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I’m Sorry for Your Loss: My Story of Miscarriage

MyStory-1

by Megan I

 

I’m supposed to be pregnant.

That’s the line that often runs through my head these days, especially as my due date nears. It’s a haunting, sinking thought. I’m not sure what to do with it.

I’m not sure I should really tell anyone. What can they do about it? What can I do about it? Go to Spoonlickers again? Tell my husband again? It’s a hard place to be. No one really gets it unless they’ve been there.

But who has been there? Who has had a miscarriage?

No one really knows that either, since no one really talks about it. I’m hoping to break a little of that silence today.

For years and years and years I wanted another baby. There was a tug in my heart, an ache in my belly, that told me we weren’t “done.” I’d tell my friends all the time that “there was another one in there.” I just knew it. I’d joke that the baby must be a future President or something. It had big plans for our world, and it was ready to come OUT.

The thing is, we already have four kids. A fifth seemed crazy. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was one more in there. It was a true battle of head versus heart. So one brave day last summer, after many, many talks, my husband and I gave it a try. Boom. Pregnant. I was terrified and excited. It was a huge leap of faith.

Things progressed nicely at first. I had my first OB appointment, where we saw the first glimpse of our baby and heard the little heartbeat. Incredible. Instinct told me she was a girl, and I was in love. We left that appointment happy and full of plans. We later went to a big family wedding, and it was fun for my husband and I to share secret glances when I turned down a drink, passed on the Caesar salad, or when family members asked about more kids. Little did they know that #5 was already on the way. I tried to savor every moment of this pregnancy.

Then one Saturday morning I began spotting. There was something else that could have caused it, so I tried not to worry. By Sunday I was cramping, too, and feared the worst.

I couldn’t get in touch with my doctor. I needed his calm voice, telling me it was okay, or even that it wasn’t. Just something. Answers. Many, many phone calls later to other medical professionals, the decision was made for me to sit tight, think positive, and call my doctor’s office first thing in the morning. That was an awful, awful weekend.

On Monday afternoon I saw my doctor. He confirmed what I pretty much already knew:  I was miscarrying.

I will never, ever forget staring at that ultrasound screen, seeing my baby for the last time. I cried and cried and cried. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. I would never see her again. I would never hold her. I wondered how long my doctor would let me lay there. How do you say goodbye? Eventually he held out his hand to help me up. I gripped it and just cried harder. And then he gently turned off the machine, and we went to another room to make plans.

I would have a D&C first thing in the morning. There was a bunch of talk about where to be and when, what prescriptions to fill, what to do in the meantime, etc. Thank goodness I had a wonderful friend with me to remember it all and guide me through it later. Because at the time I couldn’t hear any of it.

I was consumed with one big question: what was going to happen to the baby? I asked, and was told in nutshell that due to my early stage of pregnancy, the hospital would handle disposition. I nodded as I listened. It sounded so reasonable. On paper, yes, that would make sense. But hadn’t I just seen the baby? Hadn’t I felt her all along? Didn’t I have a video of her sweet heartbeat? It just didn’t sit right with me, but I was so exhausted that I didn’t have it in me to ask more questions. I just wanted to go home.

The next morning, I arrived at Spectrum bright and early. My husband dropped me off at the front doors while he parked the car. I sat in a wheelchair, looking out at the dark sky, quietly crying. Here I was, back at the hospital, pregnant with another baby. Just like I knew I would be. But this time I wouldn’t be leaving with her. All I could do was hold my belly and cry. I kept my hand there the whole time. I wanted her to know I loved her, and I wanted to be as close to her as I could.

Right before the D&C began, I asked again about the baby. What was going to happen to her? I was told the same answer. I nodded, and was out.

Later that day, at home, I felt pretty good. I don’t know if it was the drugs, exhaustion, or relief that it was over. My sister had come for the day, and we sat in the sun, napping. I really love that memory.

When I woke up, I began thinking about the baby again. I couldn’t stand the idea that she was sitting around somewhere at Spectrum. Call me crazy, but that’s what I felt. I was desperate for more information, for options. I called the hospital switchboard, and after a few transfers, found out about Bereavement Services.

Bereavement Services was the answer to my silent prayers. They were kind, understanding, supportive, and had answers for my questions. The social worker I met with was the first person who said to me, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Plenty of people had said, “I’m sorry,” but it was the word “loss” that stopped me in my tracks.

Loss. That’s what I was feeling. It was a very validating sentence.

I made plans for the baby, and with that I rested a little better. I honored her life, and it gave me the closure I needed. I think I spent about five days huddled up in bed with a “belly ache,” and after that, life kicked back in. My kids needed me, and I eased back into the swing of things.

For the next couple of weeks, I probably cried every day. Little things would set me off. Or nothing at all would set me off. I’d just cry. Lots of “whoosh” moments, when an ache hit me so hard in the chest all the air escaped my body. Sobs that rang in my ear, clenched my heart, sent pain to my fingertips. It was hard. Eventually those moments came fewer and farther between. Milder, too. But they’re still around. I hear you never forget.

And then there’s the wondering. Wondering how I’d be feeling, how my baby bump would look. Wondering what it would be like to feel a little baby move around again. Friends announced their pregnancy on Facebook with an ultrasound picture. It sent me to the floor in tears. They are due the same time as me and I couldn’t help but think, “that’s what my baby should look like, too.” I think that in the months and years to come, I’ll always do the math and know how old our baby would be.

We didn’t tell too many people about the miscarriage. A few people at first, a few more as time went on. There’s this weird quietness around miscarriage that I can’t figure out. No one talks about it. As one friend put it, there’s no “protocol.” And she’s right.

No one knows what to do when a woman miscarries. Pretty much everyone knows what to do when a woman is pregnant, and pretty much everyone knows what to do when a woman gives birth. But what do you do when she doesn’t?

Even worse, I wasn’t sure how I was “supposed” to feel. I was sad and devastated. I was sore. I didn’t want to do anything. But was it okay to say that? Out loud? So many women have had much, much worse experiences with miscarriage, even stillbirth. Was I taking it too hard?

The answer to that is that I still don’t know.

One mean thing about miscarriage is you come home full of pregnancy hormones, probably some aches and pains, probably some kind of drugs, but no baby. You have reminders all around you – maternity clothes, pregnancy emails, prenatal vitamins, maybe even some baby gear. But no baby.

In retrospect, I think I needed the same things a new mom needs: support, meals, help with the older kids. I know my husband needed the help since he was caring for me, the kids, doing all the driving and all the cooking, on top of his two jobs. He was a champ. (And if you know him, give him some kudos, please!)

I decided to share my story not for sympathy, but to open the door for more conversation. To let another mom, another couple, know they’re not alone. And most of all, to know it’s okay to ask for help. Miscarriage is hard. It’s a loss, and it takes time to heal.

To all the grieving momma’s out there, I’m with you.

To my little angel in the sky, I love you.

Read part two here.

 


 

If you or someone you know is grieving, there is help. Talk to a friend, ask your doctor, or visit:

    • Cameron’s Garden, a new program through MomsBloom for bereaved parents. For more information on Cameron’s Garden, email Angie at angie@momsbloom.org or call 616.828.1021.
    • Still Standing Magazine, an online magazine embracing life after loss and infertility.

 

Megan I

Megan I

Megan is a stay-at-home mom of 4 who loves to bake, craft, clean, and organize. She has lived in Grand Rapids 7 years and is enjoying the city, her wonderful neighborhood, and all the great places to explore.

 

60 Comments

  • Shannon Giles

    Thanks for sharing your story. You don’t realize until you go through a miscarriage just how many women have had them, at least I didn’t until it happened to me. I still think about the first baby I was ever pregnant with he/she is still missed.

  • Cheryl

    Thank you for sharing your story. It’s such a taboo subject. I’ve miscarried twice and think about my babies often. It’s been 5 years since both of them, and I still shed tears (and think I always will) for my babies in Heaven. I light a candle every October 15th which is Pregnancy & Infant Awareness Day. My thoughts and prayers go to everyone who has had to endure the loss of a child.

  • Cara

    I’m a mom of three little babies I never got to hold. I am fighting back tears reading this, because it is 100% how I felt for each one. You have my prayers as your due date approaches.

  • Jamie

    Thank you for posting this. No one ever talks about miscarriage. We have been TTC for about 4.5 years and have had 5 miscarriages in that time. The last one was about 3 weeks ago. It gets harder with each one. I have no children of my own yet, but I know that God has something big in store for my life and the life of my babies. Praying for all of those that have had to endure the pain and suffering of a miscarriage and/or infant loss. :(

  • LisaR

    I’ve lost 13 pregnancies. I was able to bring 1 to term, and we’ve adopted twice too. My husband finally had a vasectomy because he can’t stand the pain anymore. I think I eventually got numb to it all.

  • Sara

    Thank you so much for this article. Just this morning at work I noticed my coworker’s baby bump growing, and I was supposed to be 2 weeks behind her. It’s so hard to know how to talk about it with others and if I should be. And, the comments that you have no idea how many people have miscarried until you do are spot-on. I had no idea so many of my friends had miscarried until I told my story. Blessings to each of the mommies with angels in heaven.

    • Megan I
      Megan I

      I know what you mean. People don’t understand unless they’ve been there, so I’m grateful we’re able to get the conversation started. Thanks for sharing.

  • Leia

    Thank you for sharing this. I cried as I read through it as my miscarriage is still so fresh. I actually lost my little on on October 15th kind of ironic that its a day in memory of miscarriage and other baby loss. As I’m getting close to 6 months of heartache I hope and pray for another baby.

  • Statia

    Thank you for sharing this. I am so sorry for your heartache and loss. As I went through my first miscarriage, I remember thinking and feeling the same things. I one day said “there are no Hallmark cards for this”. There is nothing that is “enough” to help you through a feeling so deep. Just before my D&C I asked the same thing…what would happen to my baby. It still hurts me and was the hardest part at the time. There was a wonderful poem I read on a miscarriage support site and one particular part of it I recite pretty regularly and it has helped me. “God makes some women mothers for a lifetime, and some mothers for just a day”….but the love and feeling for that child, for that time of being a mother to that child, is still the same. My comfort is knowing God is taking care of the babies I lost, and He is taking care of yours too. I pray that God continues to comfort you.

    • Megan I
      Megan I

      Thanks, Statia. There are so many unknowns when you go through a miscarriage – the disposition of the baby being just one. I’m so glad we’re talking about this. My best to you.

  • kelly

    I lost 2 pregnancies last fall in just under 6 weeks.
    I’m almost 13 weeks pregnant this time. I’ve made it way past my loss milestones, I’ve seen the baby and heard the heartbeat 3 times.
    I know my risks are low of something happening now, but it doesn’t make it any easy to get through the day sometimes.
    I know that when my due dates come around it will be tough. Being pregnant might take some of the sting away, but it won’t make me forget.

  • a friend

    thank you for sharing your story. i’ve miscarried twice and had one stillbirth. it does get easier to remember our little ones as more time passes, but i know i’ll never forget. i’m glad i’ll never forget. maybe the most difficult thing is seeing friends’ children who are the same age as our babies would have been. i don’t begrudge them their joy, but nonetheless, it’s hard. i wish you so much peace as you move forward and hope that time heals you in the same way it has begun to heal me.

  • Bekah

    I lost 4 pregnancies (5 babies) way too soon. I have two precious kids at home, but I never forget the babies I lost. There’s a permanent dull ache in losing a baby too soon. It’s hard to talk to others, especially because so many people say the exact wrong thing! But talking can be comforting because the number of women who’ve experienced a miscarriage is high. It’s a club I never wanted to belong to, but do.
    (Some can say the “right” thing: “I’m sorry for your loss.” “How can I help?” “A person is a person, no matter how small.”)

  • JulieB

    Fighting tears right now…First of all, thank you for sharing your story and I hope that others will find healing, help, support, or even validation for what they may be feeling right now through your story and the responses to come. I experienced two miscarriages, both happened just before we planned to share the news with our families..(and we also had a very healthy baby born in between the miscarriages). I found helpful support through a miscarriage/loss board on babycenter years ago. I didn’t know what to expect during the miscarriage and everything happened at home naturally, within a few days after a trip to an emergency ultrasound appt at the hospital, when we saw our baby, no movement or heartbeat…No Doctor or Nurse, it was the ultrasound tech who broke the news and I was alone, drove home sobbing.. My husband was so supportive and helpful through all that followed. I would love to share an amazing song that carried me through the loss and put words to express the pain in my heart, its called “Glory Baby” by Watermark. I found healing through this song, when it was difficult for me to pray, these lyrics helped me. It’s a beautiful song, you can find it on youtube. God bless!

  • Kyla Joy

    Megan, my friend, you are a beautiful, kind person. I’m grateful that you wrote this to benefit all who have the horrible pain of a miscarriage. It’s physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual. And just so very hard. I am glad that there are resources we didn’t even know about before (because no one wants to look that kind of thing up when they’re expecting a child). Each life is precious. Thanks again…I know it wasn’t easy.

  • Willow

    I have been there too. I do talk about it a good amount but just skim over it. Unless you have been there you don’t understand. I was holding back tears listening to your loss. It is never easy and for me I always wondered if it was my fault some how. I have had another child since but you never forget how you felt when you found out and what that little baby would have become. My husband was amazing through it all and we shared the fact we were pregnant with many so we had to tell a lot of people that we weren’t pregnant. It was really hard. I had no problem with either of my other pregnancies so we thought we would be fine. Thinking of you and praying for you!! Know that you are not alone!!

  • Ryan

    I wanted to give you a dad’s point of view.

    There is no better job in the world than Dad. It is the best. You get to play on the swing set again, jump on the bed and just plain act silly. You also have the sudden magic to kiss boo boos away, be a super hero and rock your little guys to sleep at night. Being a dad means setting an example for my three boys to grow up and be productive, respectful, fun loving men. It is a tremendous responsibility and an extraordinary gift.
    However, becoming a dad was a difficult process. My wife and I always knew we wanted to have kids. We assumed that it was our decision as to when and how many kids we would have. That unfortunately was not the case.

    We had been married for a few years and we decided the time was right. After a few months of trying, we found out that Tara was pregnant. We were very happy, but for some reason a little nervous. We didn’t tell many people because “what if something happened.”

    Well something did. We went to the doctor’s office for an ultrasound and the nurse was taking a very long time. I was looking at the blob on the screen and didn’t know what I was supposed to see, but I could tell it wasn’t good. My wife is a trained biologist and knew right away the baby was not moving. The tech quickly wrapped up and told us she would need to get the doctor.

    The doctor came in and told us the sad news that in fact we had lost the baby. We were devastated. Our hopes and dreams of starting a family had suddenly been shattered. He told my wife that her body would eventually remove the baby or she could have a DNC. She opted for the surgery.

    Two days later we went into the hospital to have the procedure done. My wife was very brave and just wanted this chapter to be over. I was not. I was angry and very confused. I had just gotten my head around being a Dad and now it was over. I didn’t know if we would get pregnant again and if we did, would we have to go through this process again. I was also scared. I was scared for my wife that had to go through the surgery. I didn’t know how this process would affect her emotionally as we tried to move forward.

    The doctors took my wife to surgery and I went to the family lounge to wait. While I was there, the nurse gave me a packet of information on dealing with the loss of an unborn child. I began reading the brochure and I became even more upset.

    Their advice in dealing with my loss was to hit tennis balls into the wall or chop wood. Really? I just lost a child and the only advice you can give me is to hit something really hard? I don’t need to improve my backhand or start a fire, I need to grieve. How about crying? Or holding your wife? Or talking to friends? Give me something I can use.

    Soon the doctor came and got me and told me I could see my wife. She had done really well and was ready to go home. We went home but were not sure what to do. We were sad, numb and confused. We were scheduled to attend a party with a group of friends that night and we were not sure if we could do it. At the last minute Tara said, “I think we should go.”

    Again, I was numb, so I said, “sure.” We were planning on being ourselves. We would go, not let people know what happened and just keep moving forward. That didn’t work. We got there and were surrounded by friends that could tell something was not quite right. They asked us if everything was ok and we just lost it. We told them we just lost our baby and we all cried. It was a very healing experience to be surrounded with people who you love that could grieve with you.

    Each day was a little better and before long the pain was no longer the focal point of our daily lives. We were not trying to get pregnant because we didn’t feel we were emotionally ready, but a few short months after the miscarriage, we found out that my wife was pregnant again. All of a sudden, the emotions came flooding back. What if something happens again?

    Our family and friends were concerned, but everything went according to plan and nine months later our first son was born. The pregnancy went smoothly, but I really missed a lot. Throughout the whole pregnancy I was disconnected. Sure I went to every appointment, helped get the room set up and even went to the baby shower, but I was not emotionally connected. There was this fear in the back of my mind that we would lose this baby as well.

    The day my son was born was the happiest day of my life. I know everyone says that, but it truly was. I was a Dad and no matter what else happened from this day on, I will always have that title. Dad. I cried when I saw him for the first time and when I realized the he and my wife were both ok. All my worries and fears about losing a child were gone and I could focus on being the best Dad I could be. It was wonderful.

    We left the hospital a few days later and started to adjust to being a family. Things were going great and a few years later we decided it was time to “complete” our family. My wife got pregnant and everything was seemed to be going smoothly. We told our friends and family and wanted them to share in our excitement. It was time to go into the doctor for an ultrasound to make sure the baby was growing according to schedule. In the exam room things once again changed quickly. As the nurse was looking at the screen she quickly turned it away from us and told us she needed to go and find the doctor. We knew what was wrong. We had just lost our second child.

    The doctor come in and confirmed our suspicion. He started to go through our options and my wife simply said, “I want this over with.” He scheduled a procedure for the following day. We went home and cried and just held onto our son. Why was this happening again? We were good people with love to share. Why couldn’t we have the family we were suppose to have?

    We now had the horrific task of calling our family and friends and telling them the news. There is no easy way to share this information, and those on the other end don’t know how to accept it. They want to be compassionate, but rarely are. If they have never been through the process, they tell you, “I’m sorry, it will be ok and you are young, you can just try again.” If they have been through the process personally, they tell you, “I understand what you are going through.” No you don’t. You don’t know how I am feeling. You know how YOU felt, but you have no idea how angry, hurt and devastated I am. I am appreciative of you being there to listen, but please don’t tell me you know how I feel, because you don’t.

    Taking my wife to the hospital for yet another DNC brought up a whole range of feelings. I had to be strong, but didn’t want to be. I just wanted to over with. Before my wife went in to surgery we just started talking about life. We talked about our past and our dreams for the future. We are both fun people and before long we were laughing. It was very healing to just let it out and reconnect through laughter in this terrible time.
    The procedure went well, and within a few weeks we were back to a fairly normal routine. There were those awkward moments occasionally when someone who knew Tara was pregnant would ask how everything was going. We had to tell them the story and then console them as they were suddenly put in an uncomfortable situation they were not prepared for.

    We were just starting to think about if we should try again to get pregnant when my wife found out that indeed she was. Again, the emotions came back and again I was not totally involved. I so wanted another child, but the stress and emotions of going through this process was overwhelming.

    Everything went very well and nine months later our second son was born. I’m a Dad again. Two boys, just like what I grew up with. I started crying again. This was now the happiest day of my life. Our family was complete.

    Or was it? We took our son home and everything was great. He fit in perfectly with the rest of us but we felt as though something was missing. We couldn’t put our finger on it until my wife said, “I don’t think we are finished.” What? Are you serious? We have always talked about having two kids. We had such a hard time with the first two, why would we try again?

    She could tell I wasn’t on board so she dropped it, but we both started thinking about it. At times I would bring it up and my wife would shoot the idea down. Other times she would mention it and I would tell her she was crazy. Finally one night we said, “I think if we don’t try, we will regret it.” We just kind of left it at that.

    My wife went away to a girls retreat and forgot to take her bag that had her medicine. We didn’t think much about it because it has typically taken a few months for her to get pregnant. Well, not this time. The following month we found out we were pregnant again.

    If you are following our pattern, this would be the pregnancy that ends in a miscarriage. We both recognized that and decided to talk it through. I told Tmy wife I was scared, and she told me that she needed me involved. I suddenly realized that I had been hiding and I needed to be there for her. Regardless of what happened, I wanted to be involved. And I was.

    Everything with this fifth pregnancy went smoothly and nine months later our third son was born. Now this was the happiest day of my life. Three boys. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have three boys. It was the most incredible feeling. Immediately there was a calm that washed over us and we knew our family was complete.

    Our son has fit right into our family. His brothers love him and he works hard every day to keep up. Our home if filled with love, laughter and lots of boy things. Mom is outnumbered four to one, but she is truly to Queen of our castle.

    I do think about our other babies. The ones that now watch over us. I think about how our lives would be different if they had been born. What would they have been like? Would they have been boys or girls? What color of hair and eyes would they have had? What type of personality would they have? I do find comfort knowing they are in heaven watching over us.

    I believe in angels. I know my grandparents and others that I love who have gone on are watching out for me and my family. And I know I have two little ones that are sitting on their laps waiting to meet Tara and I for the first time when our time comes.

    I love being a Dad. It is the best job in the whole world. I have a wonderful wife and three great boys here on earth and two angels in heaven. Becoming a Dad has been an emotional journey, but it has been worth it. I can’t wait to see what the next chapter has to offer.

  • erin

    Thanks for sharing your story! I experienced many similar emotions and confusions. We had been trying for a year and were so excited when we finally got a poistive test. We had only told about 6 people before i lost him. It was so hard – people didnt know why i was greiving since they hadnt known I was pregnant. I even got called out for greiving too long by someone who never suffered infertility or a loss (it had been almost two weeks) . We named our son (I just knew he was a boy), Chatham Corin on his due date and I made him a scrapbook album. In a few weeks it will be his 7th birthday, and sometimes I still feel sad. I am so sorry for your loss and encourage you to greive in the way that best helps you – do NOT let anyone tell you that it is wrong. You lost a child – a very loved one. Blessings to you and your family.

  • Megan I
    Megan I

    Hi, everyone. Thank you so much for sharing your stories. We are all in this together, aren’t we? Let’s keep telling our stories, and maybe, hopefully, bring more healing to ourselves and others in our path. Thinking of you all, Megan

  • Melissa

    I read the book “Heaven is for Real” by Todd Burpo. It is not about miscarriage particularly, but if you’ve had a miscarriage you need to read it. It gives you hope. I believe you WILL hold your child someday, just not as soon as you’d like.

  • a friend II

    In the same boat, I too have never shared my story, not because I am embarrassed but simply because I am not sure when I will be ready to talk about it at all. I have had two miscarriages, the first at 5 weeks and naturally passed. The second at a little over 10 weeks and a d&c was performed since I was much further along. It is still hard, seeing I have two friends with the same due date. Although they have no clue I lost the baby or was pregnant in the first place, it just remains a stabbing pain when I see those happy fb posts. I am so happy for them both but the clock just closes in on July. I don’t feel it gets any easier, but some days I am able to except reality more than others. In that, I have found comfort in your note, and I thank you for sharing your story.

    • Megan I
      Megan I

      I know exactly what you mean. It’s a hard place to be, and you’re not alone. I hope you find some peace in this post and the comments, and in time to come. My best to you. — Megan

  • Carrie

    Thank you so much for sharing this. I sit here in tears as this brings back many sad emotions. I have 2 healthy children (who I am very thankful for), miscarried the 3rd last summer, and am now 8 months pregnant with our 4th. As overjoyed as I am with this pregnancy, the feelings of loss never go away, and it seems like there are so few people who understand. My due date came and went with no one except my husband having a clue that it was such a hard day for me. The next day, a friend from church had her baby. I will always look at her baby and think of what my baby would be doing and how big he/she would be, etc. My heart breaks for everyone who has had this experience. As devastating as losing a child is, it is comforting to know you are not alone and that other people are experiencing the same feelings and emotions, so thank you again for this post

  • Lyndsey P

    I didn’t want to read this article because I didn’t want to feel the sadness again, but I did because of the line “Too often miscarriage is treated as a silent loss. Help break the silence.” When I had a miscarriage almost two months ago I had such a mix of emotions, and no idea how I should be dealing with them. I felt sad, hopeless, disappointed, relieved, guilty, and sick. No one talks about miscarriage, so I didn’t know how or when to talk about it either. I didn’t want to burden people with my grief. You’re right, I really wanted/needed someone to step in and take my son for a little while, make me talk about it, and maybe help with dinner. I’m so glad I had a friend convince me to talk about it, since that helped me process what I was feeling and start to come to terms with the loss of our twins. I had an emergency d&c since I was hemorrhaging, and I lost a lot of blood. As a result I had the emotions to deal with as well as the affects of the blood loss. It took me a week before I was physically well enough to return to work, and by then I was feeling better emotionally as well since I had started talking about it. Talking through my feelings made such a huge difference to me, breaking the silence is so important!

    • Megan I
      Megan I

      Thanks for telling your story. Together I think we can reach (and help) a lot of people. Let’s all keep sharing!

  • Renee

    Megan, you are such a brave and caring soul to have shared such a personal experience of loss, love and hope. As I read your story, I am sitting here with my two boys, fighting back tears as I am soooo very grateful for their being and even more sorry for your loss. Posting this story to discuss what has happened to you and your family in hopes to help others, is incredibly selfless. May you and your family stand strong and become a closer, unbreakable unit. I wish you continued blessings, peace in your heart and another little one to cuddle with and blow raspberries on. Here’s a tight hug for you, my friend. xo

  • A grandmom

    Thank you so much… I have a few grandangels, and my heart aches for them and my daughter. We have not spoken much and I have encouraged to open up a little and allow herself to grieve. I think your article has helped. Thank you.
    And I am very sorry for your loss. May God grand you peace.

    A grand mom

  • Heather G

    Megan – Thank you for sharing your story. You are right – “Miscarriage is hard. It’s a loss, and it takes time to heal.” No matter where you are at in your pregnancy and when you miscarry – a loss is still a loss and you need to grieve no matter how long it might take.

    We had been trying for 4 yrs unsuccessfully when I found out I was 6 wks pregnant with our 2nd child (March 8, 2013). On March 19th I miscarried. Because we started having complications almost right from the start we told our family and very close friends who have been with us through all the updates and lab reports. I thank God every day for my son (who will be 6 in August), and grieve for the child I lost. We had just accepted the pregnancy because we thought that it wouldn’t happen, and were excited only to have that taken away. I knew for me that I needed something to help with the grieving so we attended out 1st support group through Spectrum — Sharing Our Untimely Losses (SOUL) and felt a connection with the others there.

    • Megan I
      Megan I

      Thanks for sharing your story, Heather. I agree, a loss is always a loss, no matter how far along you were. And thanks for sharing about SOUL, I just read about that and plan to include info in my next post. — Megan

  • Kristin Meyer

    Thank you so much for sharing your story and to everyone else who also shared. I wanted to share a resource that meant a lot to me when I was going through infertility and also provides support to those who have endured miscarriage and infant loss. Stepping Stones is a ministry of Bethany Christian Services and has a free newsletter and great discussion forums also. The website is step.bethany.org. You can request the newsletter there and link to the forums. They also welcome guest writers to share their experiences with the other over 3000 people around the country who receive the newsletter! Maybe someone from this group would be able to share their experience even more broadly to continue to give voice to the heartbreak of so many!

  • Kim

    I had a miscarriage at what would have been 11 weeks. I passed the baby naturally at home. It was a terrible, painful expierence. The hardest part was what should I do with the baby. As I stood there staring down at the toilet bowl, I cried. Nothing felt right. I finally made the decision to flush the toilet knowing that we have a septic tank and all would be passed into the earth over time. Sounds so horrible but nobody tells you what to do ahead of time. I have planted flowers over the septic tank in our yard and have a little garden angel bear nearby. I have the blessing of two beautiful daughters but a miscarriage is a loss you never forget!

    • Megan I
      Megan I

      Kim, I know exactly what that’s like. Not only is it painful and scary, it’s incredibly sad. And you’re right – you don’t hear stories about miscarriage, so you don’t know what’s next, or what to do. I hope this post (and the next) starts to change that. Thank you for sharing your story! — Megan

  • Nicole

    Thank you for sharing your story. I still ask myself, why is talking about a miscarriage so bad?! I had a miscarriage last fall. I can not describe how lost, helpless and devastated I was. I cried for days, non stop. It took several months, but I am now pregnant again. I thought this pregnancy would help me forget, but it doesn’t. I would have been due in just over a month from now, instead I have 6 months to go. I still ask, why can’t we talk about a miscarriage?! Why?! I needed people to talk to. No, there was nothing they could do to help, but just talking about it seemed to ease the pain and helped me come to grips with what had happened. I found that when I did open up, many of my friends had had miscarriages that I had never known about. Why hadn’t we talked about it before? I thank you for bringing light to this subject and hope we can start a trend of openness among women to allow them to offer support in such a time of need!

  • Christine Stander

    Thank you for sharing your story of loss. Your sharing is obviously creating a ripple effect of healing. God bless you and your family!

  • Pingback: Thank You For Sharing Your Story: My Story of Miscarriage, Part 2 | grkids.com

  • Candice Hendrix

    Thank you for posting this intimate story of your loss; I am truly sorry that you, and so many others share this heartbreak. It brought up painful memories for me from so long ago (well, 45 years ago) that I purposely don’t think about.

    I got pregnant when I was still in high school. When I started to miscarry I was caught up in the throes of a physically abusive relationship and just dealing with that was plenty of drama, besides trying to finish my senior year and graduate. There wasn’t time nor was there any inclination to grieve a miscarriage. I was only aware of feeling relief. My life was in chaos and I could hardly breathe much less think about the loss of a child.

    Fast forward… and now I have a lovely daughter who brought your article to my attention. I was thoughtful about it for days… and I am so thankful that I am beginning to understand a part of what I was going through so many years ago: it was a great LOSS. And loss brings great grief and sorrow. I didn’t have a clue about the hormonal changes and great sadness I was feeling at the time.

    After I had read your post, my friend said she wanted to plan a party for April 7 and I felt my heart kind of lurch; I thought, we CAN’T have it on April 7, she can’t just pick my day out of the blue! Then I realized April 7 was the day I had started to miscarry.

    Do you suppose God continues the healing process even this long? …as long as it takes? I think.

    I am very thankful for you Megan, and your gift of communicating to us. We need you and I’m glad you are here to be the catalyst for so many to be able to share. And thank you for letting me share. I realize my story is very different, but perhaps other mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers have atypical thoughts to share as well. I’m glad to acknowledge the importance of that time in my life.

    • Megan I
      Megan I

      Wow, thank you for sharing your story, Candice. I am so sorry for your loss, too. And I am grateful for your words, your perspective, your support. My best to you, Megan.

  • Mttnyc

    Ohhhh Meg :) so sorry to just hear of this now…xo

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