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Miscarriage/Pregnancy Loss
CaliWhit
member
Sanctity of Human Life Sunday + My Miscarriage Story
CaliWhit
member
Psalm 139:13-16
Tomorrow is national “Sanctity of Human Life Sunday”. I never knew such a day existed until about a week ago, when our church announced the theme and passage for the coming weekend's service. Now, however, I am painfully aware, and strongly in support of, its existence.
My husband and I always knew we wanted kids—it was just a matter of when. About 10 months ago we decided it was time and we started trying to get pregnant. Of course, everything you read and everyone you talk to says, “Oh, just give it time; it may take up to a year, sometimes more. But it will happen when you least expect it!” Great advice, if you have the patience of Job. Finally, after 8 months and what seemed like an eternity of trying, hubby and I were overjoyed, and in disbelief, to find out we were expecting!! We immediately told close family and friends, unable to contain our pure joy and excitement to be welcoming a little one into the world. Around that same time we found out several of our friends were also expecting, with dates pretty close to ours —one of my friends was due 2.5 weeks and another just 5 days before my projected due date! We were beyond thrilled. Over Christmas and New Year’s we received many well wishes of “Enjoy, this is your last year without a kid!”
Our first prenatal appointment was Tuesday, Jan 12th, when I was 9 weeks along. We couldn’t wait to see our little miracle on the ultrasound and hear the heartbeat. When the small blob first appeared on the screen, my OB said, “Well, there’s something in there, but it’s smaller than I would expect. It’s measuring 2 weeks smaller than I would like to see at this point.”
Oh, okay, so it’s a little guy, no big deal, I thought. What I later realized she actually meant was that my baby had stopped growing 2 weeks ago. The doctor continued.
“You see that? That little movement right there? That’s the heartbeat—it’s very slow, much slower than it should be.”
I had done enough research to know that the tiny life growing inside me should have a heartrate of about 120 BPM, but the movement I was seeing on the screen was much, much slower. Instantly, my gut hit the floor. The poor little thing was struggling. I could sense it, and all my hopes and excitement were shattered into a million pieces. My amazing doctor, always the realist, never one to give false hope, laid bare the facts for me and my husband. The pregnancy would most likely result in a miscarriage, probably due to chromosomal abnormality, and it would happen within a week, if it were to happen at all. But she also reassured us that there was a “decent” chance the baby would pull through and be 100% normal, you just never know. Though the chances of that were slim. She prepared us for what was most likely to happen, answered some of our questions, went through all of our options and scenarios, and told us to come back in a week to reassess.
My husband and I drove home, me mostly numb, him trying to get a sense of how I was handling the news. I held it together until we walked into our apartment, when the flood of emotion I was feeling came gushing out in broken sobs. I called my parents to tell them the news and ask them to pray. I texted and emailed close friends who knew about my pregnancy to ask them to join is in prayer. We received an inundation of encouragement from those close to us. “Don’t you give up on this baby!!” my little sister cried into the phone when I told her.
The next day, Wednesday, I went into work like it was a normal day, trying not to think about the doctor’s prognosis, trying not to think about the image of my tiny baby’s struggling heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor. I would put my hand on my belly and whisper encouraging things to my little fighter. But I was bleeding, and as the bleeding continued to get worse, so did my fears. By Thursday afternoon, my lower back and pelvis ached, the cramping was becoming more intense--my body was preparing itself for the inevitable. For about 4 hours Thursday night, I endured the most devastating experience of my life. It was gruesome, painful, and terrible. Afterwards, when the pain had subsided, I was left feeling physically, emotionally, and spiritually empty. Where just a few short hours before there was a tiny life growing inside me, now there was nothing, stripped bare. I felt quite literally empty; there was no more “full” feeling in my lower abdomen, where my body had been growing and expanding to make room for my developing baby. It was the strangest feeling, and I was simultaneously devastated over my loss but also in awe of our Creator, who so marvelously designed our bodies, that they are equipped to handle these situations so efficiently (though I know for some women this isn’t the case and the miscarriage process doesn’t happen so naturally and medical intervention is necessary).
Miscarriage is a very personal, raw, emotional subject, and I can understand why some women may want to keep those experiences private, but I think it’s good to talk about it and share our experiences. I am not here to spark some debate over pro-life vs. pro-choice. I simply want to share my story, because in so doing, I feel like I am honoring the life of the child I was carrying, who, for whatever reason, never made it full term, but was a living human, nonetheless. In telling my story, I am celebrating the sanctity of human life, celebrating my unborn baby’s life. And sharing my miscarriage story helps my grieving and healing process, recognizing that I did indeed suffer a terrible loss, but rejoicing in the fact that my Maker is wonderful and powerful, and the giving and taking of life is left in His sovereign hands.
Me: 30 | Him: 33
Married: 7/14/13
TTC #1 May 2015
Dec 2015 BFP, loss at 9w1d
Dec 2015 BFP, loss at 9w1d
Re: Sanctity of Human Life Sunday + My Miscarriage Story
I have had two miscarriages since then, and we haven't been able to get pregnant since the last one.
These experiences have so beaten me that I no longer feel the urge to get pregnant or hope, dream, or wish for babies.
The other day I read a quote, which can be applied to many different aspects of life and interpreted in so many ways: The Anvil outlasts The Hammer.
To me, this means that life is hard and will test you beyond your perceived limits, but true strength of character will allow you to endure.
Be the Anvil, and know that you have the strength to endure this.
@BGleckler I am so sorry for your losses, and I can't imagine how difficult it must be to remain positive, but I love the quote you shared. I agree that we are stronger than we think are and can endure more than we thought possible, so hang in there and don't lose hope!
One thing this whole experience has shown me is the amount of amazing friends and family I am surrounded by who have reached out with love, support, and encouragement, and many of whom have shared their own stories of miscarriage with me and given me hope.
It's been 10 days since I miscarried, and I'm still grieving my loss. Even though I was only 9 weeks and my baby the size of a kidney bean, my body had already gone through so many changes and I already had such a deep connection with the little life growing inside me, that it's still hard to believe there's no baby anymore. One day you're pregnant, the next day you're not. It's a difficult adjustment. But when I went for my follow-up after the MC, my OB assured me that I'm healthy and to start trying again after my first normal cycle. I'm sure once we do start trying again there will be fear and anxiety, but I also know that it's all out of my control anyway, so I'm just trying to take peace and comfort in the fact that I believe God has a plan and someday I'll have the family I desire.
Dec 2015 BFP, loss at 9w1d
Me: 33 & DH: 33
Married: 07/2006
TTC: 10/2015
BFP #1: 11/2015, MC 12/2015 (7 weeks)
BFP #2: 06/2016, EDD 2/15/2017