# Share your loss--celebrate a life



## indiegirl (Apr 15, 2002)

I thought it might be nice to have a thread where we can all share our losses. That way our stories are recorded in one place--

Disclaimer: Everyone should feel free to post whatever details they feel they need to, so this thread may contain graphic descriptions.

Also, let's try not to respond in this thread. This is just for our stories.

Love and light to you all~

Jesse


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## indiegirl (Apr 15, 2002)

Didn't mean to post and not respond! Here is the story I wrote about my wee one whom I lost in December of 2001.

______________________________

When I had my daughter, I wrote her birth story a week after she was born. She laid on her daddy's chest while I recounted the events of her birth. I was triumphant and proud, overwhelmed with emotion.

Tonight, nearly two weeks after my miscarriage, I find the need to recount what happened. I waiver on the edge between an overwhelming sadness and a sense of peace. I never want to forget the life that was; though in the remembering there is much grief.

Things were not going well with my midwife. She was a friend and wonderful woman but was not returning my phone calls and seeming to take her time scheduling me for an early ultrasound to date the pregnancy. There was confusion and frustration on my part; I felt like I wasn't being taken care of. I was afraid to push for what I wanted, after all, she was a friend. I didn't want to "bother her." My frustration mounted and I decided to begin the process of looking elsewhere for care. I called the four homebirth midwives on my insurance's list and left messages around 5pm on Wednesday the 19th of December. By 5:30 that night, one had called back. I was in the middle of making tuna casserole-my family's favorite cheap dinner. I spoke with her as I was making dinner. Violet was playing in her high chair. Mike was due to arrive home any minute.

"Honey, how far along are you?" she asked me. I started to cry. "I don't really know. I thought I was only 11 weeks, but my midwife thinks I'm measuring farther along than that. She thinks maybe 16 weeks."

"Why don't you just come on down to my office. I have an ultrasound machine that can date your pregnancy right away to ease your mind. You could come on down tonight-though I know it's late notice." I didn't hesitate. "I'll be there at 7."

Excitement! An ultrasound that night! When Mike got home we were both relieved and hopeful that this was going to be the new midwife. Mike couldn't go along, though, because he had rehearsal. I drove to her office (30 minutes away) and fell in love with her birthing center. It was attached to her house and very, very nice. The midwife was dressed very formally in a suit and gold jewelry. She ushered me into the main room of the center and had me lay down on the bed. Violet played with toys in the next room.

"There's your uterus-that's definitely a pregnant uterus. See all the fluid? Oh, and there is your little baby. Now that is not a 16 week baby." She moved the scope around a bit without speaking. "Honey, can you push in right here with your hand to hold your belly down?" I thought, "Oh, I'm getting so huge so early&#8230;my belly is in the way."

She still didn't speak. "Is everything ok?" I asked as I studied her face. She was very solemn. "Well, I'm trying to find a heartbeat, and I just don't see one." She moved it around some more. I focused on the little bean-shaped child and knew. My eyes welled up with tears. "The baby isn't alive, is it?" I asked. "No, sweetie. It doesn't look like it. I'm also seeing that your uterus is very jagged up here."

"What does that mean?" I'm crying now.

"It means that this is a pregnancy that probably won't continue."

Somehow, I knew. Not on a conscious level or anything, but deep down, I had a hard time connecting to this baby from the beginning. I attributed it to working full time and having another child keeping me so busy. There were times I felt guilty for forgetting I was pregnant. Of course I felt connected to the idea of having another child, but this child's spirit never reached out for me like Violet had.

By this time I was sobbing. There I was in a stranger's office, a half-hour from home. I couldn't call my midwife. What would I say? "Uh, I was interviewing someone to replace you and found out my baby is dead." It was a sticky situation-how could I get referred without my midwife's consent?

"You need to go to the emergency room tonight and tell them you are having terrible cramps. Make them give you an ultrasound. From there, they can refer you to a doctor who can manage your care. Make them listen to you." She said.

I got in the car and somehow got us safely home. I called my dad right away and sobbed to him the news. He was sweet and sad and said all the wrong things, but he usually does and I could tell he was trying. I called my friend who lives in the same building at work. I choked to her that I had lost the baby and could she please watch Violet tonight and could she please bring me a pack of cigarettes. She was on her way home and would be at my house within 20 minutes.

The funny thing is that I actually quit smoking for this pregnancy. I hate to admit it, but I never quit with my daughter. I felt guilty and regretted it so much that I stopped for this baby. I still lost it.

My friend arrived and held me up until right before Mike got home. I didn't know how he would take it and knew he needed to not have an audience when he heard the news. He got home and the first thing I said was, "Sorry that it smells like smoke in here. I've been smoking." His face sort of contorted and he began to ask "What? I don't understand." I simply said, "Honey, I lost the baby." He rushed to me as I began to sob. He held me up and supported me to the couch. His arms held me tight as he cried with me. "Oh Jesse. I'm so sorry" he said.

I told him about the plans and he, although shell-shocked, agreed. Our friend came upstairs as he was on the phone to his dad. It was 10:30 by now. His dad was asleep. After he was done apologizing for waking him up, he said, "Dad, we lost the baby" and started to sob to his father. Such a different conversation from when our daughter was born&#8230;those tears had been so happy.

We went to the hospital and were ushered right in. My blood pressure was through the roof and they were worried about me. But then we waited in our room for what seemed like ages before the on-call doc was in. She asked me a million questions that I tried to answer, but I was really just lying so it was hard. She was about to diagnose me with the flu. "It's really going around."

"You don't understand, I think I am having a miscarriage. I need you to see if my baby is okay!"

She did pelvic exam and said my cervix was closed. "Must be a bladder infection," she deduced. Shit. This wasn't working.

"Look, I know I've miscarried. I had an ultra sound at a midwife's tonight and she couldn't find a heartbeat. She told me to come here and make you give me an ultrasound." The doctor looked at me like I was a lying sack of shit and said, "Well, why didn't you say that in the first place? Who is the midwife of yours?" as she threw the Pap smear swabs in the trash. I tried to explain but it was too much. I wouldn't tell who gave me the ultrasound-I wasn't about to get her written up. She was just doing something nice for us. She stormed out. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. The jig was up.

Turns out I did have a bladder infection. My labs came back that night showing a severe infection. News to me. A doc was going to call me the next morning to have me come in. I went home and fell into a dark, fitful sleep.

The next day I was seen in the early morning by an odd doctor who wouldn't make eye contact and kept asking me what I wanted to do. I told her I wanted an ultrasound to confirm a miscarriage and then a D and C. "Ok" she said, like I was the boss. I have to laugh. My biggest beef with docs is that they are too in control of women's bodies. This doctor was letting me do everything from diagnosis to treatment.

She did an internal ultrasound and a regular one. Baby looked bigger than on the midwife's ultrasound, but the poor thing was just laying there. Sort of floating. No heartbeat. I kept looking at it, thinking I could will it to live. It looked so perfect and so beautiful.

She sent me to radiology where the u/s tech switched on the TV-sized screen for us to watch. She did a ton of tests on the baby. The saddest one was when she showed the heart rate line. It just ran straight. I burst into tears. I cried in that office for nearly a half hour. She couldn't get her tests done. She kept saying how sorry she was.

So the D and C was for that night at 5. We arrived at 3pm and the kind nurse who gets me changed for the surgery told me she'd get me a pretty gown. They were all so nice, except they couldn't get an IV in me. Finally, I had one vein left. We all had our fingers crossed. It worked. I still have the bruises on my hands from their missed attempts. Oh well. I call them my battle scars.

The rest is fuzzy, although deeply painful. I tearfully said goodbye to Mike before surgery. The nurse led me down the hall toward the operating room. We walked through the doors and the smell of hospital overwhelmed me. It was freezing and the bed looked like a modified cross. The arms of the bed were perpendicular to the bed itself. The arm restraints were clearly visible as was the body restraint. It was so cold. I was shaking uncontrollably. I got on to the bed sobbing. I lay down under the sterile white lights and knew this was the last time I would ever have my baby with me. I wanted to stop time and hold my empty womb, I wanted to die. I reached up to my tummy and whispered, "My baby, my baby&#8230;" The nurse took my hand and held it. "I know, sweetie, I know."

I woke up in pain. Meds were injected. Somehow I got to the car. Somehow I got home. I don't really remember much about the night.

The next day was better. I was up and down. We had a party that night (a dinner party at our house-I'm crazy, but I didn't want to reschedule. I needed my friends.) I made a beautiful alter for the baby with all of the condolences people had left on Babyzone and cards we had gotten. Our house was full of fresh flowers. We lit a candle and I wrote a message to our child:
To our beautiful baby
You were wanted
You were loved
You will be deeply missed
Love Mommy, Daddy and Violet
I put up stars and fresh flowers on the alter. The baby's ultrasound photo. The alter was simply beautiful. It helped so much.

A week later I went back into the operating room for another D and C. My uterus was infected and there was a large amount of tissue and clots up there causing the infection. The second time around was easier. The nursing staff remembered me. One asked what the baby's name was. "Elijah or Isabella" I said. "Which do you think it was?"

"Elijah," I replied. "Well, both Elijah and Violet are lucky to have you as their mommy." God, the kindness of those nurses still makes me teary. They were angels.

I'm doing better. My heart still aches. I'm sure it always will. I believe that this did happen for a reason-though I am not sure why yet. Time will leave me the lesson, that I am sure.

Jesse 1-1-02


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## Ms. Mom (Nov 18, 2001)

I'm trying to cut down my story to 100 words or less. Not an easy task for me. I'll give a brief account and update later.

I had my first miscarriage in Fall 1990. We had just bought a house and I had just had surgery on my uterus. I didn't notice I was late. I was scrubbing the floors and began cramping and bleeding. The next day I went to the doctor thinking there was a complication from the surgery - it was a miscarriage. I was very busy with my career and the new house and I put it to the back of my mind and totally ignored it.

Then, the same thing happened in 1992. We were going through infertility treatments and I had what I thought was a very severe period caused by the hormone injections. It was another miscarriage. I was very sad, but got on 'mission pregnancy' and didn't really deal with that loss either.

In September 1993 I hand my 3rd miscarriage. Again, miscarrying before I even knew I was pregnant. My miscarriages were all complete and I didn't need a D&C. This miscarriage hit me hard.

I had told NOBODY about the miscarriages, not even family. I was embarrassed and felt ashamed that my body couldn't even perform.

In 1994 I was inseminated. They weren't too hopeful because there was only one egg, but I KNEW I was going to get pregnant. Sure enough, I did. I bleed off and on through the pregnancy, then I hit 4 months and thought "ok, I'm getting my baby this time".

I LOVED being pregnant. I loved how my body was curving and the feeling of life within my body. It's the most amazing feeling.

On December 7th I had a feeling of dread all day. The baby was moving in hard jerky movements. Everyone told me she was settling and getting ready to be born, but something didn't feel right within me.

That night I had a nightmare that I was in a maternity shop. the ladies in the store told me I couldn't buy anything because I was not pregnant. Then I was in a dark ally, running and screaming for Amanda. I woke straight up in bed and Rory was already awake, he said "I haven't been able to feel her in hours".

The next day I went to work, my tummy was rock hard and I knew. Rory picked me up and we went for the ultrasound, she was gone.

They began to induce me that night and 3 days later, I was still not ready to give her up. I got physically ill from the induction drugs and was sent home for a night. It was the most horrible night of my life. We went back on December 13 and started the induction again. On December 14, I finally was in full labor. Rory hadn't decided to go and get something to eat and the nurse left the room. It was dark and I had a lot of pain. Then I felt her feet. I couldn't get to the call button and her butt was coming. I could feel it. Finally, the nurse came in and finished delivering Amanda. I was so glad to be alone with her when she started coming and I was thankful for the nurse who delivered her. I didn't need the doctor. Amanda was 5 lbs. and 17 inches long. She seemed so big to me, I know people say they seem so small, but she seemed HUGE to me!

The placenta was only 1/2 the size it should have been and there were several spots where it had torn away. There were also many clots in the cord. It was amazing she lived as long as she did.

She was born on a Tuesday and buried on a Friday. The funeral was beautiful and the priest was so dear. I'll be eternally grateful to him.

In all of this, I lost my mother and most of my family. They didn't understand the deep pain I was in.

As I spoke to people after her birth I got the usual "you're young, there will be others" type of comments. But, nobody knew of my infertility issues or the miscarriages. It was a very dark time in my life.

ds was born in December 1995, one year later. Then, when he was 18 months old I had another miscarriage. I allowed myself to grieve this time and the results were amazing. I actually felt a healing within me.

In March 1998 I again started bleeding. I knew this time it was a miscarriage. I went through it and even passed the baby (I hadn't done that with the others - the baby was too small). I was sad and had resolved that ds would be my only living child. A few weeks later I felt very ill - flew like symptoms. I went to the doctor and darned if I wasn't still pregnant! Most likely I had miscarried a twin.

Dd is wild and complex person. I sometimes wonder if she's missing her twin.

I've always wanted children and the urge to have more didn't subside, until about a year ago. I realized that I'm satisfied with my two living children.

I still feel an emptiness for my children I've lost, but I've also found a place of peace in my life.

Thank you indiegirl for starting this thread. I look forward to hearing others stories.


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## MossbackMeadow (Nov 1, 2002)

I have three healthy children born peacefully at home in 1990, 1993 and 1996.

Baby #3 had a "vanishing twin" and was born dragging along an empty sac of water about 10 inches long. My son was named Zane and in my mind I named the missing twin Zoe. The placenta was big and misshapen. I retained clots and didn't feel well for quite a while. At 3 mos pp was diagnosed with Grave's Disease. Took medication for a yr and went into remission.

In the fall, 1997, I miscarried at 6 weeks. Still busy with baby so it didn't affect me much.

March 2001 - began miscarrying at 9 weeks, on the same day that I received a cancer diagnosis. - Not a good week for me!

Sept 2002 - miscarried again at 9 weeks while on a camping trip. Wahhh! What is wrong with my body!!

Oct 02 - found out I was pregnant again - this is going ok - I'm having a DIY pregnancy and hopefully birth. I'm at 34.5 weeks now and feeling great. I'm age 37.

My family doesn't know about any of my mc's. I didn't feel better until I made dh sit and listen to me grieve and have a good cry.

I've had no testing. I wondered, in the wake of the Grave's and the cancer, if something wasn't wrong with my immune system. But , we just clung to our faith and carried on, and lo and behold, here we are.

MM


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## emmaline (Dec 16, 2001)

I always wanted children, and from the time of becoming sexually active my body called out for for them. I managed to contain this strong urge till I was in my late 20s. I went to a seminar about achieving goals and set a goal of having a baby by age 30! somehow my partner (now dh) agreed though it, and we conceived easily in June 89. I was in bliss for a few weeks - till 8 weeks when I started to bleed. I went to see my doctor, she sent me home to rest in bed. I knitted baby clothes for my good friend who was due at the same time as me. I cried a lot. Dh brought me nourishing food and drinks but I couldn't eat. That night I started to cramp and bleed heavily, I sat on the toilet and passed clots and finally something clearly a fetus, my thighs were covered in blood. I have little recollection of what happened next - vague memories of days spent in bed singing songs I'd learned at the meditation group I went to and crying. Friends dropped in often, bewildered by finding me alternately distraught and next minute making horrible jokes. I was quite mad for two weeks. My doctor suggested a D&C as I was bleeding a lot. I resisted believing a trip to hospital could tip me right over the edge. She gave me hormones to stop the bleeding. I went back to work, and back to life, but everything had changed, my heart was broken, I was so very sad, betrayed by a body I'd tried so hard to care for. But in a fundamental way I did feel connected to all the mothers out there who love and lose babies.

Dh and I decided to marry. We conceived again on our honeymoon a few months later in February 90. Surely it can't happen again I thought but I was wrong. I spent a terrible night of labour-like contractions and again miscarried at 8 weeks. This time I did go to hospital as I was feverish, and had a D&C. A very bad experience. I remember coming back from the theatre groggy and hearing the wailing of a griefstricken mother calling for her baby. I realised it was me. I hid under the sheet curled in a ball for the days I had to stay for IV antibiotics. A friend worked in the hospital and I asked her to bring me my charts - the written diagnosis said "septic abortion" , I felt like a criminal. I asked the resident doctor for a certificate so I could take some time off work as I was in no state to do my job. She said "after this procedure most women go back to work next day" as if I was just lazy or self indulgent. Later I discussed this with my doctor who suggested a written complaint to the Patient Advocate at the hospital. I did this and my letter was used with my permission in inhouse training for staff as well as a booklet for mothers who had recently miscarried.

Now I was on a mission for a baby and within a year had my first son safely in my arms, after a massivley anxious pregnancy and all sorts of problems I never expected including a c-birth. I pushed down the memories of my losses and got on with being Mother. But the pain would bubble out, especially when we did not seem able to conceive again, and I had almost resigned myself to one child only when I became pregnant with my second son in 97. His birth healed many things for me,and in my relationship with dh.

2001 was an interesting year. A serious crisis for one of my older brothers precipitated a number of things within my family of origin. I decided to enquire into the death of the twin of my youngest brother in 1967 and sent for a copy of his death certificate. I also initiated some discussion of his death with my mother and other family members. I had always been haunted by this brother's memory though he died at 3 weeks when I was 6 and (as kids were not allowed into maternity hospitals then) I had never seen or held him. A therapist helped me to make a connection between my grief around the loss of this brother and my own losses. She suggested some ways of finally laying these babies to rest and this helped enormously, but I still have occasional moments of acute grief, when reading of the losses of others from the Pregnancy and Birth Loss forum and trying to gather my thoughts to write this.

I also turned 40 in 2001 and that was my "cut-off" for babies, I did not believe we would have any more, but found myself pregnant in early 2002. Surprised but very pleased. But I had another loss at 8 weeks, nowhere near as dramatic as the others physically or emotionally but still I felt very flat till the EDD when a couple of odd things happened : my breasts started to leak colostrum and ds2 started telling stories about his invisible sister! I again discovered I was pregnant and am now 35 weeks.


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## Sandra Dee (Aug 5, 2002)

Wow - your stories are so profoundly sad. I ache for you tremendously.

I was blessed, I suppose, in my loss. We discovered I was pregnant after not really trying. I was upset - unhappy with DH because he had "ruined my timing" and because we didn't have a chance to try gender determination techniques. I was so ridiculous! If I had only known...

We spent Sunday at a local farm. It was almost Easter. We had pictures taken with the Easter Bunny, held baby chicks. The next day I instant messaged DH at work..."What should we name the baby?"...we decided on Jadyn. "Should it be Jayden or Jadyn?" I asked. "Jadyn".

Hours later I felt "the discharge feeling". Since it was the first trimester, I figured it was just an increase of mucus. I went to the bathroom and there was blood. Not a lot, but enough to be alarmed.

I called my new OB - whom I had yet to see. I explained what was happening and they reluctantly "allowed" me to come in. I called my Aunt to watch the girls while we went.

The doctor asked what was wrong - I explained. He collected urine and did an in-office pregnancy test and said it came back negative "which is probably a good thing since you already have two that are so young"







WHAT????????

He was a cold hearted jerk. I asked if there was anything I should be concerned about...heavy bleeding or what not. He said "well, if you start soaking a pad an hour then yeah, I guess you should be concerned...just go to the hospital". He never asked about D&C...he never did a damn thing. He just sent me out of the office with the smug "this is a blessing you idiot" look on his face.

I got to the receptionist's desk and she started planning my next appointment. I said "is this all really necessary?" and she snapped "yes - you have to be seen EVERY month until you hit 32 weeks!". I said "I'm no longer pregnant" and burst into tears. She gave me the SNOTTIEST look and replied "Well, I'm SOOOORRY - How was IIII supposed to know?????"

I stood up and walked out...sobbing the whole way.

We had to stop at Target for pads on the way home - I assumed tampons were not a good idea. I couldn't bear to go in - walking past maternity clothes and baby things to get my pack of baby collecting pads. I sat in the car and cried. Wondering what we'd tell the girls...wondering how we'd get through it.

I went to the store the next day and bought a pre-pieced Precious Moments quilt. It had a big picture of a little boy and girl angel on the front, sitting on a cloud. On the back little angels were preparing for a baby - painting a cradle, looking through a baby name book. I'm sure it was meant to be for a *live* baby, but it seemed perfect for the angels welcoming our Jadyn home.
I hand stitched a white ruffle around the outside of our quilt and slept with it. I hugged a lavender hippo DH bought that day at the farm for Jadyn - the day before we lost her.

Someone I had never met sent me $50 in paypal to buy something in her memory - we were SO poor at the time (students). I took it to the angel store and bought a lovely framed print and let my oldest DD get an angel baby windchime. It hangs in our living room.

April 9th is the hardest time for me - the day we lost her - even more difficult than the month she was due in, which is busy because of birthdays and anniversaries. The daffodils always seem to bloom on the sides of the highway around that time - which remind me of her. I try to buy an angel *something* around that time - or do a random act of kindness for someone else. This year a friend lost her baby around the same time, so I sent her all sorts of things from comforting sites.


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## Katana (Nov 16, 2002)

Thank you, Jesse, for this thread.

I've had two miscarriages. Both at 6 weeks.

I got pregnant in August of '93, when I was 18. I didn't tell anyone, not even the father. I was just starting my sophomore year in college, at a very religious university. I knew I'd either have to drop out or get kicked out once I started to show, as I was not married. My parents would have disowned me, and I wouldn't have known where to go. I was terrified.

So, I lived in denial. I didn't feel strong enough or brave enough to have a baby. For a very brief instant, I considered getting an abortion. I couldn't do it, so I knew that I had to prepare myself to be a single mom.

On a Saturday morning, in September, I woke up, nauseous, hot and just feeling weird. I was having horrible cramps, and I barely made it into the bathroom.

I'll never forget all the chunks of blood, or how I felt like I was going to die. I lay on the floor in the bathroom, crying and hoping that no one came in and saw me.

I was in shock, and afraid, and guilty and just horribly sad. I'd been scared, but I loved the baby, desperately. I shut down, and ended up going to work, about an hour later.

I kept having to go back to the bathroom to change pads or to pass more blood. And then I'd have to go back to the counter where I worked and act like my whole life wasn't falling apart.

I didn't go to any doctor, or tell anyone what had happened. I was punishing myself, and I believed that the baby left me because he knew I didn't really want him. The next three months were very hard. I wouldn't deal with the grief I needed to, and it affected my whole body. I couldn't sleep, I didn't eat, I had headaches.

Eventually, I just buried it all.

I got pregnant again, five months after dh and I got married. The unresolved baggage from the first pregnancy resurfaced. I refused to take a pregnancy test, although I couldn't tell dh why. He didn't know about my first pregnancy, I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't.

I took the test finally, right at about five and a half weeks. There was a very faint line. I harbored the news in my heart, telling dh it was uncertain, and that I'd retest in a couple of days. Four days later, I started bleeding, and I lost that one as well. I told dh I had thought I was, but I wasn't, that it was a false positive. I told him the bleeding from the miscarriage was just a really heavy period. He believed me. I didn't go to a doctor this time either, again punishing myself.

So now I had two to hide and not deal with.

When I got pregnant with ds, I didn't take a test till I was almost eight weeks along. And I didn't tell anyone I was pregnant until I started to really show at about five months. His whole pregnancy was filled with fear, grief and guilt.

It was only after I had dd, nineteen months later, that everything finally came out. She was born five weeks early, and when I started to grieve about everything that had happened with her being early and being in NICU, the two losses hit me full force.

I was in depression for almost six months. I still didn't tell anyone about the miscarriages, feeling like no one would understand why I hadn't said anything. But I did realize that there was a whole bunch of stuff I needed to deal with.

I finally told dh about the miscarriages, just this year. He was sad for me, that I hold things inside like this, and don't talk about them. But he understood, like he always does. And he was so supportive and helpful and loving, I'm so thankful for that.

I feel at peace, for the first time in 10 years, and am trying to be gentle with myself for not dealing with this sooner. I feel like my two angels, wherever they are, are together, and happy, and loved. And that everything is going to be all right.


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## Gemini (Apr 9, 2003)

Very nice thread idea....(beware, I'm long winded...sorry)

In 1996 I was living a pretty "wild" life if you will and had bought a set of pregnancy tests and had one left over sitting in my drawer for months. One night as I lay in bed not being able to fall asleep, I had a weird thought come into my head as I realized I had to go to the bathroom. "Why don't I just go pee on that test just to waste it, it's just burning a hole in my drawer anyway." (pretty weird line of thinking I know







: ) So I did and after I brushed my teeth or something to pass the time, I look down and it was positive







....it was like 1:30 in the morning so I couldn't call anyone. I was in utter shock, (when really no reason to be shocked due to my careless behavior, but I digress). For all the ways to react to a pregnancy at age of 22 by guy I met in a bar, for some reason I couldn't wipe the smile off my face! Even though my situation was down right horrid, I felt a glimmer of hope and an immediate bond to this being inside me. I was dilagent about going to my appt's and went on as I did with work having NO idea what I was going to do, but in my 22 yo naivete, I didn't know to be a wreck about the whole thing!

I had an appt at about 9 weeks and no heartbeat yet and the doc assured me that is often too soon with their doplers so I didn't worry. My next appt wasn't for 4 weeks when we'd for sure hear it I thought! I was 13 weeks and had gone on a trip for a week before the next appt, and had started spotting ever so slightly and for whatever reason, I didn't think anything of it. Probably because the doctor hadn't talked to me about it at all. I just continued to spot for a week or so, but never anything bright red, just the brown "end of period" type of stuff. I finally went to my appt on December 24th, 1996 and I was 13 1/2 weeks along and the doc could not find a heartbeat, he didn't freak out but was very concerned. He wanted to do an u/s and I couldn't get one done (not one in that office) intil Dec. 26th. Basically, my Christmas was ruined. At the office the next day the u/s guy was very nice and to the point which I liked (I'm sure my doc told him I was young and single and had no partner support so he was extra nice it seemed). He asks me "Do you still feel pregnant?", and when I thought about it, I told him no I didn't but hadn't realized it. He tells me that he'll be able to tell right away if the pregnancy is "good" or "not good". I liked his choice of words. So right away putting the probe on he shook his head and tells me that it doesn't look good. He tells me that the pregnancy stopped growing at about 10 weeks or so. I was bawling. I had a appt for a D & C scheduled on the 28th and it was horrible, I cried the whole time and the nurses were so nice to me, telling me about their miscarriage losses too. Besides that, I really had no support about my loss. Everyone thought it was "for the best", and I hated hearing that. Me having my baby would be for the best, dammit! But I didn't really grieve about it until February, but even then I didn't work through the pain fully.

Meanwhile, I got together with my now hubby and we moved in together and very quickly got pregnant (it was planned even!). The next day after being intimate I knew I was pregnant, I could just tell! We were so happy about it and I loved being pregnant. I got past the "scary" 13 week part with everything going well. I had the triple screen done at 18 weeks and the same appt we scheduled my u/s for the next week. My doctor got my results back and saw the AFP was off the charts high, but noted I had an appt for the u/s in four days. She decided to wait to tell me about the abnormal test until it could be confirmed by the u/s (whatever the reason was for the high #, the u/s would tell why), but she did call the office and tell them that it was high and to be on the look out why. We went into the u/s appt excited and unknowing to what the tech already knew. We spent 25 minutes looking at our baby in awe of it all, seeing arms and legs, and a beating heart. The tech showed us a great looking baby but not spending any time on the head (didn't realize that til afterward). After that time about 3 other people came in looking at something not telling us anything except "something is wrong." I started freaking out and crying and this other woman tech asked why I was upset and I told her I had had a miscarriage before, and she says "Oh, it's not that bad honey, nothing like that will happen here." No lady, it was worse...(I wanted to go back and punch her after we found out the news). We are put into a room for 45 minutes (a lifetime) before we are taken upstairs to a room and are told a doctor will be in shortly. She comes in and tells us "I've been looking at your u/s pictures for the last hour, and I'm sorry to tell you that your baby had a rare birth defect called Acrania where the skull bone did not develop, so the brain has developed abnormally. Your baby will not live outside of you once it's born." After much conversation, she tells us that our options include abortion if we so choose. My then bf (now hubby) actually wanted to do that, and I told him I couldn't do it, and I wanted to carry the baby to term and give birth, and to spend the time we can with her (found out it was a girl). So the next 4 months are spent preparing for the inevidable but being mostly upbeat about it. We relished in every moment of the pregnancy. We named her Chloe Louise. I ended up having her on August 24, 1998, and she lived for 5 hours (her birth is a thread in itself! she was breech!)! Those five hours were the best five hours of our lives! Many family and friends came to see her as they chose and she died in my arms surrounded by the love of family. It was a beautiful experience. We had a memorial service for her and many attended. We have pictures of her around our house and all kinds of momentos of "angel's" in her memory. She is a constant in our lives. But a postitive constant.

I have since had two beautiful girls (not without thir own problems each pregnancy, but that's another thread!) and we talk about Chloe all the time! Lately Liza has been talking about Chloe a lot and says how she wants her big sister "to come over". We try and tell her that she's an angel, but she still wants her "to come over to play"! She's so sweet! We don't get sad when we think of her, we are actually very happy to talk about her, because thats helps us to keep her ever present in our hearts. She's our daughter and she has her place in our family.

(edited for my chronic typos







: )


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## Viola (Feb 1, 2002)

When I had my miscarriage, I was visiting my family in Virginia, and it just happened there were about 15 various family members and one friend sitting around in my mom's little condo when my heavy bleeding started. I had to crawl to the bathroom and sit in the tub, and in a strange way it was a very uplifting time because I had so much support. My sisters and mom told me about their miscarriages and we were actually cracking jokes and such. A type of gallows humor to lighten the mood. I was really hungry and someone made me dinner, and my nieces took complete care of my daughter after my little one accidentally saw me bleeding. One of my nieces was about 23 weeks pregnant at the time and I could see her getting upset, so I told my sister maybe she should take her home.

I kept moving between the tub and the toilet, and when I felt big stuff coming out of me, I'd reach up and help it out. But once something big went into the toilet. The water was so dark with blood that I couldn't see where it was, but I had to reach in and grab it. I couldn't get it, but my sister put her hand right down in the bloody toilet water and picked it out for me. It was a rather large clot, and we put it in the sink and took photos of it. After I went to the hospital, my friend, a close male friend who is germophobic and scared of poop and snot, scoured the bathroom and cleaned up all the blood I left behind. He said that blood doesn't bother him. It was actually the first time in the entire visit where I felt like I really understood how supportive that family could be, because we had some arguments and conflict at times before that.

I was 11 weeks and there was no baby, according to the u/s I had at the ER the night before, but I just had to make sure. My husband was back home in Nevada and really going crazy, but I think things worked out for the best with me being with all my female family members. I was supposed to fly home on Sunday and started spotting Friday night. At first the ER doc told me that it was probably normal bleeding, but after the u/s he said I was having a miscarriage. I asked if I was OK to fly, and he said as long as I hadn't started bleeding, I was. I bled lightly the next day, and then while I was sitting down Saturday night, whoosh, the big outpour came. I am so thankful I wasn't on a darn plane cross country when it happened. I shudder to think what that would have been like. As it was, I got home from the hospital at 4 am and had to leave 11 hours later for the airport. The flight home turned out to be a disaster too, and that was hard to deal with coming out of the supportive environment I had been in. When I found out that we had missed our connecting flight and would have to sleep in the airport or find a hotel at 11 pm, I got so upset that I went into the bathroom, locked the stall, then kicked the maxi pad disposer thing violently until it was completely dented in. My mom told me it was lucky I wasn't arrested, but I figured a security guard could have actually helped me out if there had been any around. The airport was practically deserted.

The nurse had told me I was OK to fly as long as the airport arranged for a wheelchair, but that I shouldn't walk a lot or carry things or I'd start bleeding a lot more. So there I was walking and carrying my 3 year old in a sling, plus carry-ons. No wheel chair, and since I missed the connecting flight, no bulkhead seating. I didn't really bleed much at all, though, so the nurse was just being overly cautious, I guess.


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## trippenfaerie (Jun 17, 2003)

I, too, want to thank you for starting this thread! What a wonderful place to breath!

I have had 2 miscarriages, that I know of, for sure. I am fairly certain of a few more, probably because of low progesterone. At least that is what the dr. said.

My first was in 1992, before dh and I were married. I was 23 and he was 21. We had been together for 1.5 years, living together in bliss. Then I found out I was pregnant and it tripped me out. I come from a very catholic background, although I don't practice. I knew my family would freak out. But dh and I decided that we were going to get married someday anyway, why not make it in 2 weeks at his parents house? They were shocked, but excited. 4 days before the festivities, I woke up with slight bleeding and I remembered that my mom had told me the story of 1 of her losses. That was how it started. So I called her and she said to stay in bed, but dh said that we should go to the hospital. We were flat broke and had applied for Medical but had not been approved yet, or seen a doctor and I was already 2.5 months along. So we went to the emergency room where we were shuffled around for 5 hours. I was in excruciating pain at times and no one would listen to me that I knew I was losing the baby! Finally I told them I had to pee or I would explode, and when I went to the bathroom it all came gushing out of me. I saw it and screamed, and the nurse came running in, and told me not to look. They took me to a room with a gurny and left me there for anouther 2 hours with no one with me. I had asked them 3 times to get dh, but no one even told him what was happening.

After they discharged me, we talked about still getting married and I called my boss to tell him that I lost the baby and I was taking the rest of the week off, he said "you mean you aren't coming in today?" I was speachless.

At the wedding all I heard was whispers about how pale and sick and sad I looked.

Over the next 7 years I feel I lost a few babies, late periods, excessive bleeding, etc. All of the signs. I never got to grieve that child. After I had my ds in 12/99 and realized he was the spirit baby I lost, I felt so happy that we had finally come together as a family!

Then I conceived again in 2002, the baby was due on 9/11. I thought WOW! Trip out! I wonder if one of the people I knew who died on that day will be my baby!! Then I woke up at 11 weeks with spotting...again. I knew, right away, it wasn't going to work. DH was at work, so I had to drive my self, and ds to the dr. where the ultrasound showed me the most aweful, hurtful, disappointing, tragic thing ever. A baby with no heartbeat. The dr was wonderful, he was very sweet, having been through our infertility problems with us for the last years. I had to schedule the d & c for that day or wait it out over the weekend. I knew I couldn't take care of my ds while waiting for my miscarriage to continue. After that happened, the dr asked if we wanted genetic testing done so we could tell "where the problem was". Turns out everything was fine genetically, basically, It was all my body's fault. Now talk about feeling like a failure. No one understood that part because we didn't share it with a lot of people.

I won't go on further about the procedure, as others have done an incredible job of describing it, emotionally as well as physically. So now we are waiting again for our other spirit child to join our family! And we are trying to hold our chins up when people ask us if we are "going to have any more" and trying to realize that we may not, and be okay with that. And we are trying to deal with the fact that EVERYONE we know is pregnant, or having babies, or just had babies. We are so joyful for them, but there is always that twinge at my heartstrings.

We are so incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful, kind, warm hearted child, I hope he'll have someone to share that with besides us.


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## gossamer (Feb 28, 2002)

I thought I would try to write out my story so everyone would know what an angel I had.
My DH and I were not trying to get pg, but God blessed us with a surprise. Early March I tested +. We were both so excited. I have always wanted to be a mommy. When I was a little girl, I never had make believe friends, I had make believe children. I felt like I had finally earned the pass code to the awesome club of motherhood and I was so honored and thrilled. I started buying cloth diapers, clothes, bottles etc. On May 12th or so I was diagnosed with Pregnancy Induced Hypertension (PIH), due to a very stressful situation at work. I was put on Aldomet twice a day. I went back in 2 weeks after being on the Aldomet and my blood pressures were still too high, around 140 over 100, so they upped my dosage to 3 times a day. On Friday, July 18th, I noticed that for the past 3 days my blood pressures were at least 160/110 and I had some edema, so I called the doctor's office. When they got back to me, they told me I needed to come in right away. My BP was 150/110. They had me lie on my left side in the dark for 15 minutes and my BP was still the same. My doctor wasn't there, but his officemate was and she said I was now a high-risk pregnancy and they were referring me to a different OB-Gyn and I was on bed rest for the weekend. I called the high risk OB-Gyn and they said I needed to see a Cardiologist first, so we made an appointment for the following Tuesday. We then called back the high risk OB-Gyn and they said they could see us August 6th. I hung up crying, here I had just been upgraded to high risk but I couldn't see a doctor for 2 weeks? Were they kidding? My husband called back and bullied the receptionist into giving me an appointment on Thursday after the cardiologist, but instead of seeing the doctor, we were going to see the Certified Nurse Midwife. Again, were they kidding? I had now been upgraded in my risk but downgraded in my care. On Sunday I started having a severe pain between my sternum and my diaphragm. Everyone told me it was probably constipation or gas. But it hurt to sit down, stand up, lie down, breath, cough, sneeze, eat or drink. I stayed on bed rest until Tuesday when I went to the cardiologist. They did an Echocardiogram and EKG and said my heart looked great. But my BP was now 170/115 so they put me on Pro-Cardia twice a day and Aldomet 4 times a day. They also told me to stay on bed rest until I saw the OB-Gyn and come back in a week. On Thursday we went to the OB-Gyn and saw the CNM. She said everything looked good and take some Tums for the gas and stay on bed rest until I see the cardiologist again. We went to go make an appointment with the doctor and they initially said they could work us in on August 14th. Again my husband kind of bullied the assistant and they gave us an appointment for the following Tuesday afternoon. Sunday I had 3 nosebleeds and my blood pressure was still high, 150/100. We called the cardiologists office Monday morning and Monday evening around 5:00 or so the nurse called us back and said take 2 Pro-cardia tablets twice a day and be sure to keep our appointment on Tuesday. So Tuesday morning on the 29th of July, we went back to the cardiologist. He did an EKG and examined me and said other than my blood pressure I was fine and he saw no evidence of pre-eclampsia. So continue taking 2 Pro-Cardia twice a day and 1 Aldomet 4 times a day. And just take some Tums for the gas pain. At 2:45 later that same day, we went to the OB-Gyn. She took some urine and checked my BP, came into the room and pressed on my abdomen and asked me if it hurt there. I said yes it does, very badly. She said I was dumping protein in my urine, 3+ and blood pressure was still out of control and she wanted us to check into the hospital for 24-hour observation. My husband asked for a worst-case scenario and she said "We would have to deliver the baby tonight." So my husband and I come home, pack our bags and catch a ride to the hospital. They do some blood tests and monitor the baby's heart rate. The doctor comes in and says your liver enzymes are elevated. We are waiting for one more test to come back. If it comes back abnormal, we will deliver this baby tonight. My platelet count came back and it was 51,000. 250,00 is normal. So they said they were going to deliver my baby tonight at only 24 1/2 weeks gestation. She only had a 65% chance of survival and they were going to do a vertical incision on my uterus because the baby was so small and because of that, I would never be able to labor and deliver for fear of my uterus rupturing. They wheeled me into the OR and at 10:21 p.m., my baby was born. After 1/2 an hour of trying to get her to breath on her own, they realized is was hopeless and they told my husband his daughter was not going to make it and they had baptized her Mary. For another 1/2 an hour our family members and friends took turns holding Mary and her Aunt Rose was holding her when her little heart finally stopped beating and her spirit flew to heaven. I was later wheeled into recovery and my husband had to tell me our daughter had died. I was able to hold her and rock her and even dress her in a gown the auxiliary provided. My husband and I gave her the middle name Rose in honor of her Aunt who was holding her when she died. I was later told I had developed a condition called HELLP syndrome and the only way to save my life was to deliver the baby. The abdominal pain I had been feeling was not gas or constipation, but my liver was enlarged and in danger of rupturing. My platelets were so low I was at risk of hemorrhaging to death or stroke. But I am sure all of you mamas know I would have gladly given my life for my daughters. The memorial service was beautiful. IF you have stayed with me this far, God Bless you and thank you for reading Mary Rose's story, for it is her courage and strength I want everyone to remember.
Gossamer


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## indiegirl (Apr 15, 2002)

Bump!


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## luvmy3boys (Sep 16, 2003)

deleted due to privacy/security concerns recently brought to my attention...however, if you want to know about my sweet angel please pm me


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## WarriorqueenBea (Oct 7, 2003)

I have three baby angles to share.

My first pregnancie was in May 2000. I was 20, and very uneducated about birth control, etc. I became pregnant. I was upset at first, but knew I wanted kids anyway, so soon became excited and planned to tell my then boyfriend on Father's Day. On Father's day, I awoke to bleeding, and thought that I had had a false positive. I didn't know I was misscarrying, even with the heavy bleeding and excruitiating pain. I stayed at work the whole time. I never saw a doctor. I didn't tell the father untill months after the fact. I didn't grieve the baby for a long, long time. Years later, I named the baby Sway. I feel that it was a girl.

My second loss was a still birth at 27 weeks. I had a very 'normal' pregnancy, only spotted once at 16 wks. The doctor noticed that the baby was small at an ultrasound, and so I ended up having ultrasounds every few weeks. The next ultrasound showed low amniotic fluid. I was referrd to an perinatologist, and they pretty much told me that there was no hope for my baby. She was too small to live if deliverd, and was not growing properly. I refused to accept this death sentence. I never gave up hope for my baby. My fience and I had planned her and loved her even before conception, we were not giving up. At 27 weeks, i started to have real bad headaches, that would not go away with just one tylenol. A few days later, I awoke, knowing that something was wrong. We went to the hospital, and they did an ultrasound, and our baby had no heartbeat. We opted to be induced, and five days of painfull labour later, I deliverd my daughter. She was only 11 inches, and just under 1lb. She was born late August, and buried September 4th. The funeral was horrible. The minister messed up, and I didn't even get to pick the music. I did hold my baby, and we named her Angelina Rose. I picked a blanket and bonnet for her. We have some pictures, but they are not very good. The hospital said that they would take some for me, and I trusted them. I couldn't do it myself. I couldn't even walk because of the epidural.

My last loss happened this August 2003 at 14 weeks. The baby died at 8 weeks, but my body kept on as if it were pregnant. I became very ill, and saw numerouse doctors trying to figure out what was wrong. Not once did they check the baby. I finally toldmy fience that I was going to pay the bills and went to the hospital. Seven hours of sitting in the waiting room crying hystericaly, and not one single person gave a care. I finally got in to a room, and the doc couldn't find a heartbeat, and he said he would 'see' if they could fit me in for an ultrasound, but that he doubted it. A nurse came in about 15min later and asked me if I had started to cramp and bleed yet. WTF? About half an hour later, another nurse came in and told me to drink up, I needed a full bladder. The ultrasound showed no heartbeat once again. I had to wait untill 6 pm to call my fience, as the cell phone didn't work untill then. The ER doc refused to give me a D&C and said that the baby would pass on it's own, despite the fact that it had not in almost 7 weeks. I was having severe headaches that no painkillers would numb.
I got the D&C on the 20th of August. Sadly, I do not know what happened to my baby's remains. I had always felt that the baby was a boy, so I named him Junior.
There is no hope left in me at this point. I want a child so much. Yet, it looksl ike I cannot have one.


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