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The following are stories from people who have been touched by miscarriage or stillbirth.
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It all started on a Thursday, I was still sleeping and a sharp pain in my lower abdomen woke me up. So I got up and used the bathroom and started to get ready for school. I’m a junior at my high school and I’m 16 going on 17 in June. I’m like the model student and the last person you’d expect to be having a baby. But anyways, at school that whole day I was having pains that would come and go, some more painful than the others. It was a half day that day so I got out at 11-ish. I got home and my pains were really bad and I was crying. I called my boyfriend and he said we should go to the hospital so we went. Once we got there they sent me to labor and delivery and had me change into hospital clothes. They tried to find the heartbeat of my 5 month old baby; they didn't find one. They brought an ultrasound machine and tried to get a better look. I am not stupid and I knew what had happened and I needed someone to tell me. The baby had passed away and it was up to me to deliver the baby myself of have surgery. I was gonna do surgery and then I went to the bathroom. I went and I had one more pain and this red bag thing came out. At the time I had no idea what it was and I had my boyfriend who was waiting by my bed to call a nurse. It felt like forever for someone to come and help me. Finally a nurse came and found me in the bathroom. I looked into the toilet and saw blood and other things and got sick from the sight of it. They took me out of there and gave me a shot on the side of my butt and took my blood. They had told me it was the baby that came out of me and the placenta. I was horrified. Everything happened so fast and I had no time to really absorb it all. I was hoping this was all a bad dream but it wasn’t because I never woke up. I called my parents and they came and saw me. I stayed the night because my blood pressure was high. And at night I could hear baby cries from other rooms and wished I could see my baby girl, my baby was a girl. I saw her too, she had little ears and fingers and the cutest little toes. I miss her everyday...feeling her push inside and stretch. But all I can do is take it day by day and hope to make peace with what happened. Me and my boyfriend, the baby's father, are doing a little better but we're confused and wonder why us and why this way.
—Wendy Nineteen years ago I lost two babies to miscarriage within one year. The first one I cried but moved on with this thought ”It happens.” But a few months later it happened again. Guilt and anger were the foods that fed my spirit and I couldn’t get beyond it. I was stuck in time unable to go forward. No support. No comfort from caring friends. I was the one acting foolish. Just get over it. No one would allow me to grieve. A few months later I would become pregnant again and this baby would live. Yet my grief still hung deep in my heart. After a few years I finally could trust God again and ask for His healing. He did amazing things to bring healing. How I wish I could share them all so that he would receive the glory.
Then the feared thing happened on August 14th, 2005. Our first born son married almost two years lost their baby at 11 weeks. Once again this tragedy hit our family. But this time something is different. Though my heart is sad it is not broken. I’ve gained strength over the years and I can stand and hold my son and his wife and together with God’s almighty strength all will get through the loss that many have a hard time understanding. Thank you for pursuing this outreach and just being hope and understanding with those facing an un-understandable life event.
—KayAnn
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Our story is this: and I share it hoping it will make sense and bring comfort to others!
My husband and I miscarried our baby 12 weeks ago, I had been given a promise of Exodus that miscarraige wouldn't visit my house. So I was a little confused. Did God get it wrong? As I read on in the same scripture it read.............And the Lord will number your days. So if God numbered my days - then He also numbered the days of my baby! It consoled me a little! And as it was happening, my
husband came and prayed as the baby was leaving. We felt that it would be a good idea to ask God what the sex of the baby was and what name should we give it. Felt it was a wee girl and that her name should be Martha. So rather than have the feeling that in some way we were being robbed, we felt that we were dedicating Martha to the Lord and giving permission for her to go. It was incredibly freeing. I really believe that she is with the Lord - and she will never be touched by the awful things in this world. Of course we would have loved to have held her and watch her grow - but that wasnt to be. Joe has children from his first marraige, and I was tearful when I heard him answer when someone asked him how many kids he had and he replied 5! counting Martha in!
I do have days -(normally when my period arrives!) when I wish that it had never happened - and I want to be so pregnant - but I have experienced unbelievable time of peace just knowing that God is in charge of all my stuff. He lost a son - He really does know my pain. But I have a daughter waiting for me in heaven and I will see her. We have a name card that my sister bought and my ultrasound
photo - all part of my photo album...she will always be part of my family, no matter how many kids we may or may not go on to have!
—Rose
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I am 32 years old and as I tell ladies that I talk to, God has blessed me with 7 wonderful children. 3 of which He is allowing my husband and I to hold and raise in our home. 4 He chose to take to heaven with Him before they were born, (my oldest two children will tell you that they can't wait to meet their other bothers or sisters in heaven some day). My family has been through A LOT in the past few years. My first pregnancy was picture perfect. Naturally I figured any other pregnancy would be the same.
A little over six years ago I had my first miscarriage at 6 weeks and since then have had three more. Unfortunately each miscarriage I was a little further along into my pregnany with the last two being late-term miscarriages. Out of the 4 miscarriages we know that one was a little boy, (Landon Alexander), because I lost him at home and I was able to see a perfectly formed little boy and hold him in the palm of my hand at 14 weeks. No one could ever win an argument with me that a fetus is not a real baby until they are born. My son had all ten fingers and toes, and I could even see his dimples, and he was only 14 weeks. Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you so you could see where I was coming from. God has preformed SO many miracles to allow me to have children and even saved our 3rd baby after birth when the Dr. was not sure she was going to make it.
God has been doing a work in me over the last couple of years and He has called me to speak to ladies who are hurting due to a loss. You mention on your website about how people treat you and the things that they say are not always the best. That is mainly what I have been speaking about. I have found during my losses that people didn't always know what to say so they either said the wrong thing or they said nothing at all, and sometimes that hurts more.
My husband and I are youth pastors so we have people around us a lot. After my last miscarriage, I went to church a few days after I had the baby. The church had been told of our loss and my husband had taken a couple of days off to stay at home with me. I walked into the church, sat in the service, and walked out without one person ever saying one thing to me at all. We left that church and moved here 3 months later with no one, including the pastor, ever saying a word to me. That just made the pain that much more real.
I decided at that point that I would never let someone hurt the way I was hurting because of lack of support. Even though I had a couple of close friends and family there to support me, I felt very alone.
I just wanted you to know that I truely appreciate your website and I pray that God uses it to minister to people who are hurting. God has already allowed me use my experiences to reach out to others and I pray He will do the same for you.
—Cheryl
In January, 2005, my husband, Justin, and I went to church as normal. Between church services I went to the toilet and found that I was starting to bleed. I was 18 weeks pregnant. After going through a miscarriage in November, 2003, I'd been terrified, and yet still trying to hang onto the hope that this pregnancy would not end in the same pain as the last one.
Unfortunately, I've been proven wrong.
I rushed back to Justin and after letting a friend of ours know what was happening, we went to the hospital where the gamete of emotions started to hit. “Are we too late? ... It could be a false alarm. ... It could be nothing. ... The scan I was due to have Monday would let us know everything would be okay. ... God, you know what's going on, give us a miracle!...”
When we got to the hospital, a nurse did a doppler to check for fetal heartbeat and even I knew all we could hear was mine. At that stage I still hadn't quite given up on the fact that maybe things would be okay - a numb acceptance of what was happening was setting in.
A while later, the doctor came down. So off I went again. The scan showed that there was no heartbeat, but even the registrar, Tom, seemed as gutted as I was. Yet still no tears. His colleague, the senior registrar came in and checked again, and confirmed Tom's diagnosis and said that the baby seemed to be the size of a 14 week fetus. With that they left me and I sat there, trying to absorb this news.
What had I been doing at the time that could have caused this? Did I lift something too heavy? Was it because I started to have coffee again now that the nausea had gone? Was it the cats?
The next thing I wanted to do after being left alone was to smash things, make a large noise and scream. But I didn't do any of that. Justin was obviously anxious outside as I heard him ask about how I was doing, and a nurse went out to get him. At least now we were together and could discuss our options.
Jenna, our four year old, was very matter of fact when we told her. She said we'd have to get a new baby and that everything would be okay. She's such a sweetheart and was so concerned for us.
So there we sit, faced with no more baby, no more potential in this baby, no future sleepless nights, dirty nappies, no excuse to refuse to waterski, or do rollercoaster rides. Yet it's still inside me, not doing anything, but I'm still carrying this child.
In November 2003 we decided to have a D&C, under general anesthetic. I think once we knew we'd lost that baby, whom we later named Jordan, we did what we thought best at the time.
I had felt as if I'd had no closure with Jordan. We'd no photos/scans, no prints (hand or foot), I didn't start to show. It was over before we felt it had begun. This one we had a scan photo of, we've been given compassion by the hospital staff and by friends.
We decided to have a non surgical procedure, which has to wait until Tuesday. We went to church for the evening service. People prayed for us and strangers rallied around us. We were able to praise God for who He is. It was certainly easier this time, the first time (2003), there was a battle to do that. The songs chosen for the service were about believing in a bigger God, one who does miracles and to sing Hallelujah and still to be able to mean it, even through tears and pain.
I have no fear in being able to run into my Daddy's arms, because He said He loves me with unending love. I have no fear in asking for a miracle, even though I don't understand the 'selection' process. I have no fear facing giving birth to a baby that is only here in body, but not in spirit, because the spirit lives on with God. I have no fear in being able to trust God with this child, because He knew it before I did. Nor do I have any fear with giving Him any of our other children, although the pain would be intense.
Like Job, I will not curse God. For God to have the Glory, I don't need to understand everything. I don't need to see in the spiritual realm to know that there is warfare going on. I don't need to see that with each of my tears that Jesus is gathering them, never to be wasted. I don't need to know what the future holds, just that God holds me and my family in His hands.
We got to the hospital on the Tuesday morning, but we didn't know what to expect.
Justin was trying to look after the kids while I was being treated. About 2 hours after the mesoprostal was given I had started contractions. As I moved in bed my waters broke, and I just felt stunned. I called a nurse in but as I went to change in the toilet I felt something between my legs. When I reached down I was able to hold this tiny little baby, Sarah (we found out later in the day that it was a girl). I was shocked. I didn't expect this strange looking child to be inside me. Her colour was nothing like I'd expected, she was brownish in colour. Her head was so easy to move, as the skull plates hadn't formed fully.
I asked the nurse if I could see Sarah, and she was brought into me. This was the hardest part. Wrapped in this tiny bunny rug was this baby. But as I looked again I could see the baby that I had been praying for a dreaming of. I looked at her and realized that she was perfect, she was tiny, but absolutely perfect. Her arms were so small, her hands were the same size as the nail on my little finger, but you could see nails. Her legs were long and slender, but again, with perfect little feet, the same size as some of the earrings people can buy of baby feet, in objection to abortion. I realized that her head seemed misshapen because she was no longer supported by amniotic fluid, and having been macerating for the last four weeks no doubt things had deteriorated somewhat. Her tiny facial features though were too small and unsupported to let me know who else she might have resembled in the family. Her little mouth would never smile, never suckle, never cry. Her ears would never hear the words I wanted to speak to her. Her hands would never feel my grasp. She would never feel how much I loved her and wanted to hold her to me, but I did it all anyway. God had her now, Sarah and Jordan, and the two could grow together.
My husband had initially said he didn't want to see Sarah, it would be too hard. But with my reassurance that it was okay, he took the time to spend with her. We had her brought into us, and all of the kids had a look if they chose to. He said it was the hardest thing he ever did, but it was worth it. Sarah was now very real to him, and our kids, and we are able to talk about our time with her. He held her, touched her and cried. For all our lost dreams and hopes in this child. For never getting the chance to see her grow up, like the rest of our children.
We were able to have an autopsy done, and have her body cremated. We were given a small red box, and her ashes could have filled a thimble. We were devastated and mourned her deeply. Her autopsy revealed nothing, everything seemed normal, no congenital abnormalities. That was good, but didn't help us with any answers. I want this baby back, I want our other baby back, yet I've empty hands, and a sorrowful heart.
Nine months have passed, and we have had our ups and downs. We have moved interstate, and have settled in a new home. But we still both think of her. For months if we saw a baby up to a year old we would feel that emptiness, but we faced it, we didn't hide from that feeling. We still question. We are still fearful that if we were to have another baby that it might happen again.
I have no control over anything that goes on, but I can control my thoughts. I can stop feeling guilty for things that I had no control over. I will not let Satan take any glory from God. I will use this experience to help others. God has not changed, He still loves me, and I am still His daughter, His princess. He hurts on my behalf too, and I can trust Him with how I feel.
I know that Jordan and Sarah will be with me everyday of my life. Some days I will think of them and feel sad, other days I will just think of them, and ask God to look after them until we can meet again. Some days I won't give them much thought, but they are still a part of our family, and their memories are treasured.
—Phil
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