumatic nights of my life. I am forever thankful that Jacob was with me. At that point, we both knew this was going to be the night. Jacob was so present and I could tell he wanted to just take all my pain away. I love Jacob so much and am thankful for the quiet dignity that he carries into our relationship. When the baby passed, I was holding onto Jacob. It was so painful and I was so emotional. The quiet tears were there for both of us. Jacob offered a prayer and we cried and said goodbye to our Little Bug’s body. The pain immediately began to ease. It was remarkable. I was still in a lot of pain, but hardly as much. I knew the worst was over.
The next morning was surprisingly peaceful. In the hotel was me, Jacob, Aaron, and Henrique. Everyone was aware of the night’s events. While Aaron and Henrique slept, Jacob and I took a short walk outside. We watched Morro Bay wake up with us. Slowly. Quietly. Peacefully. Shops were starting to open and everyone was getting ready for the Annual Morro Bay Classic Car Show. Seeing the shiny antique cars and their enthusiast owners was a happy distraction and a reminder that life keeps rolling on. Hard times come and at the same time, there is this beautiful renewal in “new days”. We looked out at the water and were finally given the moment we had been looking forward to: “the looking back” moment. Jacob and I didn’t need to say much. We debriefed just enough, but mostly enjoyed the comfort of each other for our new day.
Back at the hotel, Aaron and Henrique were so gracious to me and were so supportive to both of us. They were such terrific listeners and once we had processed through just enough, they brought in what we needed next: JOY. I don’t know how to explain it, but being around people who brought JOY was so helpful. Aaron started shouting out our third story hotel window: “honk if you looovve classiccccc cars!” to anyone who would respond. I’m sure the retiree town of Morro Bay was taken by surprise, but back in our hotel room, we gave into our first sincere laugh of the week. Once we got ready for the day, we went out and allowed ourselves to blend into the community of people. Aaron and Henrique ended up finding an accordion and kept charming this city by the harbor. We loved it. And for a moment, joy crept back in.
The tears didn’t stop right away. Sure, I wasn’t crying non-stop like a fountain. I absolutely let myself cry. I still do. Writing this has taken a few days off and on. I cry with gratitude sometimes. I cry from loss sometimes. I cry from missing a baby I will never watch grow up. I cried holding my friend’s beautiful baby the week after our baby passed. It wasn’t holding the baby that did it. It was the perfect fingers. The perfect toes. Our baby never made it that far. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel jealousy or envy of my friends when they have babies or successful pregnancies. In fact, I’m so happy for them. This has taught me how much of a miracle a successful pregnancy is. I have so much respect and empathy for the people that experience what they go through.
There is a tremendous TedTalk called “We don’t “move on” from grief. We move forward with it” by Nora McInerny. I loved what she had to say. Things like this talk helped me move forward through each day.
One of the most healing decisions Jacob and I made involved a little list of our blessings through this whole process. The list didn’t take away the pain of loss. At the same time, our “blessings” list offered us a much needed perspective of our situation. We felt we had many things to be grateful for, even through our sadness.
Here is what we came up with:
“BLESSINGS”
- timing of the doctor’s appointment
- away from home during the miscarriage
- we got to see our baby’s heart beat at the 6-week appointment
- Family…especially during the day of and day after
- We were able to be together. Jacob wasn’t at work
- Not out in the public
- Clean bathroom
- Nighttime, not the middle of the day
- Beginning of the weekend.
- Happy moments over the weekend: car show, wedding
- Morro Bay: beautiful, peaceful, quiet, good food, car show, park, accordion
- Plan for the actual event: prayer… the plan brought peace and lowered anxiety
- Having a back up plan: Tuesday: D&C
- Grateful that things happened naturally
- Didn’t see the actual body…so much blood
- Aaron & Henrique were so sensitive to the situation
- Baby wasn’t more than 8 weeks in size (stopped growing at that point)
- This happened early (vs. later) in pregnancy
- Lost a child during pregnancy vs. child during infancy
I recognize that everyone may not have a list like this to be thankful for during a miscarriage. People may not consider something we listed as a “blessing”. That’s ok. Everyone is different. I also do not want to dilute the pain of someone’s experience if they have gone through something in contrast to this list. All the while, I do believe everyone has their own list of blessings they can create during their own trials. The list may be small, but I really believe we can all make a list of blessings. I have learned that through the darkest moments of my life, I have felt so loved by family, friends, and medical professionals who have given the most sincere support to me and to Jacob. I believe that God is a loving Heavenly Father who really does mourn with us when we mourn. I believe He finds joy in our joy. I have seen the mercies of God through this experience and have felt tutored by Him as we have learned the lessons this experience has had for us. I am still learning. I’m still hopeful to have a successful pregnancy in the future. I feel grateful for the time I had to carry “Little Bug” in my body. I consider it a privilege to have carried that baby for any time at all, even though it was a shorter time than I anticipated. As I reflect on this past year, I am acutely aware of the love and intention God has in my life. I believe that we all experience situations for our own growth and learning. I have been humbled by this experience and indefinitely grateful for the increase of love that has poured into our lives because of our sorrow.
Through all of this, I hope I can be a little kinder, a little more understanding, and a little more patient with the people in my life and the people at the grocery store. I may never know what someone is going through or their entire story.
