My Miscarriage Story


My Miscarriage Story

In honor of October being over we are sharing three miscarriage / infant loss stories that we curated on our Instagram for this month.

I was raised believing the first time I had sex I’d get pregnant ... that all the women in my family were exceptionally fertile, heck, my sister was conceived though my mom used multiple kinds of contraception.

When my husband and I got married and decided to go for that “honeymoon baby”, there was no doubt in my mind that it would happen quickly, if not immediately. But that wasn’t the case. Instead we embarked upon an 18 month journey, full of medication that made me crazy, invasive procedures, and dozens of negative pregnancy tests. We were gearing up to start IUI, one of the last steps before IVF, but then it happened. I took a pregnancy test, expecting it to be negative and to start my period approx. 5 seconds later, but there were two lines on that test!

I fell to my knees and wept in thankfulness before the Lord. He was faithful. He saw us through 18 months of negative tests. We were going to have a baby! We were so excited and wanted to shout from the rooftops about our miracle. We told everyone. Our families, our church body, our youth group students. We wanted to be living proof of God’s goodness, His faithfulness. This baby was God showing up in such a real way for us.

We went to our first ultrasound feeling nervous but excited to finally see our little bean. But that little bean had been dancing in heaven for at least two weeks. Maybe longer. Our baby, our miracle, was gone. Worse still, my body had no clue. My hormones looked great on paper, but there wasn’t too much hope, his heart wasn’t beating.

For 6 weeks, I continued to carry that baby, to wait for my body to catch up. I grieved a life lost. I grieved the dreams I had for our family. And after six weeks, and taking medication to help my body realize that this baby couldn’t stay, the grief started all over.

Physically miscarrying was harder than anyone could have prepared me for. No one imagines washing their first born down the shower drain.

We had planned to wait the recommended three months to start trying again, but found ourselves pregnant again within two months. A baby that made its presence known the day my husbands father unexpectedly passed away. That week is still such a blur.

From the moment we found out I was pregnant again, I started spotting, which wasn’t a good sign. Every nurse I cried on the phone with tried to reassure me that spotting could be totally normal, that for some women they spot and go on to have healthy babies. I remember sitting in the bathroom at my mother in laws house, pleading with God to not take this baby too. That we were already grieving so much loss, how could we handle more? I miscarried on the day of my father in laws funeral.

It didn’t feel real, I was supposed to be a stronghold for my husband, for his family, and yet here I was, grieving another baby gone too soon.

The months that followed these losses were dark. I was angry. At God, at myself, my circumstances, everything. Why did God write all of this loss into our story? Why did he keep taking? I remember praying to Him, asking why did I have a story like Job? Why was I losing everything? Where were the promises that He cared for me and loved me, when I felt so forgotten?

Fast forward to the end of the year, and after counseling and reading scripture (fun fact, the first two women in the Bible who struggled with infertility were named Sarah and Rebecca, which happen to be my first and middle name, crazy) and I had just surrendered the pain and anger and chose to trust that God is good. Even when it doesn’t make sense, he was there with me, carrying me, carrying my husband, through the grief. He was going to use these ashes to strengthen us and build us into something beautiful, even if that meant not having children of our own. And then there came a day when his plan did make sense.

We got a call on a warm Friday in January about a baby who needed a safe place, a baby we had been praying for for months. And that night we cried tears of joy as this little human stared into our eyes and started to learn to trust us.

God’s hand in this is unmistakable. This baby’s momma and I had gotten pregnant at the same time. We had the same due date. This baby is proof of God’s good plan for us all. And then. Four months later, that pregnancy test had two lines on it again. Another baby.

I sit here, snuggling my ten month old baby, feeling baby brother punch and roll around, I’m overcome with God’s grace. With how much better his plan is. With how the losses I faced help me sympathize with baby’s momma. With how that grief grew and strengthened us enough to say yes to foster care. With God’s faithfulness to fulfill our hearts desires. God has taught me that in the depths, not only is he with you, but he knows the glory that the heights will bring. He sees the light of dawn when the darkest night is drowning you. I think of those two babies in heaven every day, and they have made hope for heaven so real for us; An eternity praising the father alongside them. He has good plans. Great plans, glorifying plans. Friend, be encouraged. Not that someday you’ll have a baby, or you will get pregnant, but that God is with you always, and he is using you to glorify his kingdom.
— Sarah O
Everything was going according to plan. We were married, careers were going great and we were thinking about the future and growing a family, you know, rainbows and sunshine. This story is obviously not rainbows and sunshine, and you might be wondering why I’m even sharing my miscarriage story at all. The truth is I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written, re-written and deleted this from my computer–too many to count over the past year. My intention in writing this post is not for sympathy or to bring you down, and it surely will have a different tone than the rest of my posts, but I’m sharing this story because it’s real and important. It happened, and I’m not going to pretend that it hasn’t changed me. I made a vow to never forget.

My story is important to share because after the miscarriage I found only a handful of women’s stories online and I took so much comfort in reading about their experiences. I had no personal friends who had experienced this at the time, so the stories I found online made me feel less alone in the grieving process. I’m sharing my miscarriage story in hopes that this brings comfort of some kind to women who might be walking through this journey and feels alone. But I also hope that for those who have never had a miscarriage, I hope that this post brings empathy and understanding so when a friend needs you, you can be there. That was one of the hardest parts of this process-needing to feel a sense of understanding from someone who had been there before me.

It was so exciting, the world felt somehow new again. After deciding we were going to “try”, we were pregnant a month later. Everything we had ever wanted seemed to be falling into place. We both were just in shock that it happened so quickly. The excitement was oozing out of us. We wanted to tell the world. Then the morning sickness began and I thought that was the worst thing that I would have to endure. I was sick all day long. I couldn’t eat anything, nor keep anything down. I could sniff out the smallest amount of garlic and would be sick instantly. This made me sad, because I love garlic and I was hungry, so so hungry.

Days went by and we were on cloud nine. Will it be a boy or a girl? OMG, what if we have twins? Oh my gosh, we need to move into a different house! We started planning our lives around our magical gift. Drs. appointments were made and rescheduled and made again thanks to a new insurance policy. I was worried about not getting in right away, but was told by the Drs. and friends they don’t usually want to see you until you’re at least 7-9 weeks so I was good. I found out I was pregnant so soon because I was tracking my cycle. I believe I was 5 weeks pregnant when I found out, it felt like I was already pregnant forever. I think the secret made it feel longer.

We finally told close family the news.

With all of the rescheduling of Drs. appointments and a new insurance plan, I finally found all of the best doctors in the city that had so many great recommendations. By the time we were going to get into the appointment, I was going to be 12 weeks pregnant. I was again reassured that it was fine and totally within the normal range of time.

Finally our appointment came. We couldn’t wait to hear the heartbeat. On the way to the appointment, we caved and called some of my husbands friends and told them the news. Although, we aren’t people who think that you have to wait to tell people you are pregnant, because honestly anything can happen at any stage of your pregnancy, it was more that we needed it to be documented proof that it was real. So far we had just seen pregnancy tests with pink lines. We wanted to see a baby and hear a heartbeat.

So there we were, I was 12 weeks pregnant and we were as excited as ever to finally hear our baby’s heartbeat. We were so ready for something fun, as I had the worst morning sickness and all I could do was barely go to work each day. Camera ready, we were all laughs and smiles and excited to see our baby. We were so hopeful.

And then the silence.

The silence swallowed us up. Somehow my heart knew before my brain and I just stared into the silent monitor. We heard the words, and we both just stared. Then it hit me all at once, I just started crying and saying I was sorry, over and over. I wanted to erase the pain and disappointment. Even though I knew it wasn’t my fault, in that moment it was. I felt it all. I took on all the possible blame. The thing is, I WAS sorry. I felt immense sadness for my husband, for myself, for our family, for our baby. I remember my husband asking the nurse midwife, “Are you sure? ” and that broke me.

I was so confused. I had no signs of miscarriage. No bleeding, no cramping, no blood. Maybe she was wrong? So many questions and emotions rushed through my mind in a matter of seconds. Our hearts broke into a million little pieces and in that moment, we were changed forever. I was changed forever.

I was 12 weeks pregnant and the baby was only measuring 9 weeks. The heart had stopped at some point around that time. My body for whatever reason did not recognize the miscarriage, hence the lack of blood or passing of the baby in a traditional sense. And because of that, my Dr recommended a D&C. This broke my heart even more. I immediately rejected that idea. I couldn’t do it. I knew that was the same procedure that women have for abortions and I couldn’t get that out of my mind. For some reason, this made it feel even worse. I can’t explain why this stuck out to me, it just did. I so desperately wanted this pregnancy and it was being forcibly taken away from me.

I only had days to make a decision. It wasn’t likely that my body was going to kick in and pass the baby naturally as I had no signs of a miscarriage in the first place and the Dr. told my husband that if things finally took course, I would most likely end up in the ER and need a blood transfusion from loss of blood. This scared him and we ultimately made the decision to have the D&C. But in the days that passed before the appointment, I prayed that my body would take care of things naturally, even if that meant I needed a blood transfusion or a trip to the ER, I really didn’t care.

The day came for the D&C. I’ve never had a car ride with my husband where we both didn’t talk. It was like we were both on autopilot. I thought if the nervousness I felt was anything like that of a woman who had a scheduled c-section or induction. But as soon as that thought popped into my mind, tears just started to flow. We were going in a family of 3, and leaving just the two of us.

The care I received was everything you could have hoped for. All the Doctors and nurses were absolutely sweet and kind, and very empathetic. I was so anxious. Before they wheeled me into the operating room, I started hyperventilating and crying. This was it. This was the end of this pregnancy. I didn’t want it to be over.

Miscarriage is a strange thing to walk through. As soon as you have one, you are told that miscarriage is so common, yet so few women talk about it. And it’s true, 1 in 4 women experience a miscarriage, and 1 in 25 experience two miscarriages. That’s a lot of women going through this experience alone.

Miscarriage is unlike most any other loss. With a death of a loved one, people expect you to be upset. You are expected to grieve and talk about it. Friends and family ask you how you are doing etc. With a miscarriage, people tend to act like nothing happened, or get highly uncomfortable when you bring it up. Or they try and thank goodness they try, but even still, it shouldn’t be so hard. The truth is, I don’t know how women go on without talking about it. It is already such an isolating feeling. I have one of the most supportive husbands on the planet, and I still felt alone.

One of my biggest fears was that this child would be forgotten. We can’t really go back to the before, so how could we ever forget?

All I know, is that when our baby does arrive earthside, she will be so cherished and loved. Whenever the time is, I know that it will happen. We remain faithful, and excited about the future despite going through this loss.

If you have experienced miscarriage, I hope that this post leaves you feeling a little less alone. All of your feelings are valid and you’re allowed to cry and care and wish it didn’t happen. You’re allowed to wonder why and you’re allowed to love something that you only had for such a short amount of time. We all grieve differently and finally sharing my story has me feeling somewhat lighter. My hope for you is that you find peace and the courage to try again.

Please share this post with anyone who may need it. I encourage comments so that we can support each other creating a community of support and understanding.

— Cristin W

Click Cristin’s photo below to be taken to her blog.

In loss communities this is how I am presented ... I am Taylor, one who has lost a fetus at six weeks along and a baby girl who was just shy of five months old. But what it doesn’t say is Taylor- my true testimony.

What it doesn’t show is me, after losing our first pregnancy, in my bed crying on my husband’s chest asking him why God would do this to us. What it doesn’t show is me, 15 months later on my knees begging to God for this new pregnancy to stick. It doesn’t show the fear and the transformation and the relationship that formed in between losing my first pregnancy and learning that our precious baby girl was going to die before she was even one. It doesn’t show that I NEEDED to experience my infertility to be ready to handle what was to come next. In the midst of losing my first pregnancy and struggling for another one, I had to really learn how to trust God.

How to listen when He said “I will carry you”. How to stop and pray when I was weary, when I was happy, when I was angry, when I was terrified, and when to pray to him to take my daughter into His arms because heaven was where she needed to be. It is My Testimony that was created. It was created through anger at God, created through heartbreak, created through joy among the sorrow, and created a passion to share how He created two little lives that were meant to change me, meant to change others, and here. For. A. Purpose.

My God is the one who gave me strength to tell all 8 doctors in the NICU conference room that Lily was going to do big things with her short life. My God is the one who gives me the strength to open up, even though I absolutely loathe emotions, and hope that other moms feel comfortable in sharing their emotions and their losses, no matter how big or how small. My God was the one that gave me peace and comfort when my child died in our arms in our very own home. My God is the one who gave me so much peace on the day of Lily’s service, knowing over 100 people were watching just online alone, to share how it was OK that she was gone, because I knew that truth; both the baby I never got to meet and my daughter was with our Heavenly Father now.

I cannot stand it when people tell me she’s in a better place because they are platitudes, it’s no different than saying “thoughts and prayers”. Nonetheless, they aren’t wrong, Heaven is in fact a WAY better place than earth. My two sweet babies will never know sin, they will never know suffering, and they will never know anything other than the love of their parents and the love Jesus has to share. These feelings would not have come had I not had my first loss, had God not turned me toward him, had God not chased after me like he did. I do not deserve His love and His grace and His mercy, but yet here I am, sharing what the Lord has done amidst the heartbreak.

Loss sucks, like really sucks. I cannot explain it any other way, but it is also amazing. What God can do to you in the midst of it. Many don’t appreciate that when I say that somehow loss can be amazing. It’s not “normal” or really that sensitive to be honest. I am not a sensitive person though, I’m honest, I’m blunt, and I will never shy away from sharing the truth on how this truly affected me. However, I’ve never felt so bold in the Truth of our Lord because of it.
— Taylor C.
Sincerely KindredComment