Miscarriage and Infant Loss

I want to talk about something that’s really hard to talk about, but it needs to be talked about. Miscarriage. Losing a child is never an easy thing. Nothing about it is easy. It doesn’t matter if you were 3 weeks in or full term. It was still your sweet, perfect baby. When I was 15 weeks pregnant we found out our baby had passed away. We had no idea anything was wrong. In fact, we had heard his heart beat just a couple of weeks earlier.

We were visiting Levi’s parents for dinner. (Levi is Baby Gregory’s father) I’d had morning sickness all day every day through the pregnancy but the last 3 or 4 days I was finally feeling better. I’d even felt good enough to get my hair done and dress up. Shortly in to our visit I began feeling very, very sick. I left Levi and the kids with his parents and I drove home. I proceeded to become violently ill. I tried taking a warm bath but I couldn’t get my body under control. I called Levi and told him I needed to go to the hospital.

Levi’s mom came and sat at the hospital with me while he took the kids home to get them ready for bed. Everything seemed standard. IV was hooked up. I was looked over. The dr. listened for baby’s heartbeat. Then he said, “I’m having trouble locating the heartbeat, but that’s very common this early on.” Guys, my heart sank. Something didn’t feel right. I didn’t think my baby was gone, but I knew something was wrong. He ordered an ultra sound. We went in. And I could see my little guys hands and fingers. But I couldn’t see any movement on the lines they take pictures of. I felt scared, but I told myself it was nothing.

We went back to the hospital room and waited. and waited. and waited. Finally, a new dr. came in and introduced himself and mid conversation I heard the words “fetal demise” My entire world stopped. I remember saying, “Wait? fetal demise? Does that mean… my baby is gone?” and he said, “Yes, your baby has passed away.”

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t hear a single word he said after that. I was in the second trimester. I had done everything right. I didn’t smoke or drink. I ate healthy. I avoided lunch meats and hair dye. I did everything I was supposed to do. And my baby died.

It took almost a week and several dr. appointments before I was able to deliver Gregory. The drs could not decide the safest way for me to have him. It was a week of carrying my son and knowing he was gone. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Just breathing hurt. We had planned for and wanted him so much. During that week the crib we had ordered arrived. A long with miscellaneous gifts friends had sent us. Onesies, bibs, sweet, thoughtful gifts. At the time every package I opened cut a little deeper.

On March 20, 2018 I checked in to labor and delivery and was induced. After several hours of labor pains my son, Gregory Lewis, was born. He was born with 10 little fingers and 10 little toes. He was perfect. I held him and talked to him and cried for what felt like an eternity and a brief second all at the same time. It has been 7 months now. Seven months since we said, “hello” and “goodbye” to our son. And let me tell you… it still hurts. I believe it will always hurt. And that’s okay. Because losing someone you love, no matter how long or how short of a time you got to love them, is supposed to hurt. That pain you feel is a reminder of the amazing love that you had and still have.

So many people reached out to me when I announced his passing. People that I had had no idea lost their babies too. And all of them shared their stories with me. And I was so grateful. Knowing I wasn’t alone helped me pull myself together so much. It broke my heart that these women and men were hurting and feeling that same pain we were, but it was so comforting to know other people understood and were there for us.

The reason I’m sharing this with all of you is because I want you to know a few things about miscarriage. It’s important to me that you know these things and that you believe them.

1.) When your dr. tells you it’s not your fault. Believe them. I know it’s hard. I do. I played the “What if” game for months. I blamed myself. I hated myself. But sometimes, it doesn’t matter if we follow all the rules and do everything perfectly… these shit things can still happen. And it isn’t fair. It isn’t right. But, it’s also not your fault. I promise.

2.) Don’t preface your story with, “I know I wasn’t as far along as you were” or “I know it’s not the same but” Listen to me very carefully, it does not matter how far along you were. That was your baby. It doesn’t matter what stage of life/creation they were in, they were still yours. And you don’t ever have to negate the pain you feel because someone else’s child was at a later stage of creation than yours. You shouldn’t negate that pain. Because your love for them was real and was and still is all that matters.

3.) Grief has no time frame. Some people will pull themselves together and move on immediately. Others will crumble in waves for the rest of their lives. Both of those things are normal and okay. Do not feel guilty for moving forward, for getting pregnant again right away, for not hurting as much as *you think you should be*. Some of us attach sooner than others. Some of us are more logical than emotional. And that’s OKAY. Don’t be so hard on yourself. And the reverse is every bit as true too. Some of us will never be able to let go of that pain. We will hold on to it for the rest of our lives. We will be overwhelmed and crumble in tidal waves of grief that come and go unexpectedly. And that’s okay too. You don’t have to hide that pain because it’s “been so long.” Let it in and let it out. It’s okay to be okay. And it’s okay to not be okay.

4.) No matter how much we want to we can’t bring them back. But we don’t have to let go of them either. We can talk about them. Use their names. Celebrate their birthdays. Find small ways to keep them alive in our hearts and memories. Maybe you’ll bury them and give them a gravestone and bring them flowers and visit them. Maybe you’ll plant a tree in their memory that you can visit. Maybe you’ll make your peace and move on. Whatever you choose is up to you. But please don’t ever feel weird about keeping their memories alive. It’s not weird. It’s beautiful.

I’m here for you. In fact, there is an entire community of people who are here for you. If you need to talk, message me, I will listen. If you need to be around and hear other peoples stories? Call your local hospital or your family dr. and ask if there are any support groups in the area. There are many books on the subject. There are online support groups. There are groups on facebook. You are not alone and you do not have to feel alone. Reach out. We are here for you.