Friday, May 8, 2015

This Should Have Been a Pregnancy Annoucement (But It's Not)


One morning in March, I found myself staring at two pink lines on a pregnancy test. Andrew and I hugged and danced around the kitchen, Owen followed us and laughed at our joy. We tried to explain that he would be a big brother and that a tiny baby was on its way to live with us. We dreamed of what this baby would look like, we planned the nursery, picked out names. We calculated our due date: November 15.

A few weeks later, I started bleeding. Just a little at first, but by the next day I knew something was very, very wrong. A trip to the emergency room confirmed my worst fears. A nurse handed me paperwork with my diagnosis at the top: spontaneous abortion. She took out my IV and told me I was free to go. And just like that it was over.

I felt numb and achingly empty. Just days before I had been literally full of life, carrying our child, the promise of our future. And suddenly that baby had slipped away, never to be held in my arms. For a few days, I could barely breathe. I curled up on the couch under a blanket, neglected the dirty dishes and the laundry, let Owen eat goldfish crackers and peanut butter M&Ms for breakfast. I bled for an agonizing week, each day a cruel reminder of what we had lost.

We had already told a handful of people that we were expecting, and in turn we had to tell them about our miscarriage. I'm so thankful we did. Our sweet friends and family poured out love and support, brought flowers and chocolate, sent cards, care packages, and messages of encouragement. Their kindness was the balm that lessened the sting of our pain. As the days and weeks went by, I adjusted to no longer being pregnant, accepted that November would come and go just like any other month in our lives, and focused on the many, many things we have to be thankful for. I chose to trust that God had already anticipated this loss and had plans to use it for His good.

We have healed and we are moving forward, but one thing that I continue to struggle with is the silence that surrounds miscarriages. In our society they are so often kept private, a guarded secret, almost as if they are something to be ashamed of. The grieving is all behind closed doors and the life and loss of the baby are barely even acknowledged.

What makes such a loss even worse is having to do without the support that is so desperately needed during such a difficult time. And so I'm choosing to stand up for all of the women who have suffered in silence and to have the life of my baby known. For the few weeks that I carried it, this baby brought us immense joy. And in the days when we knew we had lost it, immense pain.

To the mamas who have babies in heaven: you created and carried a life, no matter how briefly; that is something to celebrate. You lost a baby that you dreamed of and cared deeply for; that is something to be acknowledged. Know that you are not alone, and know that the life of your baby matters.

And to my darling baby: I will dream of you every day that I live. The promise of heaven is all the sweeter knowing you are there. All my love.

Sincerely,
Sarah

7 comments:

  1. I love you my dear... thank you for sharing your joy and pain with us... thank you for being brave and honoring your sweet baby's memory... you are truly amazing :)

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  2. Awe Sarah I am so sorry for your pain! Love you!

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  3. Thank you so much for sharing this.

    It's 2:30 in the morning and I woke up and scanned through facebook begging God for some form of comfort. I came across Lisa's (Brayda) post and am so thankful.

    I was due October 16th. On Tuesday I had some slight spotting and panicked. I was reassured that it was normal and most likely meant nothing. Thankfully I had a checkup the next day. I was 16w5days. The midwife searched for my baby's heartbeat with her doppler and couldn't find it. I was so panicked that I went totally numb. I hoped it was some fluke. She sent us for an ultrasound at the hospital. It was the first time I had seen my baby and as soon as I did I sobbed because he or she was so still. The technician apologized and told us that there was no heartbeat and that the baby had stopped growing a little after 13 weeks.

    We had already made our happy news public. Once we made it through the first trimester and heard the baby's heartbeat about a week before his or her life ended we assumed that we were in the clear. This baby is my parents' first grandchild and my grandmother & grandfather's first great grandchild.

    I am so heartsick, so in shock. And on Monday I have to go in to have my baby removed since my body still hasn't realized that he or she has passed away. I am absolutely dreading the emotional toll that I know this procedure will bring. I am comforted in a small way that my last day with my baby here on earth will be Mother's Day.

    I am so thankful for your words and your courage. Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for acknowledging the despair of anticipating a due date that has been stripped of its meaning. Thank you for articulating the crippling emptiness that comes with knowing that you are no longer carrying a life within you. Your words have brought a semblance of peace to my broken heart.

    I read a beautiful quote today by Lord Tennyson: "If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever."

    I am thankful that our babies are with God, where they are whole and perfect and happy. And I am delighted that some day we will hold them there.

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  4. Laura, I read your words with tears streaming down my face, I'm heartbroken for you. Thank you for sharing this, I wish I could give you a hard hug and cry with you. Please know that I will be praying for your heart on Mother's Day, on Monday for your procedure, and in the days and weeks to come.

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  5. Sarah, I too suffered a miscarriage. I know exactly what you are experiencing. Time will heal.

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  6. I'm so sorry for your loss. I have had 5 between each child. I promise you, you will go on to have more children and they will take this pain away. I am praying for your emotional and physical healing. God knows your hearts desires. Xxxxx

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  7. Sarah, I too suffered a miscarriage. I know exactly what you are experiencing. Time will heal.

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