>Remembering

>Seven years ago today I miscarried our first baby. While the pain from that experience is no longer pronounced and I am not mourning, I will forever remember “Baby O.” I first posted this story several months ago, but being the anniversary of the loss and also knowing that this may bring comfort to those who may be grieving during the holidays, I felt led to reprint it.

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.

Seven 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 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)

32 thoughts on “>Remembering

  1. >Oh the tumult of emotions I feel as I read this! First, anger with the incredibly insensitive nurse! Second, Yes. You became a mother the moment life began within you. I discovered that with my pregnancy.Third,I never miscarried, but thought I did in the eighth week. In a visit to the bathroom, I discovered something like a clot that was expelled by my body. The sense of loss and grief was immediate and deep.THey never did really figure out what that was, and my girl was born (not without other ensuing drama throughout the pregnancy and delivery)healthy and beautiful.I like to think that because of my experience, I can identify (even if not completely) with those who have lost a baby.My heart goes out to you. Thank you for opening such a secret place and sharing it.(((hugs)))

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  2. >Your words capture the agony and for me it was agony, and you are astute in the fact that comparisons with losses are never needed. Each loss is difficult and I thank you for your words..ps I want to throttle the nurse even 7 years later.

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  3. >I’m so sorry about the loss of your precious baby. I’m so grateful that she (I think “she” too) is heaven waiting to meet you someday! I can’t believe that nurse was so insensitive. That is absolutely horrible.God bless you for sharing your heart with us.Beth

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  4. >I needed to read your post today. We lost a baby 8 weeks ago today. I’ve been trying to pull myself together because “everyone” says that I need to move on. I will never forget the 8 weeks that I had with my little one and I can’t see how others expect you just to forget it. Thank you for letting me know its okay to never forget.

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  5. >We lost our baby at 8 weeks in October. The grief has been so overwhelming and even after 2 months, I have moments where I can’t breathe. This week, I should be finding out my Jellybean’s gender. I should be feeling his kicks. I should be naming him. I know how blessed I am to have my little boys running around the house this holiday but I still long for my Jellybean.This morning was really hard again but reading your blog has given me strength. Thank you so much for opening your heart once again and touching mine so deeply.

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  6. >As an “old” labor and delivery nurse, my heart aches for your loss. I saw it too many times and it never got easier. I could never imagine, as hard as it was on me, to be the woman in the bed rather than beside it as I held hands and cried with them. Bless you for sharing this.

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  7. >Thank you for sharing, even though it is such a private matter… Im sure someone out there will read it and say, Oh someone else knows what it is like… and you will have blessed someone.

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  8. >Thank you for resharing this. My best friend had a miscarriage a few months ago, and I’ve wanted to be of some comfort to her during this time. Thanks for letting me know what it’s like inside. That helps. =)

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  9. >I just found your blog. My heart goes out to you too. I miscarried once as well and the depths of emotions are truly only understood by those who have experienced I think. People say the craziest things.

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  10. >My heart hurt for you was I was reading this story. I cannot begin to imagine the unfathomable depth of your pain. My mom had two miscarriages before she had my little brother, and although she held it together in front of me, I know it had to rip her apart inside. Your strength is inspiration to others going through such heart-wrenching times. Thank you for sharing this personal story.

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  11. >GREAT post. how true – comparison is not healthy – pain & grief are real no matter the loss. again – what a great post – thanks for you vulnerability & letting us be blessed by how God claimed it!

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  12. >I miscarried last month, the second miscarriage in 2 years. I don’t have any words to say except THANK YOU for posting this, especially at this time. My eyes are filled with tears and my heart hurts for your loss and mine. So many things you said are so true. Our babies are not goldfish that can one day be replaced. They are their own little spiritual being that God knew before even forming them within the womb.And we shouldn’t compare. To say one’s loss is worse than another’s loss is incorrect. Each one of us has to grieve the loss of a baby, no matter their stage of development. *HUGS*

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  13. >i know several women who have gone thru this, including my sister. i feel ashamed that even as a mom myself i am not more sensitive like i should be. thank you for reminding me that though we may not have the same hurts in life…hurts HURT and we all need love to each other completely thru it all!

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  14. >Thank you for sharing. And this is something I will remember where to find if I have a friend who needs to read it some day.You are a very gifted writer and I often find your posts remaining in my head for days afterward and this one will be there for a long time too.

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  15. >I am sorry for your loss. I have had 2 miscarriages, one at 3 months, and the other about 5 or 6 weeks. I also had infertility issues. (But praise God now have 2 beautiful daughters!!!!!)God is in control of all things, and I just remind myself that. I thank him that I do not have to endure all that Job did to follow him. And know that what is taken away will be returned – just like Job.

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  16. >This is beautiful. I love everything you write. It is like fine art – meant to be savored and enjoyed. Thank you for sharing the story of the loss of your precious baby. I know you have touched many.

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  17. >This past fall I walked closely with a dear friend, more than a friend a sister who lost her sweet baby girl at 39 weeks. To watch this process was so sad. I have never lost a child and all I could do was hold her, hold her breathless little girl named Arie and offer comfort in only the ways that God could give me. You are right a loss in any degree is huge. Never let go and just get over it. God gave you life and you are now using that precious life to help others along, as I have read the commments. Thanks for sharing your experience and blessings as your story heals the hearts of others who share the same kind of loss.

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  18. >May I join the batallion of 7-weeks miscarriage survivors here? I lost a baby a few years ago. Right about the same time, “Held” by Natalie Grant was hot on the radio, and it spoke so deeply to me on such a personal level (I’d just lost my beloved gremmom, too). It’s as if she wrote it just with me in mind. To this day, every time I hear it, I weep, both in grief and joy, grief for my baby, joy for Jesus’s loving arms that hold me while I sob out my pain. You’re right, people don’t get it. It was just a beginning. After living through it, I’m amazed by the girl I used to work with who miscarried something like 6 times before carrying a baby to term. What strength!Anyway, God has chosen not to add to our family, for reasons best known by Him. It’s been a lesson in being grateful for where we’re at in life and for what He’s provided us – in our case, a healthy and happy preschooler. And maybe, someday, a chance to foster a child. Miscarriage is not the end, it just feels that way, doesn’t it…

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  19. >I’ve never had a miscarriage, and I thank you for your transparency and love in sharing this. As with most losses, it seems like we all have “a nurse” who is insensitive and hurtful, whether s/he means to be so or not. One more thing that I hope God is using for good.I’m so sorry for your (and the Professor’s) loss, Angela. I can’t wait to meet your baby in heaven.

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  20. >I love how you said that we need to allow ourselves to grieve. My sister lost her mother-in-law last week and she just says that they need to “forget those things which are behind, and reach unto those things which are before.” That is true, but God also wants us to grieve for those we have lost.Thank you for reminding us of this.

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  21. >Mine was six years ago and it was the first hardest time of “trust and faith” I had to go through in believing HE was there and in charge and still cared…I understand..and I’m rejoicing that one day in the very near future ..those babies lost will be returned to us in Heaven..yes I do believe that He will make ALL things right there!

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  22. >Thank you for this post.After my first miscarriage 2 1/2 years ago,I was also truly amazed at some of the comments people would say. I realized though that people would make comments to try to understand the loss themselves and others just simply do not know how to grieve with others.My best times of comfort were when my friends would just let me cry on their shoulder( or over the phone) while they prayed for my heart.

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