The Gaping Wound of Miscarriage

Nobody talks about it, but it needs to be talked about

I won’t ever get over it. I loved my babies too much. Once I saw those two pink lines on the test telling me I was pregnant, they were locked in my soul forever.

The Dream

I looked at their due date on the calendar and imagined what it would be like welcoming that baby in the season they were due. I thought, what if it’s a girl, and imagined all the clothes I could make them. I began to run through names. I thought of the ages of my other children when this baby was born. The baby already there was a part of me.

I felt blessed to get pregnant five times without trying and having five full-term babies. I knew to count my blessings; I thought that wouldn’t change if I wanted to add more.

My husband and I, loving our big family, wanted to add one more. Our house was too small for six children, so we sold that house and bought a bigger house. We moved in, and everything was just right to welcome baby #6.

I had not gone to the doctor because it was early and I didn’t see the need. I wanted the time to go fast so I could welcome another baby into our family sooner.

It was when I was nine weeks along I went to the bathroom and saw that I was bleeding. I thought that was unusual as it had never happened before. I was concerned so I called the doctor and we went in.

They put the ultrasound probe to my stomach, and there was my baby, small and unformed, lying still. There was no heartbeat. The heart had stopped beating at six weeks, and I didn’t know all along. I felt tricked; this can’t be real. Baby, I needed you!!

That night I miscarried my baby at home. I was in shock. For some reason, it never dawned on me that when you miscarry you, you still can have labor pains and deliver an unformed baby.

It was cruel, and I grieved in the pit of my soul. I named my baby, Eloise, and bought flowers for my front porch for her. I talked to a lot of people about my pain, and they assured me they had lost babies too, and it was common. They said they tried again and had the perfect baby the next time.

Utter Cruelty

I knew I would only heal once I had another baby. I wanted to get pregnant right away, and I did. I was so excited and was very careful. This time around seven weeks, I started bleeding again. Gutted, I and we went to the ER, and to our amazement, the baby was alive. I had a hemorrhage that caused the bleed, but they said it was okay.

Our baby was alive; I was so happy. I continued to bleed and read up a lot on ways to stop the bleeding. I stayed off of my feet to help heal. Each time I went to the doctor, the baby grew bigger. I was so excited, but nervous because I was still bleeding.

We took a trip to Disney, and I mostly stayed at the hotel to try to rest and protect my baby. I got a doppler to try and listen to the heartbeat. We returned home, and I was 12 weeks along. I was almost to the second trimester. At my next checkup, the doctor told me everything was okay, but it wasn’t.

They put the doppler on my womb, and there was my perfectly formed baby, lying still once again. I saw their little arms and legs, but they were not moving. They were no more, and I was gutted once again. I couldn’t bare the thought of delivering a fully formed baby, so I opted for a D&C.

I didn’t want to be there; I wanted my baby to be okay. They put me under, and I woke up broken. I went home to recover and stayed in bed for two days.

When we went out to church, I was feeling terrible physically. I sat outside in the sun to warm but had chills all through my body. I knew something was off.

I went to the doctor, and they diagnosed me with pneumonia. It was like being beaten while I was down. My body had not reacted well to the surgery, and I had swollen up everywhere. I put myself in therapy, and that became my only source of life. The place I could dump all of the feelings that I carried with me each week while I continue to care for my five children living earthside.

The darkness set in

Reading through the statistics, I was slightly encouraged to see that several people had had two losses and in a row. It was around 2%, but I knew it wasn’t entirely uncommon. Determined through my heartbreak, I wanted to try again to have this baby. I got pregnant for the third time; I clung to every pregnancy symptom. I went to check the baby’s heartbeat, and it was erratic. It would beat fast and slow. The tech reassured me that it was okay, but I knew it was not normal. One week later, my baby’s heart stopped — three losses in a row.

Into the Pit

Broken, I felt like a failure. People I was pregnant with all around me went on to have their babies while I sat there empty, broken. I heard people say you should be happy; you already have five children.

I was, but that did not negate the pain of burying three.

I was in a dark, hollow place. Nothing could have cheered me up. I bought a book called Coming to Term and clung to the advice in the book. I was pregnant again, but I was not happy.

I could not allow myself to be happy. I had pain too deep. I kept it a secret from everyone besides my husband. I didn’t even want to pray for my baby because though I was leading a women’s Bible Study at the time; I didn’t trust God with my baby. He, I felt at the time, had taken my other three babies and it felt like I was the only one to keep it safe this time.

He, I felt at the time, had taken my other three babies and it felt like I was the only one to keep it safe this time

The sun began to shine

We moved into an RV and traveled a bit. We moved out of the big home that we bought for our 6th baby and went to a temporary job with my husband for six months. Not wanting to set up a home for that short time, so we bought an RV and stayed in it.

It was a happy time as my baby grew bigger and stronger. I began to feel a glimmer of hope that this dream could turn into a reality. Each week my baby grew, and by the end of the year, he was ready to be born. I went into labor, but he got stuck during birth.

Little one, I just need you safely in my arms.

Finally, after a long labor, he was here, my little one, and he was perfect. He was whole, and my heart was satisfied. The hole was not gone but for the time being, I could wrap myself in the warmth of this little life that was stolen three times before.

After my redemption baby, I had one more. Life doesn't always give you what you think you need, but there is always a means to heal or at least work through a place of healing.

We are all doing that all of the time…working through to a place of healing