Dealing with Miscarriage

It s a club no one talks about and no one wants to join. Once inducted, the members are surprisingly all around you. Women hear of your pain and open up to share their stories. I had friends that I had associated with for years and until my own miscarriage, I had no idea the ordeals they had been through. It makes sense, it isn’t something women want to relive so it’s best left unsaid after a while. We share our stories only with the hope of helping someone else.

There was a woman who watched my oldest son when he was two. Carrie had a daughter of her own and somehow managed a home day care on top of a busy schedule. I was thrilled to tell her that we were expecting our second, due in July. The month of July wasn’t the most sought-after due date. Living in Arizona, most women hoped for a spring delivery to escape the worst part of the heat when your fingers were swelling and you could no longer see your feet.

Unfortunately, eight weeks later, I gave Carrie the bad news. We had lost the baby. No warning signs. The heart just stopped beating. I was devastated and to make matters worse, would need a procedure to remove the baby. Carrie said she would be praying for us and she would be happy to watch Ben, my oldest, while I was at the hospital.

I do not remember the day of the procedure. My only memory is of the relief that swept over me as the sedative started to work. For the first time in days, I didn’t care and I could feel sleep approaching quickly. Something I hadn’t had much of in the last week. It would be the only relief from the depression that was setting in for months to come.

The next week was painfully slow and I was anxious about Ben going back to Carrie’s. I was having a hard time letting him out of my sight but I also needed a break. I had some errands to run and it would be nice to have some fresh air. I was packing his diaper bag when I noticed a card. I didn’t immediately recognize the writing and was confused as I began to read. It was a note from Carrie. She was sharing her story. I can only imagine how painful it must have been to put her thoughts into words as she told me of losing her first child. She was eight months pregnant and there was no explanation for the loss of her first and only son. Simply gone, just like that.

I had always wondered why her little girl had a nursery of denim and teddy bears but then it hit me. It was a nursery she couldn’t bear to redo. The only thing left of the dreams that died with that little boy. Carrie also shared a bible verse that had helped her through her tragedy. From Matthew, chapter six, verses 19-21 “…but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
These words had such a healing effect on my heart. It took months and countless meditations on these verses, but I got to a point where I could wake up and it wasn’t my first thought and it didn’t consume me. Yes, I wrestled with the guilt of moving on, of not having that pain. You see, with an unborn child there is no grave site, no public witness. The mother stands alone in a vigil to what could have been with this child. The father tries to understand and I know they hurt but no one feels it like a mother.

I realize that my situation, as bad as it felt at times, couldn’t compare to the Carries out there that had lost a child so late in the pregnancy. It didn’t seem as devastating as the woman who had lost child after child and still didn’t have one. I did have Ben and yes I know that made it easier. I would also be blessed with another healthy boy two years later.

We were so in love with our two boys that we felt it was time to try again. With our first miscarriage so far back in our memories we were ready to try again. Three kids. That sounded crazy but we knew in our hearts we wanted it.

We decided to let God decide if it was right for us. Our prayer was that if it was His will we have another child, we would be pregnant by the end of the year. After Christmas we would stop trying. We went through months of no pregnancy and had found peace that it wasn’t meant to be when on a trip to Atlanta for Thanksgiving I decided to take a pregnancy test. I was pregnant. More pregnant than I thought when I got home and met with my doctor. This baby was due at the end of July.

This pregnancy was going well. I was just over 12 weeks and had no nausea, no exhaustion. I wasn’t used to it going this way. I had already seen the heartbeat because I was considered a high risk pregnancy after losing our second pregnancy. Some clients of my husband had invited us to attend a Christmas party in Seattle and just before we were to leave I had some spotting. I made an appointment with the doctor. I saw the heartbeat for a second time and everything looked good. She advised that I could go on the trip but to just take it easy. It was nothing to be too alarmed about.

The weather in Seattle was amazing. It was clear and beautiful and a group of us decided to visit the original Starbucks. Decaf for me! It was a great day but I was a little tired so we sat a lot and just watched the kids. My husband mentioned I was looking pale but we were with a large group and since I felt fine, we pressed on to see the Space Needle. Just as we were walking along I had the strangest sensation. I felt as though my stomach fell. The feeling you get when you take a hill in your car too fast. I felt a cold numbness come over me and a sensation of dread I can’t explain.

I told my husband I needed a restroom. Immediately. We made our way to a retail store and searched for the bathroom. I was getting frantic. I couldn’t focus and I couldn’t find a restroom. Finally, in the back of the store, behind a locked door, I was shocked. I had lost my baby. My world was spinning. I didn’t know what to do. Hysteria was creeping up on me and I knew I had to get back out to my husband or he was going to knock the bathroom door down. He knew something was wrong and was scared for me.

I gathered myself and went to him in a small, ugly employee hallway. I almost collapsed. I felt guilty. Had I caused this? Had I pushed myself too much? I moved through the rest of the afternoon in another world. I couldn’t get my mind around what had just happened. My husband kept telling me it was probably nothing, the baby was fine. I knew the baby was gone.

We got back home on Monday and I made another appointment. An ultrasound revealed that in fact, there was no longer a baby. The good news, no surgery. We just weren’t pregnant anymore.

How can that be? We prayed. We did everything we were supposed to. We lifted it up to God. Why would he let it end this way? I finally agreed to counseling because I just couldn’t get through the days following the miscarriage. It felt so final because we had prayed that we would only try until December. The pain of the first miscarriage had been eased by our second son. What now?

I can only say that my counselor suggested I read the story of Jacob. After wrestling all night with an angel he was marked. The angel touched his hip and he was maimed. That would be me. I would forever be marked. My scar, not so evident from the outside. There is no limp. There is simply a void in my life that no one would know about unless I chose to share. I usually only share when I have heard of another woman going through a miscarriage. It seems appropriate to help them see that they are not alone. I pray that it helps at least one person because otherwise what would be the purpose of what I have been through?

I do recall during both of these trying times it seemed that the resources to deal with miscarriage were very few. In the midst of my pain I couldn’t understand why. Now I realize a part of this is that once you move past the pain, you don’t want to revisit it often. It is much easier to deal with from a distance.

James tells us to “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything,” verses 2-4.

Do I feel mature and complete? I feel old and raw at times but I have developed a sense of confidence from trusting in God. Knowing that I gave it over to God and relied on him to provide the healing that I needed after the child was gone, strengthened my faith in ways that can’t be measured. Would I go through it again? I don’t know if I can answer that. I love where I am in my walk and I realize that desperation will strengthen your relationship with Christ but it doesn’t make me miss my child any less.

Just like Carrie said in her note, “I am sure, just like me, that you look forward to meeting your little treasure in heaven one day.”