>Remembering Little O

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(There are two stories I know I must tell before I can continue my series on PPD. This is one of them.)

Measuring the tangible is easy. During Pumpkindoodle’s last physical it took about 10 seconds of her standing on a scale for us to learn that she weighs 34 pounds and is 40 inches tall. Nothing to it. But the intangibles, it’s not so easy getting those vitals. How does one measure loss, fear, or sadness? They cannot line up next to a growth chart to be labeled. Only their beholder comprehends their mass.

Six years ago, The Professor and I learned we were going to have a baby. Immediately, I was in love. Not with a dream or a hope, but with my baby. My baby, conceived just five weeks prior to the exciting revelation. We bought books, talked about baby names, and guessed the gender. My husband guessed boy, but I felt certain that she was a girl.

Panic set in when a nurse shared her concern regarding my blood test results. But my doctor quieted my anxiety, “She should not have said anything to you. Results vary. Everything is fine.” Three weeks later, scarlet spots of blood alerted me that my baby was not fine. In fact, she was gone. I never held her, or even felt her tiny foot flutter inside my tummy, but she was loved with intensity. And I missed her.

My doctor tried to comfort me with statistics. His nurse scolded me to pull myself together lest my tears upset the happy mothers-to-be in the waiting room. My legs trembled as if I were walking a tight rope without a safety net. Through blurred vision, I entwined my trembling fingers with those belonging to my husband and we walked toward our car.

Many people meant well, but few understood my pain. The most common response was a sympathetic “I know someone who had a miscarriage and now she has two beautiful children. Don’t worry, you’ll have another baby.” My heart churned with sorrow and anger. Outwardly, I smiled and thanked all who offered solace. But inwardly, I shouted, “She wasn’t a goldfish. She was my baby and I wanted her. I wanted this baby.”

Friends, I do not know the blistering agony of losing an infant or a child. I cannot compare the pain of losing a baby nested inside my womb for eight weeks to losing one who lived inside of me for 30 weeks. Truth be told, I don’t think we are suppose to compare. I think we are to take each loss when it arrives and allow ourselves the time to grieve; and to invite comforting arms of Christ to hold us while we crumple and cry.

I do know that for eight weeks, I was a mother. And I know that I desperately ached to know the life who once grew inside me. The Professor and I named her Little O, because that was the size she was when we first discovered her existence. We grieved, we let go, and we embraced a new life. But that first little being, while insignificant in the eyes of many, will never be forgotten. She’ll always be a part of me and owner of a piece of real estate in my heart. And one day, although it’s too much for my puny brain to understand how, I’ll meet my little O in Heaven.

The hurt of a personal loss is immeasurable. Also immeasurable is the love God has for His children. And though I cannot get my ruler out to scientifically prove it, I know without a doubt which of the two quantities is bigger.

“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you…” Jeremiah 1:5 a (NIV)

30 thoughts on “>Remembering Little O

  1. >Thank you for sharing this precious and heartbreaking post. I too lost a little one just a week after learning we were expecting. Your heart always remembers that precious little person. No doubt I was meant to read this today. Earlier I received an e-mail from a friend. She has a little toddler but desperately wants another baby…(she married later than most and is now over 40). She had no problem conceiving the first time, but miscarried a baby at Christmas and just today miscarried again. I know she spoke to me today out of intense pain and anger, but it broke my heart to hear her say she has “given up on God.” She’s pulling away from the one who can begin to bring about healing in her heart. I’m praying for her and offering to be available to her. Thank you for reminding me the importance of being a compassionate listener right now.

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  2. >Found your blog through Adventures in Babywearing. This post really hits home with me. I suffered 3 miscarriages before beginning medication to help me carry to term. Now, I have a beautiful 11 month old boy. You’re right though, miscarriages change you. They are never forgotten even when you have a baby to hold. I will never be one of those moms who looks forward to ultrasound visits because for me, that was the room where I received bad news. I was the mom that the signs that the U/S tech couldn’t give out info were for… I had to see the doctor afterward for the news. Thanks for putting into words something I haven’t yet been able to.

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  3. >Beautifully written and so true. I’m so sorry for your loss and completely – COMPLETELY – understand the ache and emptiness in your heart. Someday we WILL get to hold our little ones. It’s a thought that reduces me to tears everytime. Little O is not insignificant at all… and He knows that.

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  4. >I totally and completely understand as I lost a baby at 9 weeks. Though it wasn’t my first I still wanted that baby to hold and love. Never forget that baby just don’t let it run your life. My baby would of been 3 this last Dec. Know you are not alone in your feelings.

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  5. >I love the way you’ve written the first paragraph of this – it’s so true of loss and fear and sadness – “only the beholder comprehends their mass.”Thank you for sharing such a personal story.

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  6. >My heart aches for you this day. Bless you for sharing your story, I know it was not easy. You are faithful.He is there…Somewhere…He is there.

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  7. >That was heartbreaking! I believe that loss is still loss- no matter the age of the baby/child/adult. I’m sorry you had to go through this.

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  8. >Thank you all for your beautiful and encouraging comments. The Lord has healed my broken heart after losing precious O, but I felt the need to share this story for several reasons.1) It’s been on my heart to share it because I know that sharing such stories can help others.2) Miscarriage can be misunderstood and I wanted to bring light to my feelings at that time.3) Women who have miscarried are at a higher risk for PPD, and also to share more of my story about PPD I had to first share about the miscarriage because it does tie into my experience.Thank you all for your love and I do hope that my story can be an offering of comfort to those who need it. Love, Angela

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  9. >I think it’s wonderful that you shared your story. I too suffered a miscarriage, last year, after I already had my two children. It was almost as if some people thought it didn’t matter because I already had two. It’s amazing how people react. I was so surprised at the way people responded that I wrote a magazine article about it called “Miscarriage Manners” that advised people on how to talk with women after miscarriage.

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  10. >What a precious post. I am so sorry for your loss. Praise Jesus for being the God of all Comfort!Thank you for visiting my blog! I have been blessed by finding yours and will return!

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  11. >Loss can be so raw, heartbreaking, and seemingly senseless. And yet, in my own experience with this uninvited life changer, I find it has softened my heart. Intensified my sympathy and sensitivity for others, made me a woman of deeper substance. I would never have chosen to lose a child, but God has certainly done a redeeming work in my life! Made something wonderful out of the indescribable pain. He is amazing at that. I see the evidence of his work in your life too sweet friend!

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  12. >this is a tremendously beautiful post… I love the way you explained in this open, honest way.I feel better prepared for the next time a woman confides this pain to me… thank you

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  13. >You put it so well when you said, “I cannot compare the pain of losing a baby nested inside my womb for eight weeks to losing one who lived inside of me for 30 weeks. Truth be told, I don’t think we are suppose to compare. I think we are to take each loss when it arrives and allow ourselves the time to grieve; and to invite comforting arms of Christ to hold us while we crumple and cry.” Loss means different things to different people, but the important thing is that we lean on Christ to get us through it.Beautiful post…thank you for being brave enough to share.Xandra

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  14. >Thanks for stopping by my blog today. I’m glad to have found yours. You have some wonderful writings here. May God bless you on your continued journey, drawing ever closer to Him each step of the way.

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  15. >Love your honest and real spirit that is shown through your writing!May God continue to use your writing as a ministry to others!Blessings to you … and I’m now “hooked” on reading “Becoming Me” 🙂

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  16. >thank you for sharing your story.i suffered a miscarriage at 14 weeks (in 2000). i had been praying psalm 139 over baby, and after i miscarried God allowed me the blessing of holding my sweet tiny boy… my eyes saw his unformed body, and my heart saw so much more. it was a difficult time for me, i never felt the freedom to grieve because a good friend had recently lost a baby,stillborn at birth.i didn’t feel i had permission, and so i went through the grief alone (and with my husband). shortly after my next child was born waves of fear,lies,grief, disappointment, hurt all set in. It took 3 years to climb out of. Reading your story gives new perspective, as i ask was it ppd?can i let go now of the guilt i hold from living those years in survival mode, hmmmm. and finally let me say, that though i miss my son- caleb, i know that he lives in God’s “love better than life.” i rejoice in that!

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  17. >I’m just catching up on some blog reading. This is a beautiful post. I suffered a miscarriage in my 11th week of pregnancy. It’s something you can’t explain, because so many people want to dismiss it as not being a “real loss”. Yet the pain was very real to me, and unlike any other I’ve experienced.I take great comfort in knowing that Jesus is holding that child for me until I get to Heaven.

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