Brandy's Story: Finding peace in God through the loss of 7 children

Brandy, you are right. How does one possibly respond to the deaths of 7 children. Much of your story resonates with mine. Except my number is 4. Not 7.  Thank you for sharing not only your losses, but also your healing and hope. I pray that it will help someone else.

Love, Rachel

I am a blessed mother of 8 beautiful babies.  7 babies of whom I have never been able to see smile, laugh or hear them speak.  One day, I will.  Most people are speechless when they hear my story.  How does one respond?   

For those of you who are faced with loved ones grieving the loss of miscarriage -- in my honest opinion -- there is no right way to respond -- because in my experience, most mothers don't know how to grieve.  Just do what seems natural to you -- I am sure it will be received in love by the grieving family. 

Our story started all the way back in 2005.  Seems like a lifetime ago.  Newly married, we were excited to tell everyone and anyone about our news.  At the first ultrasound, the tech was silent.  She didn't say anything.  She left quietly to get our doctor.  That is when the doctor broke the news that the baby would not survive.  We were devastated.  We lost child number 1 just weeks later.

About 9 months later, we were pregnant again.  I was so scared.  We didn't tell anyone.  Through the whole pregnancy I just trusted God that it was his choice and I was going to let him decide.  I remember hearing the heartbeat at the first ultrasound, I started crying. Not just a couple of tears, but full-fledged weeping.  Even up to the day they decided to take her early, I still let it rest in God's hands on whether or not we would be blessed with a child.  I fully trusted him.  It wasn't easy -- but necessary.  She was born in June of 2007, a perfectly healthy beautiful baby girl. 

Since then, I have had 6 more miscarriages.  My doctor has tried many things to try to help, but in the end, my babies all left before or close to the end of my first trimester.  My most recent experience has scarred me the most.  It was a week after Christmas in 2013, that we discovered it.  I called my doctor but being that it was their Christmas break, it was difficult waiting for their office to open back up.  Then it was the New Year’s holiday, so more waiting for them to open to get my test results. 

I was so excited; I instantly called one of my close friends who had been praying for me for the past 6 months about this very thing.  She broke down in tears because she and her husband had just found out they were expecting number 4.  Could it be that God was going to bless us both by allowing us to go through this journey together?  We knew it had to be a sign.  We prayed all the time, praying that my body would be strong enough.  I posted my walls with even more Bible verses than normal.  I clung to all of the morning sickness, thankful for it, praying it was helping my body to do what it was supposed to do.  My doctor continued to do blood tests to monitor my progress.   

 Then one morning, the nurse called with the devastating news.  Of course, it wasn't devastating to her because I am sure she makes that call all the time.  But I hit rock bottom, right there.  My hormone levels were decreasing.  My body was once again not strong enough to carry the little one with whom I was blessed. 

Sitting here 2 months later, I wish I could tell you I know why God has allowed this to happen in my life.  I absolutely love children and know that I am a great mom.  However, I know that it is not a reflection of who I am as a person or what I do.  I know that it is not due to God overlooking me because I am sure that He was up there crying more than I at having to take yet another child from my womb.  I have learned not to ask why or why not.

I have learned to step back and look at life a little differently.  It is possible that my gracious most Heavenly Father is protecting me.  I know that it doesn't sound like it after experiencing so much pain, but it is very, very possible. 

I know historically many women die in childbirth.  My body did not carry my daughter very well in 2007.  It fought me every step of the way.  I came down with preeclampsia so they had to take Janelle early and then they struggled with getting my blood pressure to a stable state.  I have never had problems with my blood pressure, but they could not get it to go down and were afraid that I was going to have a stroke.  They were of course very cautious with how much detail they went into as to not raise my stress level higher. 

However, it is very possible, that my loving God gave me Janelle to fill my heart’s desire.  To say, "Brandy, I know this is what you have wanted your entire life."  It is very possible, that on that day, in June of 2007, that He wrapped His loving arms around me and held me tight and kept me here on Earth to experience all that He has for me.  I have come to the realization that there is a good chance my body is not capable of carrying a child -- but I was blessed and protected through carrying one. 

Most people do not understand the pain of losing 7 children or even losing 1.  But our Heavenly Father does.  He gave His only Son for us.  And I know that He is my ultimate comforter.  When I think that no one else understands my pain, I know that He does.  And the greatest thing is that I don't even have to be able to put it into words.  He knows, He sees, and He feels right along with me.  I encourage others to turn to Him for their peace when they go through life's trials.  He is the ultimate peace and through Him, you will find comfort and joy again. 

Misty's Story: Abortion at 14 and remembered 28 years later

Thank you, Misty, for opening up about your story. I can't imagine having to make such a heart-breaking choice at 14. Thinking of you and your sister, and remembering your babies with you.

Much love,

Rachel

My name is Misty. I have experienced loss by choice (which was the right choice for me at age 14). I didn't know the sex of my child so there is no name. There is, however, the memory of a child that I still think about almost 28 years later.

I also suffered with my sister when she delivered stillborn at 27 weeks. My sister's daughter was named Elon Tenea and she is missed dearly after nearly 10 years. 

I now have three living children as well as a grandbaby. My sister has a son who is almost twenty. My sister and I are pro-lifers. I agree that the loss of a child, regardless of the stage, is the most heart wrenching ordeal one can ever go through. 

No one can understand this unless they themselves have been through it. 

Your story is insightful even to someone who has been in both situations like myself. Thank you for sharing and God bless you and your family.

Corin's Story: Do miracles still happen?

Corin wanted to share her story of her miscarriages, and blighted ovum at 10 weeks.

There's a part in her story I could so relate with -- waiting for the God of miracles to act and receive glory. Except it's not the kind of glory she was counting on. I'll let her tell the rest . . .

Rachel

Do Miracles Still Happen?

by Corin Hughs

Originally published at Corin Hughs.

Reprinted with permission.

My ultrasound image was of my uterus, but the empty black hole better reflected my heart.

A “blighted ovum” my doctor diagnosed.

While this is the reason of 50% of all first-trimester miscarriages, it only happens one time in most women. It’s when an egg is fertilized, the fertilized egg attaches to the uterine wall, but an embryo (baby) never forms. Research concludes this is likely the result of chromosomal abnormalities. There’s no specific, conclusive answer for this. There’s nothing you can do to prevent it. It just happens.

My doctor leaned on the counter, arms folded, brow creased. He commented on my three healthy pregnancies, my two other miscarriages and then this. He was perplexed. He instructed the nurse to order blood work.

I sat numb.

Confused.

Uncertain.

I robotically called my husband to tell him there was no baby.

Yes, I am pregnant, 10 weeks, in fact. My hormone levels indicate pregnancy. The embryonic sac indicates pregnancy. I’m just not pregnant with…a baby.

Huh!?!?

I’ve had a natural vaginal delivery, an emergency C-section for a breech baby who turned during labor and a scheduled C-section for a breech baby. I’ve had an early natural miscarriage, two healthy, problem-free pregnancies, an eleven week ultrasound to reveal a baby with no heartbeat (and eventual miscarriage), a healthy pregnancy and, now, an empty embryonic sac.

Motherhood is emotional! From the very start!

While I can’t help but ask God, why, I also have an indescribable, unique peace over this situation. I do not feel an urgency to have closure to this. I feel like this story is very much still happening and I feel thankful that God chose me for this. As I sit in confusion, knowing I have zero control, I feel ok with that. I know God is fully in control. He knows what He’s doing. I am excited to learn how this story will continue. I’m curious why God chose this situation for me. What does He want me to learn from this? I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t to show Himself as the God of Miracles that I know He is. Yes, He is!

My husband took comfort in the story of the Faithful Centurion who believed Jesus could heal his son. Jesus, astonished by this man’s faith, said, because you believed, your son is now healed.
Is God gifting my husband and me with this mind-boggling situation to increase our belief in Him that He can heal our – His – child?

This all took place on Tuesday, January 14, 2014 (and I wrote all of the above on that same day). At the time, I had few answers. In fact, I really had no answers! Just a bunch of confusing, conflicting information.

And, for once in my life, I felt ok with that.

I had assured hope that God would perform a miracle and that miracle would be a growing baby, of course! I’d go back for another ultrasound the following week and we’d see a perfect, healthy, beautiful peanut. The doctors would be astonished at how science had been defied. I would sit back and smile, telling them God has plans for this child.

Scouring the web, I read story after story of women in a similar situations and everything turned out fine. Most often, they were not as far along in their pregnancy as they thought, so a week or two later, an ultrasound revealed a healthy baby. There were a few stories of women who were indeed ten weeks along and went back the following week for an ultrasound that revealed a healthy 11 week baby. Miraculous! Unexplainable! Yes, that’s what would happen to me!

I grew more and more excited at the thought of sharing this miraculous story. I envisioned myself holding the miracle baby in my arms. I could feel her soft skin against mine. Yes, I had also decided she was a girl. My daughter would have a sister. She would be delighted. I would be delighted.
I would gleam with humble, thankful pride over the four children that I’m getting to raise.

I mean, what better way for God to show his great power, His miraculous ways than for this to be “my story?”

I prayed. I prayed for a miracle. I asked others to pray the same. They did.

Three days later, my hormone levels had dropped and our precious baby – who, by scientific terms, never was – became another miscarriage.

What was God doing?


To finish reading Corin's Story, click here.

Lisa's Story: Finding the sacred in a baby's short life

Lisa has written two posts about her miscarriage that she'd like to share with my readers.

I hope you find some comfort from her experience. Lisa, thanks so much for reaching out.

Rachel

A person is a person, no matter how small

I have been thinking lately about the beauty and sacredness of life.  Especially human life, made in the image and likeness of God. I have been contemplating the beginnings of human life. None of us would even be here if God did not love us into existence! We start out the size of a poppy seed and although we are that small, God breathes his life into us. Since he is so big and we are so small and fragile, he has to be ever so gentle. I imagine it would be the way a gentle breeze carries a dandelion without the petals falling off. This human life, once it is started will also go on to live into eternity . . .

 

To continue reading this post, click here.

 

 

Better to have loved and lost...

I really have it on my heart to write about what I have learned through my miscarriage.  Even though about 50 percent of women experience miscarriage, I am finding that it is almost taboo to talk about. The reason might be different for different people. For some it may just be too painful to talk about and others think it is too personal of a topic. Still another reason that I am finding out about is a feeling of shame. Some women actually feel there is something wrong with them that they were not able to carry a healthy baby to term. One woman even recently shared with me that a neighbor told her it was probably for the best because she had enough kids. If it will help others, I am willing to talk about my experience and what I have learned from it . . .

 

To continue reading this post, click here.

 

 

Blogs linked with permission.

Kim's Story: meeting her baby who was miscarried 20 years ago

I miscarried a baby in 1984. I was in my first trimester. I too heard all of the "at least" comforts.

I did have two more children, but never got rid of the little white dress with
purple flowers I had hanging in the closet. I didn't know the gender of my
baby.

I was in prayer one night, twenty-two years later, grieving the loss.
In that moment, I was able to take the little dress out of my closet. As I was
praying, The Lord (in the Spirit) laid my baby in my arms. I wept. I rocked
my baby.

The Lord spoke to my heart and said, "Her name is Anna Elizabeth, and
she has raven hair."

He allowed me to love on her for a while and then I lifted her to Him and
had a peace I hadn't known. It wasn't until many years later that I learned
my great-grandmothers names on one side was “Elizabeth” and on the
other side was “Cinncianna” (Anna).

Wow! I know I will see her one day.

I hope this comforts someone.

Love, Kim

Thanks, Kim, for sharing this beautiful story. And for reminding us that God has not forgotten us or our babies. Much love. Rachel

Pregnant, but we might not be having a baby

I guess I'm going to break all the norms here on this one.

Most people don't say anything till they are 12 weeks. And here I am at 4.

I'm pregnant.

But before you squeal, or get excited, or even think about a congratulations ... You should know that I likely won't keep this one.

My hcg is low. In spite of progesterone, baby aspirin, eating gluten-free and being as healthy as I can be ... I will still likely miscarry.

I met with my nurse from the fertility clinic today. I happened to be in Seattle visiting my sister already, so the timing was perfect. 

My first positive test was on Tuesday, CD 29, 3 days after my period was due. It was a faint line, but positive nonetheless. 

The next day I had a blood draw to confirm the pregnancy. Instead of just confirming the pregnancy, they did a quantitative test to determine my hcg levels. It was 35. 

My last miscarriage with Elliott I was at 152 at this point, and then with Caleb, I was at 16. 

My heart sunk when I heard the news. I guess once I knew the number I gave up a fair amount of hope.

Over the last 3 days, I've had fewer symptoms. My assumption is that my hcg is dropping, but we won't know for sure until I get another hcg test. 

Of course, ectopic is ALWAYS on the table as a concern. So there is that.

My reproductive endocrinologist did not feel that the lab work for clotting was complete, and I have a consultation with a hematologist on Wednesday. I had a blood-clotting test done today, and they are checking to see if adding Lovenox (a blood thinner) to my "pregnancy regimen" is called for.

I'm not really sure how to feel. At times I am numb, sometimes broken, sometimes angry, and on it goes. How I am depends on the minute. 

It's painfully obvious that the plan to "just try again, and we'll hope for the best" is not working out so well.

A few people have asked what we need, and the only thing I can think of is prayer.

Of course, I want a miracle. I wouldn't be me if I didn't want this baby to pull through. So yes, by all means, pray for a miracle!

But I know that God's miracle is not always the one I ask for. I know that even if we miscarry again, or even 10 more times, God is still good and He hasn't abandoned me. 

You can also pray for comfort. For Ryan and I to help each other and not allow more grief/stress come between us. You could also pray that if we lose this one, somehow we will be able to find what's causing the losses. 

I know many of you want to fix me. I've gotten lots of recommendations from many people about what could be wrong. As much as I understand wanting to find what's wrong (trust me, I WANT TO FIGURE THIS OUT!!!), I'm in the hands of some really smart specialists and we are working on it. Emotionally, I just can't follow every trail head right now on the "what-ifs." I also don't feel up for explaining every single test/scenario the doctors and I have gone through over the last two years.

So, what is our plan?

Currently, Ryan and I need to decide if we are going to continue testing our hcg. It's an expensive process at $100 out-of-pocket per blood draw.

We'll continue the progesterone, etc, until we know for certain what is going on with this pregnancy.

I'll emotionally take it one day at a time, or maye one minute at a time. The miscarriage could start tomorrow --- it could start weeks and weeks from now --- it might not start at all.

You can understand, I'm sure, that the not-knowing and all the waiting are very hard to go through.

Since I blog through loss, I wanted to blog through this period of potential loss/potential live-baby. Below is the post that I wrote the day I found out we were pregnant again.

One more thing... If you are a close friend or family, and you found out on FB today about what's going on, I'm sorry. I made several calls today to the share the news, and it's just too hard. I'll just be keeping updates here.

Thanks for all the prayers and support for our family,

Rachel

I'm Pregnant, written March 4

 

I'm pregnant.

I'm pregnant. 

I'm pregnant? 

I'M PREGNANT. 

But am I really pregnant??

Something like this has been playing in my head for the entire day. Terror. Excitement. Questioning. Guarding. Loving. Breathing. Beautiful. Terrifying. 

I'm pregnant. 

Who knew two lines could mean so much, and yet communicate so little.

I don't know for how long I'll carry this baby. Today has felt like a 24-hour eternity. 

Either it will be a long couple of days or weeks before we lose this one. (And, then looking back, I'll say it wasn't nearly long enough) ... Or it will be a long, scary 9-months until mid-November when this one is "due."

I know well enough to not REALLY expect a live baby anywhere even close to a due date. I know most of my due dates are empty, forgotten by most the day I miscarried. 

And yet there's a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe this time is different. 

Then again, maybe it's not. 

If you are of the praying sort, pray pray pray that God's will be done, and that He gives me the strength to walk through whatever lies before me. 

And pray my uterus won't be empty again, but there will be a live baby with a blinking little heart if we make it to ultrasound day. 

Much love, 

Rachel

Guest Post: Good Grief

 

A guest post by Andrea Gaston

In my inbox, I have a folder labeled: *Waiting. Nestled under that is about ten other folders with different sub-titles and purposes. Some of these folders have become obsolete in their purpose and others have become a mainstay of constant use.

This system has given organization to the waiting; however, the organization has not resolved the waiting.

Similarly in the rest of my life, I shuffle things off to the side if they are not an immediate need. I have learned to compartmentalize and desensitize in the hustle and bustle of the busy present.

And this worked well for most of my life. This hastened ignorance of the need for attention to these places kept me afloat in the raging sea of anxiety and doubt and fear and depression crying out to God again and again for peace.

From where I sit now, I find that often times when I pray for peace what I want is relief; and these are not necessarily the same.

I was trying to run a marathon in constant crisis mode relying on the next quick fix of “peace” all the while hoping the mess underneath would work itself out.

But God, in his graciousness, let me crash again and again. He let me run myself ragged. He let me build my own fortress of safety – using tools like running, friends, even quiet times to build myself up and keep myself going. And then, he let my fortress crumble.

It was a Tuesday night nearing the end of September when all hell broke loose into my life. That was the night my plans, my expectations, my hopes, collided with an unexpected reality and I collapsed against an unyielding dam of fear.

The result was a blur of shock where sounds were muffled and words did not make sense. It was a time when sleep was a reprieve that did not come, when nothing seemed real or significant and numbness overwhelmed all sense.

In the senselessness, there was no understanding.

There were times when I could not curl into a ball tight enough to feel as though I could be held together. There were times when the water from the shower could not compete with the tears released behind the cover of the curtain.

There were times when I tried to dress up the pain in words of explanation so I could build a façade of strength to hide behind.

There were times when I yelled curse words strung together like a rusty melody – not even directed at anyone or anything, rather to release the anxious frustration of the waiting without knowing why – to release the anger I did not know I was capable of feeling.
 
I did not realize I was able to love another person so completely before I did. I did not know the depths of my own heart until it was opened and filled in that capacity.

Similarly, when the life that was planned for and was expected is no longer there – when the other part that once made me feel whole is missing – there remains a void as never known before. In that chasm a cold isolation seeps in too fast and too deep to resist.

I write in the past tense as if all of this no longer occurs; but it does. In waves and echoes, in the stillness of a moment, or, more often, in the unexpected flash of a reminder of what was or the hope of what was to come.

And there –  right there –  in that moment I have the choice.

I have the opportunity and freedom to choose. It does not feel like an opportunity and it does not feel like a freedom and it certainly does not feel like a choice.

But that’s what it is all the same.

I can choose to shrink into that darkness, believing all of the lies strung together making me feel covered in the coldest isolation and walk out existing in the worst kind of living hell.

Or I can choose to believe all that I know is true- anything I know that is truth.

Even the simplest of truths.

Somehow, when I feel as though I am at the edge of it all and the bottom of myself, when I feel hollow and empty as all of the richness of life fades and I am whittled down to my core, it is there I remember the songs and rhythmic prayers from childhood: God is good. God is great . . .Yes, Jesus loves me . . . Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep . . .

All of them stitched together to form the most basic and desperate prayer.
 
I think this is what it looks like to choose to treat the places of grief as sacred and pain as holy – to call God good even in the midst of the mess.

In the places of grief God is (finally) able to get to those places I have kept hidden, walled up behind years of self-protection and distraction. In the rubble of fallen expectations I can see my motivation more clearly – I can see God clearly.

The goodness in the grief is that I met God there.

In the place of grief, God lets me see my need for him. And he lets me ask the hard questions of him.

That is one of my favorite things about God – he invites me to inspect him. Whereas he does not always answer my questions, he still lets me ask.

What I am learning is to stop asking for what I want, but start asking God who he is.

And that can be a messy question.

Thankfully, he promises not to leave me or forsake me as I pursue him through that question and as he pursues me through the mess.

Find Andrea at her regular blog, http://agaston1684.wordpress.com/.

 

Kristi's Story -- A lonely journey through ectopic pregnancy

I'm honored to share Kristi's story of a loss due to ectopic pregnancy.

Her story highlights several factors that are unique to an ectopic pregnancy or other early pregnancy loss:

• A husband often feels so different than the mom about the loss because he hasn't had a chance to bond with the baby.
• His reactions are often NOT helpful to the mom, which can make the loneliness in an early loss that much more painful. (Though I admit that his actions legitimately might be helpful to him.)
• Ectopics are hard for doctors to diagnose. This is why it's so important that we moms are in tune to our bodies and demand the care we (and our babies) deserve. When something is wrong, we have to trust our instincts.
• Medical personnel often don't treat ectopic pregnancies as the loss of a baby. The lack of compassion gives off the the feeling that we are just being "drama" and that "people miscarry every day, so what's the big deal?" The lack of validation for our loss -- and, therefore, the invalidation for our grief -- creates a very tricky journey of grief to navigate.

Her story also highlights what I'm sure all of us in the pregnancy-loss camp would agree with:

• Your loss changes you in a deep and profound way. And no matter how much you want to go back in time and have things the way they always were . . . you simply can't. And that is really hard to deal with.
• Your loss opens you up to a new world . . . a world of grief. A world where babies die. And a world that will probably never feel safe to you again.

On Christmas Eve, I was finishing up work and noticed that my eyes kept getting blurry and I felt dizzy.

Earlier in the week, I had started to wonder if I could possibly be pregnant because I wasn't feeling the usual signs of menstruation about to start, and I was tired more and having some nausea. So after the blurry vision and dizziness started that night, I decided to take another pregnancy test. (I had taken one a few days earlier which was negative, but thought it might have been too early to test.)
When I saw a faint second line on the test, I was overcome with joy . . . as well as full of anxiety about how my husband would feel. I decided not to say anything to him until I saw the doctor on Monday and knew for sure. 

On Sunday, Christmas Day, the spotting began.


It seemed to take forever waiting for Monday morning to come so I could call the doctor's office.  When Monday morning came, my husband planned a last-minute trip out of town to drop off some car parts at a machine shop and maybe to stop on our way out to see one of his daughters who is pregnant. While he was loading up the van, I called the doctor's office and found out that they were closed that day.

On the way to my step-daughter's house, I suddenly had to throw up, and hung my head out of the window to do so. When we got to the house, my daughter immediately told her half-sister about mommy throwing up, and she in turn immediately asked me, "What are you, pregnant?" I just kind of brushed it off, but told her later when we were alone that I thought I might be. 

Later that day, I admitted to my husband that I could be pregnant, and as I feared, he wasn't happy about it. He was constantly being negative about it, saying that he was too old to have another baby (he was 42 and I was 34) and that he had nothing to show for his life.

When we got home, we noticed our pet guinea pig was acting funny and wouldn't eat. I called and made an emergency visit to the vet and found out that she had an obstruction probably from chewing on the string to my pajamas a few days earlier, and she might not make it.

The next morning, the vet called to tell us that the guinea pig didn't make it. Then I went to the doctor and anxiously waited in the room for the doctor to come in and tell me for sure if I was pregnant. With my husband acting the way he was, I didn't know how to feel.

When the doctor came in, I could tell she looked nervous. She told me that the urine test came back negative but would call me with the results of the blood test. I immediately started crying and told her that I wasn't sure if I wanted to be pregnant because of the way my husband was treating me. I had wanted a baby for so long and just wished he could be as happy as I was.

I left the doctor's office and went to the vet's office to pick up our dead guinea pig. The nurse called me later with the blood test result and told me that I was pregnant. According to the hCG number, I was about 5 weeks along. Because of the spotting and cramping, I had to keep having my hCG checked.

The following weekend, my husband actually came with me and my daughter to my parents' house  to celebrate Christmas (which is something he never does.) We had a good weekend . . . we bought a couple of new guinea pigs, and he seemed to be taking the pregnancy news better, even though he never talked about the baby. The spotting had stopped for most of the weekend, until it started back up on New Year's Day.

That next Wednesday, my husband was being a total jerk . . . ranting and raving about everything except what was really bothering him (which I knew was the baby), and then storming out to his shop without even saying goodbye. My cramping had gotten much worse that morning, and I finally decided that afternoon to drive myself to the ER. 

I dropped off my daughter at the shop with him and told him where I was going. I spent several hours alone in the ER waiting to have a transvaginal and abdominal ultrasound. The doctor told me that my hCG levels had been very low for as far along as I was. (The doctor's office had always told me they were rising, but I guess they were never doubling like they should.)

The woman who did the ultrasounds is an old friend of mine, and I could tell from her face that something was wrong. The doctor told me I could just not be as far along as everyone thought (which I knew exactly when I conceived), or it could be either an ectopic pregnancy or an impending miscarriage. With no solid answer, they sent me home.

That Friday, the doctor's office called and told me that my hCG dropped a little and that the doctor wanted to try another ultrasound that Monday. The weekend seemed to drag on forever waiting for Monday to come. When I had the ultrasound, once again I was told that they couldn't see anything on the sonogram, but that my cervix was still closed. The official report came back saying that there was no evidence of an ectopic, and that the radiologist believed it was consistent with an early pregnancy. 

But the next morning, while I was working, I could feel the bleeding start. I ran into the bathroom and saw that the bleeding had gotten heavier. I told my husband I believed I could be miscarrying.  He had a physical therapy appointment he was getting ready to go to for his shoulder surgery, and I told him to go ahead and go. As the bleeding continued to get heavier, I called the doctor's office and they told me to come in and get checked. 

I was devastated to hear that my cervix was now open. It was hard to listen to a baby crying in the room next to me as I waited for my hCG number to come back. My number had risen a little and was told it could be an impending miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy, or that my pregnancy still could be viable. Again, I was told I should just go home and rest. 

When I got home, I decided to take a bath to help relax. When I got out, I started to freak out when I saw that there was blood running down my leg and that the tub was filled with blood and several clots, including one the size of my hand. I yelled for my husband to come in, and he helped me get dressed and had me lie down. 

I called the ER since the doctor's office was closed and told them what happened and what the doctor had told me. Once they heard which doctor's office I went to (the hospital and a doctor at the clinic are in the middle of a lawsuit and he is banned from the hospital), they told me that I was having a miscarriage and there was nothing they could do for me. They told me to come in if I was bleeding through more than two pads in a half an hour. 

The bleeding stopped a few hours later, but the following night, I was cramping a lot worse. I had taken a Percocet and it wasn't doing anything to help with the pain. I called the ER again and told them that my doctor told me it could be ectopic, and again (once they heard what clinic I went to), they told me that if the doctor really believed I could have an ectopic, they would have done something by now. They inisisted I should just take another Percocet.

The next day, I had another hCG drawn. I was sure that it would be 0, and that I had miscarried. Instead, I was shocked to hear that my number had gone up again. 

The next week, my hCG levels kept rising slowly, but still nothing showed on the ultrasound. My doctor referred me to a gynecologist out of town who wanted to see me the next day. He told me that there was no way that this was a viable pregnancy and that he believed it was in my right tube. He said that on the ultrasound, there was more fluid developing around that tube. The ultrasound also showed fluid behind my cervix and around both ovaries and tubes. 

I told him about all the bleeding the week before, and he was shocked about that, too. Nobody could explain what was going on. My case was not the typical ectopic. 

The doctor suggested that I have the methotrexate injection. [This is a drug that will dissolve the baby and placenta, which would help prevent further damage to the tube.]

I had to wait for the pharmacy to get it ready, so we left to go shopping and kill time for a couple of hours before wereturned. By this time, the wating room was full of pregnant women and women with new babies. I couldn't stop crying as I waited for them to call my name. 

When the nurses brought me back to the room, and I saw the sonogram machine and the chart on the wall showing the various stages of pregnancy, I bawled harder than I ever have in my life. After the nurses gave me the two injections in my hips, they let me out the back way, so I wouldn't have to see all the pregnant women again. 

I cried the whole way home. I had told my husband that it made it even harder knowing this was my last chance to have a baby. At first, he seemed to be more open to trying again, but he hasn't even touched me in so long, like he's afraid I'll get pregnant again.

 I feel so alone. Not a single day goes by that I don't think about the baby. It's my first thought upon waking and my last thought before going to sleep each night. 

Tomorrow I go back to see the doctor who gave me the methotrexate injection to have an HSG test. [This is a test where they inject die into your tubes to see how if there is any blockage.] I am anxious to find out how much damage to my tubes there has been. 

I have had two laparoscopic surgeries in the past, with lots of scar tissue, adhesions and cysts having to be removed. I developed pelvic inflamatory disease after the second surgery, so I am worried what the doctor will find. I don't know if my husband will be coming with me or not. I might be going through this alone as well. 

I just wish I could back in time before any of this ever happened. It's so hard even getting on Facebook now, especially when I see pregnancy updates from two of my step-daughters, some friends, and my husband's cousin. It seeems like every day, somebody else is announcing their pregnancy. I even had to suspend my account for awhile because it just got to be too much to bear.

I don't like this woman who I have become . . . this woman who is angry and hurting all the time . . . this woman who knows that everything that you have ever wanted can be taken from you just like that, and there's nothing you can do about it.


A word to other mommas . . .

I would tell other women going through this that they should not be afraid to let their feelings out . . . that it's okay to be angry, it's okay to be sad. I felt so bad at first that I was angry at God until I talked to my pastor, and he made me realize that it's okay and natural to be angry with God, and that "God's got big shoulders and can take it."

I also have realized that I feel a lot of guilt and anger at myself. I've realized that I sometimes blame myself for being anxious about being pregnant, that maybe somehow my fears caused it. I also have been so angry at my husband for his reaction to my pregnancy and have blamed him, but I know deep down it's not anybody else's fault that this happened, that no one caused it. 

Also, it's very important and helpful to reach out to others who have been there for help to get you through it. I feel so alone with my friends and family, because none of them have any ideas what I am going through, so the support pages on Facebook have been a godsend for me.


Thank you, Kristi, for sharing your story of your baby, and the experience of your loss. I know the loneliness of losing a baby to ectopic -- but know that you are never truly alone in this loss. Thank you for being brave in sharing your story.

I feel like every pregnancy loss story is so important and deserves to be told. If you would like to share your story, please email me at renyeart@gmail.com. We can post your story anonymously if you would prefer. 

My goal in sharing stories on this blog is:

1) To honor our beloved babies and keep their memory alive.
2) To validate and honor the grief of the moms who have lost their little one.
3) To be a resource to women who are hoping to find someone, somewhere out there, who can relate to their feelings of loss. I hope this blog will be that resource.

A big lesson from a little potty

Sometimes God chooses weird times to talk to us.

Mine happened to be while Mommy and Maddy were having Mommy/Maddy pee time. (Now that she's potty training, that's what we call it!)

I was struck by how often I complain these days -- at least mentally. Complain that I'm not pregnant with Olivia. That babies die. That I'll never know my daughter this side of heaven.

Really, I could go on forever about these complaints, but you get the gist.

As I was thinking about my complaints, I realized that I was missing out on everything God WAS doing in my life.  Maybe I have been physically there for it -- but I certainly haven't been recognizing it, or even praising Him for it.

I focus on being terrified of when God will take Maddy . . . instead of thanking Him for her life and health for this day.

I stress about when I will get pregnant next and how that will go . . . instead of trusting that He will be in control, and that His will is always best.

As I grieve the loss of a relationship with my little girl . . . I've failed to recognize the many beautiful, and, I hope, lasting friendships I've created since starting this journey.

In everything around me, I've been focusing on what I don't have or what I'm afraid to lose . . . instead of seeing God's providential hand still working on my behalf, even when I'm angry and bitter at Him.

As I was thinking about this, I thought about how much I do for Maddy, and she has no idea. She complains to me when she doesn't get ice cream or when she doesn't get an extra bed-time book . . . but she doesn't realize how much I do for her, and how much time I give her every day to make sure she's as healthy and as happy as a 3-year-old should be.

I guess God does that with me, too. Works on my behalf, while I don't recognize the half of it, and only tell him the things I'm mad at Him for doing.

I struggled with this idea earlier this week in small group. We talked about giving thanks in all circumstances, and I just didn't know how I could do that. The examples the author of our study gave were too petty, I felt. What about when your child dies?? How do you thank God in THAT circumstance?

But still . . . the idea of giving thanks in ALL things in scripture.

". . . give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. "

1Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV)

I have a feeling this idea of giving thanks in a loss is going to be a lesson I'm going to have to learn over, and over, and over again. Because, for those of you who don't know, I've been really struggling with anger toward God. And it's really easy for me to focus ONLY on what I've lost.

Seeing glimpses of God's hand does not negate my need to "focus" on my loss through grief. And I think this day is more of a respite, but that the anger, hurt and feelings of betrayal will all come again. But I think having His gentle reminder today really helped me trust, even just a little, more in Him.

And that little bit of trust is giving me some peace and comfort tonight. And for this moment, I am very grateful for the things and people He has given me. And I'm grateful for a God who doesn't give up on us, even when we give up on Him.

Sweet gifts!

I have received a few very special, very thoughtful gifts in honor of our Baby Olivia.

Here are some of my favorites:

We received this kit containing an oak tree seedling to plant in honor of Baby Olivia, from my sister Sarah.

We've been faithfully taking care of it -- but we haven't seen any signs of growth until this week. More than two months of watering, and finally, new life sprouts!

This new sapling reminds me of my grief a bit -- weeks and weeks of feeling like there's not "progress" and feeling like you'll be stuck in a rut forever . . . only to have a little bit of hope burst forth unexpectedly.

Today I received this lovely necklace from a friend. It is PERFECT. I have wanted a necklace to remember Olivia by, but never found the right one. I love how tiny the footprint is because I imagine that's how tiny her feet might have been. I love that it's just a little bit longer than I normally wear my necklaces, so it falls close to my heart.

                                                         

My friend Meredith sent me this book, and it came right when I was starting to get angry at God for losing our baby. It was perfect timing. I loved reading about how Jesus also heard God tell him "no." How he, too, knew the unspeakable grief and sorrow in separation and death. How he has also felt the loneliness in grief. This book helped open my eyes to a new side of Jesus and his Father that I hadn't really seen before. And it helped me trust my Savior, and love him, even more.



Last, another favorite gift of mine was the gift of time and hard work that my sister Judy gave me. (Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of this!)

A week after our surgery, she and her family "moved in" for a few days to take care of housework, laundry, cooking and planning Maddy's birthday party. Although I felt guilty watching her slave away at my house, it was so nice to have a clean home to recuperate in! Also, Maddy's birthday might have been a complete flop if it hadn't of been for her.

Thank you all, for the sweet, thoughtful gifts over the last 2 months!


 Here are links in case you are wanting to purchase these gifts for yourself or a friend:


Tree:  http://ww10.1800flowers.com/product.do?baseCode=4867&cm_cid=SEARCH#readmore

 Necklace:  http://www.etsy.com/listing/86335916/baby-foot-necklace-sterling-silver

Book: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_14?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=hearing+jesus+speak+into+your+sorrow+by+nancy+guthrie&sprefix=hearing+Jesus+%2Caps%2C196

Gratitude

Dear God,

Today, I caught myself feeling anxious, stressed . . . and well, grumpy.

I don't believe that's how you want me to feel or act. Especially when those feelings are over insignificant things like feeling frustrated with potty training, Madelyn being uncooperative, etc.

I need a change in perspective. A new attitude. A new heart.

Lord, I ask that you please change my heart, and forgive me for giving in to fears and anxiety, when that is not your plan for me. Please give me a gracious, calm and caring spirit -- especially in relation to Madelyn.

Today, instead of being grumpy -- I want to be grateful.

Thank you for . . .

• The health and wellbeing of my family.
• The knowledge that you are in control of all things, and that I can trust you.
• A naping girl.
• The fact that I even have difficult days with Madelyn. Having difficult days means that I actually have days with her -- and that in itself is the greatest blessing, even when it's hard.
• The delicious coffee I'm drinking right now.
• A business to run, and the people on my team. Thank you for their lives and the work they put into Arbonne. Thank you for the encouragement they give me. Thank you for what you will accomplish in and through each of them.
• A loving, understanding husband.
• Your provision.
• Our minivan.
• Your Spirit that leads us, heals us, reminds us when we are not following your plan, and guides us back to you.
• Friends that have been so supportive during this time.
• Church and small group.
• Your promises in your word.
• Hope.
• Freedom from fear.
• Victory in you.
• Life.

Father, as I continue through my day, please remind me of your word. Help me to trust deeply in you, have a firm foundation, and live out the rest of my day in glory to you. May you be pleased with the work of my hands -- but more important, with the attitude of my heart.

Love always,

Your daughter