One Month Later…

Life After Miscarriage

The last week of March wasn’t easy. I didn’t realize it until later, but since the month of February only has 28 days, the month of February as well as March fall on the exact same days of the week. For instance I had my ultrasound and was given the worst news of my life on Monday February 25th, and I had my D & C on Thursday February 28th. Since February has 28 days instead of 30 or 31, March 25th also fell on a Monday and March 28th also fell on a Thursday. I found this really interesting as I approached the one month mark of having my miscarriage. It almost felt like déja vu. The 25th of March wasn’t as bad as I expected. Sure I was sad and I reflected a lot on what had happen a month ago, but since I was in so much shock that day, I think that’s why it didn’t affect me as much. Thursday March 28th however, was rough to say the least.

I woke up that morning feeling the heaviness of fresh grieve once again. It was as if I was under a weighted blanket and I honestly did not have the strength to get up. I called in sick to my internship, and my coordinator understood. My husband was worried about me. He had to go to class and work, but he was hesitant to leave me alone. I told him I would be okay and I was just gonna get some rest.

I remember laying in bed and pulling out my phone. I started scrolling through social media pages, which I now know was a big mistake. Within minutes I saw two pregnancy announcements for babies who would be due in September and October…. I lost it. I laid in bed and sobbed. The pain, the grief, the sorrow it all flooded back as if the miscarriage had just happen yesterday. From that point on everything set me off. My arms ached again as I longed for my baby. I grew angry and started yelling at God again for taking my baby. I was also still lactating and it was becoming unbearable. Every time I cried, I would lactate. It was ridiculous. It was a constant reminder that I no longer had a baby. It wasn’t fair.


That afternoon I became very emotionally unstable. I decided to call my doctor. She had mentioned at my last appointment that if I am not doing well emotionally, or physically then I need to call her. When a nurse at the office answered I was already crying. I tried holding back my tears so she could understand me. I told her how frustrated I was that I had been lactating for over three weeks. I also explained to her that my surgeon had told me to give the office a call if I wasn’t doing well… and I obviously wasn’t. She asked me if I wanted to speak with a social worker. I paused and said “Yeah, it would have been nice if you had offered that to me a month ago!” I probably shouldn’t have yelled at her, but I was so frustrated. I was still angry the social worker was too busy to see me the day of my surgery. I had so much support when I was pregnant, but once I miscarried, I slowly felt the support dwindle away. She ended up transferring me. I left a message for the social worker stating I wanted to talk, I wasn’t doing well and I would like some resources to help me cope through my miscarriage. When I hung up the phone, I felt like nothing was accomplished. All I did really was cry and leave a message.

After that intense meltdown on the phone with the nurse, I took a nap. I was emotionally drained. When I woke up about an hour later I got a text from my best friend. I unlocked my phone and read it. I instantly got a pit in my stomach and tears started to well up in my eyes again. My best friend was 5 weeks pregnant… and I started crying again. Part of me wanted to fake it and say congratulations, but since I was so unstable I knew it wasn’t a good idea. I had already yelled at the nurse over the phone, I didn’t also want to yell at my best friend. This was a happy thing, and I didn’t want to be selfish and make it all about me. So, I decided not to respond.

I ended up calling my mom and crying to her, as well as reaching out to my online support group. I talked about how challenging it is to see pregnancy announcements. On the one hand I wanted to be happy for them, but I wasn’t…. I was jealous. I was suppose to be pregnant! I was suppose to be showing and getting congratulated. Secondly, it’s challenging because I instantly had anxiety for everyone else who was pregnant. What happen to me was awful, and I wouldn’t ever wish it on anyone else. Even though I was jealous and angry, I still prayed for those women and that their babies would be okay. After this emotional day of seeing three different pregnancy announcements, and the fact that it landed on one month since my surgery; I decided to unfollow some of the pregnant and young moms on social media. It wasn’t going to be forever, but just for the meantime until I reached a place where I could handle it better.

That evening I went to dinner at the dining hall with Reaghan. I wasn’t hungry for anything except ice cream. I ate three bowls of it. I had no shame. I needed comfort food that day. Reaghan was so supportive and such a good listener as I talked, cried and stuffed my face with ice cream. After being quiet for a moment I remember telling her “I miss my baby.” as I silently cried over my ice cream. She said with compassion “I know… and it’s okay to be sad Kaylee. It’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling” she knew exactly what I needed to hear.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” – Matthew 5:4

Cutting Ties

Life After Miscarriage

The interesting thing about trauma, is we lose control. An absolute terrible event occurs and we are powerless with no way to stop it. Trauma effects everyone differently depending on what the event is and how we as people react. My personal trauma of suffering a miscarriage affected me in a very emotional way. I naturally am an emotional person. I am very in touch with my feelings. So, when something awful happens in my life I may cry, I may get depressed, I may get angry and I may just shut down. After I shared my story of my miscarriage, many people reached out to me. I was very thankful for their compassion, but I didn’t really have much to say in return… except thank you. This could have come off to people as stand offish, but honestly that was never my intention.

The day I lost the baby, I told one of my friends. This friend was very sad and sorry for our loss. Throughout the evening she kept asking me questions about my pregnancy. Questions that I had either already told her or didn’t really think were important to talk about that day. She asked me questions like Were you trying? Did you use protection? Were you on birth control? How did you get pregnant? It was question after question. I was still in a state of shock and was beginning to get frustrated. Why was she interrogating me with questions? I didn’t owe her anything. I’m sure she probably had good intentions, but it didn’t help. It hurt. After so many questions, I couldn’t take it anymore, I felt like through all the questions she was trying to imply either the miscarriage is my fault because I accidentally got pregnant or that I shouldn’t be sad I lost my baby because it was an unplanned pregnancy. I finally said “Why’s it matter now, my baby’s dead!” She apologized and after that we didn’t talk.

A month went by and I didn’t hear from her. I get that I yelled at her but I thought it was weird and somewhat hurtful she didn’t bother to check in on me. And who knows, maybe she did and I just never got the messages. She reached out to me again a month later and said she wanted to hang out. I was still really angry about our previous conversation and still wasn’t in a good place. We started fighting and I realized we were just going to continue to go back and forth. She herself wasn’t in a good place either for other personal reasons. So, even though it wasn’t easy, I made the hard decision of putting our friendship on hold. I told her, right now I did not want to be friends, and I still to this day think it was the best decision for our emotional and mental health.

Part of the reason I made this decision is because the blind can’t lead the blind. Two depressed people can’t take care of each other. We would end up destroying each other. Neither one of us had the strength to hold each other up. As much as I wanted to remain friends, I could feel myself resent her the more we would talk. I wanted to stop the bolder of my crazy emotions before I said something I regretted. Maybe in time we will be friends again, but for now I am going to work on myself so I remember the person I once was, let go of what I need to let go and take control of what I need to get a hold of.

Seeking Counseling

Life After Miscarriage

Last October I started seeing a counselor at my university. I decided to start seeking a counselor to help me get a handle on my anxiety as well as getting help in dealing with the daily struggles of college. In the spring semester I didn’t have any appointments scheduled at the beginning. In December my counselor and I decided I was on the right track, but if I ever needed to come back I could always make an appointment. When I found out I was pregnant, I realized I should definitely make an appointment as this was an added stress to my life… in a good way. Unfortunately, due to the many snow days and OB appointments, I didn’t actually get in to see my counselor until I was 10 weeks. At that appointment I was stressed but so excited. My counselor helped me talk things out.


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After I had my miscarriage, I didn’t get in to see my counselor until about three weeks after. I hardly ever cry in counseling. It’s almost like I think it’s more important to talk since I have the opportunity so I just don’t feel like I need to. However, at the appointment after my miscarriage I sat in silence for awhile. I stared at my counselor. I wanted to speak but I couldn’t. My mouth wasn’t working. After ten minutes I ended up finally saying “I had my 11 week ultrasound and there was no heartbeat. My baby died” and that was it. I cried for the rest of the hour long session. I was able to say a few sentences here and there, but overall I just cried.

From that point on I have had a weekly appointment with my counselor. She has been incredibly helpful. I absolutely love counseling and would recommend it to anyone. I realize there’s a lot of stigma and shame when it comes to counseling, but honesty I think it’s just nice to word vomit all my problems, and someone is obligated to listen. I am also someone who loves hearing about different strategies and coping skills, however I am usually too stubborn to try them. For example, I have signed up for a yoga class three times… and still have yet to go. Regardless, I know I still have things I need to work on and I’m so thankful I am able to get the help I need.

The Birthstone Ring

Miscarriage

On Saturday March 16th, I was still doing my best to rest and recover from surgery. By now I had noticed a drastic drop in my pregnancy symptoms including losing my strong sense of smell and my gagging reflex. I still felt bloated and fatigued but not nearly as much as before. On this day, I remember reading posts on my online support group. I remember hearing about how angel mommies find different ways to remember their babies who have gone to Heaven. In a poem I had read online, it had mentioned how a mom had had a ring of her baby’s birthstone on her hand. This was a symbol of two things. 1) the birthstone represented the month the baby was born and or was called home and 2) the momma had the ring on her finger to symbolize her baby holding her hand. I loved this idea! I told Charles what I read and he thought it was neat too. In fact, with him being the amazing husband he is, he decided to take me to the jewelry store to pick out a ring. ❤️

On the way to the store we tried to decide what birthstone I would want for my ring. Should we choose sapphire since my due date was in September or should we choose amethyst since we lost our baby in February? We pondered this on the car ride there and ended up deciding on February. We chose February because that was the month everything happen. That was the month I had both my ultrasounds as well as my D & C . It was also the month my morning sickness was the worst and we decided on the name Mackenzie. I also took into consideration that once I have my ring, I would not only be reminded of Mackenzie but also when I was pregnant, which was for the whole month of February.

When we got to the jewelry store we asked if we could see birthstone rings for the month of February. The cashier took us over to the counter where they kept the rings. Charles and I could both tell she didn’t seem to be in a good mood. She showed us the four different options for the amethyst birthstone.

“Is this ring for you?” The cashier asked me.

“Yes, but it’s not my birthstone… but I will be wearing it. Can I try on that one.” I said pointing to the ring with three hearts.

“So, it’s not for you.” She said looking confused, and handing me the ring to try on. I was conflicted on if I wanted to tell her it was in memory of our baby. I didn’t know if I was prepared for her reaction… what ever it was. She kept staring at me as if she wanted an answer. I tried on the ring.

“It’s for our baby.” I said. She stared at me.

“Oh, so you need a kids size ring?” She really didn’t understand and I was starting to get frustrated.

“No, it’s in memory of our baby. We had a miscarriage in February.” I really didn’t want to share this much with a stranger, especially since I was still sensitive about the topic. But, I still felt obligated to give it to her.

“Oh, well… you’re young you’ll have more.” She said. She had absolutely no emotion. No compassion. I looked at my husband with hurt and rage in my eyes. Did she really just say that to me? He looked back at me with empathy as if trying to say I know you really want to slap her, but please don’t do it. “So you were due in November?” She asked as if not sure what to say.

“I was due in September.” I didn’t look at her. I was done with this conversation. I was done talking to her. I was really hurt by what she said. I told Charles I wanted the ring I had tried on and we bought it. The cashier tried to get me to sign up for a credit card. I sternly told her no and walked away. I was done.

When we got to the car I cried. I cried with happiness because I got my ring but I also cried with sadness and anger by what she said. It was so hurtful. I think what made it hurt the worst is the fact that she acted like she did nothing wrong. It broke my heart. Why would you say that to someone? You don’t know if I will ever be able to have another kid, and also if you don’t know what to say when another human tells you something sad, at the very least try and be humane and say I’m sorry.

Regardless of the fact that the cashier hurt my feelings that day, I was very happy and thankful for my ring. It really meant a lot to me that Charles wanted to get one for me. It’s not even the fact that he bought me jewelry, but it’s the fact that he was trying to be there for me and understand what I was going through.

The Effects of Miscarriage on My Marriage

Miscarriage

After Charles returned from Washington D.C. and I returned home… things were different. Since I hadn’t seen Charles since the day before my procedure, I guess I didn’t really know what to do or say. Sure, we had talked on the phone and stuff… but it still seemed awkward to talk in person after something so tragic happened.

I tried talking to him like we used to, but it wasn’t working. I wasn’t the same person I was. In fact I didn’t know who I was. I was confused, lost and broken. This some how made me want to put a wall up between me and my husband. This may have been because I was still trying to protect him, or it may have been because I somehow resented him for going on a trip that I told him to go on… who knows.

Through a few days of tip toeing around each other, awkwardness and short tempers, we finally hit our breaking point. We fought. It was tension that had been boiling for awhile. It was pretty intense and a level of fighting we hadn’t had in a long time. Despite the fact it was intense and stressful, it was necessary. We needed that fight. That fight helped us move forward.

I had come to a point that I didn’t want to ask for what I needed, I just wanted Charles to know what I needed. What was really cruel was the fact that Charles would try to help and be there for me, and I would constantly shoot him down if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted or needed at the time. Looking back, I feel absolutely terrible. That wasn’t fair to Charles. In the end, I had to swallow my pride and ask for what I needed. It wasn’t easy but in the end it helped both our mental health and our marriage.

The Hurtful Things People Say… and What NOT to Say After a Woman has a Miscarriage

Miscarriage, Resources

When Charles and I shared the news with people that we had lost our baby, we had a variety of many different reactions. A majority of people meant well, however that didn’t make their words hurt any less. Miscarriage is a trauma, and unfortunately our society doesn’t fully understand how to help people who have endured trauma. Now, I’m no expert…. but I would like to share with you my experience of things people said to me and what not to say to a woman or couple who have experienced a miscarriage.

1. Trying to Make Them Feel Better…”It will be okay.” “It happen for a reason.”

Many, many, many people told me this. I wouldn’t necessarily consider this phrase bad as much as unhelpful. Yes, it is true that after a traumatic event happens, with time and healing, life goes on and things are somewhat “okay”, However, if someone is in shock, crisis, depressed or unstable…. saying this phrase can make them feel that their situation doesn’t matter, isn’t a big deal or they are overreacting. I never found this phrase helpful, and it only made me angry instead of making me feel better.

2. You’re Not Too Old to Try Again… “You’re young… you’ll have more.”

A cashier at a store said this to me when my husband was buying me a gift in remembrance of our baby. For the record… being young doesn’t not necessarily mean you’ll be able to have more kids, and secondly being young does not make it hurt any less.

3. Asking Too Many Questions and Over Analyzing… “Were you trying?” “Was it a planned pregnancy?” “How did you get pregnant?”

It’s okay to want to help a friend and know information, however take your cues from the other person. More often than not if someone is disclosing that they’ve had a miscarriage they are looking for comfort and support, not for you to analyze them and find a reason why. When it comes to miscarriage, we often never find a reason why. It takes a lot of trust for people to open up and share something very personal with another person.

4. Trying to be Positive… “Stop wallowing.” “It could be worse.” “Cheer up” “Don’t be sad.” “Just be happy already.” “It’s not that bad.”

When someone is in the stages of grief, especially in shock, anger, and depression it’s extremely difficult to be happy. So many women who have suffered a miscarriage feel like their world just came crashing down. Not only did their baby die, but so did all the dreams they had for that baby. So, it’s okay for them to be sad. It’s okay for them to not be okay for awhile. I understand it’s hard to see someone so incredibly heartbroken, but by telling someone not to be sad, is not helpful and may also hinder their healing process.

5. “I understand, my Grandma died.”

I know we may mean well by saying we understand because we’ve lost someone too. However, unless you’ve actually experienced pregnancy loss, or the death of a child, we won’t truly understand. When a woman has a miscarriage, she is not only grieving over the baby she lost, but she is also often blaming herself and her body for failing her. It’s a very complex type of grief. It’s also important to keep in mind that every individual’s situation is different. Even if you and someone else you know has had a miscarriage… it is their own individual loss and individual story.

6. Rushing Them to Get Over the Loss… “When can you start trying again?” “When are you going to have more kids?”

It’s not your place to ask these questions, especially if a miscarriage recently happen. In my personal experience, this is one of the last questions I wanted to be asked. I was grieving for my baby. Allow others to do the same.

7. At least…. “You had a miscarriage… at least you know you can get pregnant.” “At least you only had one miscarriage.” “At least the baby died early so you didn’t have time to bond with them that long.” “At least you weren’t that far along.” “At least it wasn’t a planned pregnancy.” “At least you already have a baby.” “At least it happen quick.”

This is my personal favorite!… that was sarcasm if you couldn’t tell. After having a miscarriage I could not believe how many people use this phrase to try and cheer people up, and not just with miscarriage but pretty much with any bad and uncomfortable situation. I talked about this phrase with my counselor. She explained to me that even though people have good intentions, they don’t realize how hurtful a phrase starting with the words at least really is. The reason people use it is 1) because it’s commonly used, and 2) because when an individual hears of a sad, terrible, uncomfortable event or situation they too feel uncomfortable. As humans we don’t like feeling uncomfortable, and will often try and not stay in that situation. We often do this by looking at silver-linings and the bright side of things. This seems like a good idea to us, because we are turning a sad conversation into something pleasant and taking the uncomfortableness off of us. Good idea right?… Wrong! By doing this, we are ultimately disregarding someone’s feelings and what they have gone through, and that’s not fair. If they are trusting us to hear something very personal about themselves, then instead of feeling uncomfortable and avoiding it, we should just listen.

8. Reactions and Being Over Emotional

It’s understandable that when hearing of something sad and heartbreaking such as a miscarriage, we might be sad for that person. However, we shouldn’t be overly sad, and dramatic for that person and their situation. What I mean is, if someone tells you they have had a miscarriage, don’t be hysterical and more upset than they are. They are the ones that lost the baby, not you. Don’t make it about you.


Again, I’m not a professional but I am 1 in 4 women who have experienced a miscarriage. I am a woman and angel mommy who was hurt by many of these phrases. This is just my personal advice I’d like to offer to others.

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Why?

Miscarriage

I remember being rolled to the recovery room. I remember not feeling any physical pain. I remember thinking the lights were way too bright. I remember feeling really confused, not sure where I was or why I felt so incredibly out of it. Then… I remembered everything.

Bargaining

I felt the weight of my broken heart throughout my entire body. My baby was gone… spiritually, emotionally, mentally and now physically. She was gone forever. I began crying, screaming, and yelling. In my head I didn’t think I was that loud, but apparently I was because the people in recovery continuously told me I was being too loud. I felt my nurses trying to comfort me by holding my hand and rubbing my arm. I remember a nurse trying to have me take some pills and a sip of water. I think the pills were for anxiety. I remember I would hear a beeping noise every time I would hold my breath, my nurses would remind me to breathe.

“Why God Why!? God killed my baby! God took her away!” I continued thrashing in the bed. I was so overcome by emotion and heartbreak. “God how could you do this to me!? I want my baby! I want Mackenzie! I hate you God! How could you do this to me!? Oh Mackenzie!” I continued screaming this in recovery. I remember hearing the nurses talk about bringing my mom back.

When my mom came back, I was still a heart broken mess. My mom did her best to calm me down. I know it was hard for her to see me like that. My mom ended up giving me my bear and I held on to it tight. My arms ached. I needed something to hold. I came into the hospital pregnant, but I didn’t get to leave the hospital with a baby.

“Why? Why did my baby have to die? What did I do wrong? I’m her mom, I should have known!” I was entering in the stage of bargaining. I pleaded with God and couldn’t fathom why God chose to take my baby. As I pleaded with God, a nurse came over to me. She told me not to do this to myself. She said not to beat myself up and go down this dark road. She told me I did nothing wrong. It wasn’t fair. There’s so many moms in the world who don’t take care of their babies, and their babies live and have rough lives. Where as I would have done anything to be the best mom I could be and take care of my baby. It wasn’t fair.

Eventually, the drugs kicked in and I settled down. I ended up staying in recovery 2 hours longer than expected because I was so emotionally unstable. My nurses and parents got me ready and took me home. Everything from that day after this point is a blur. I’m assuming I just slept the rest of the day but I don’t know for sure. All I know is that by the end of the day, I was no longer pregnant and I was heartbroken.

“I have heard your prayers and seen your fears; I will heal you.” – 2 Kings 20:5

Saying Goodbye…

Miscarriage

The minute I arrived at the hospital on Thursday February 28th, I started to cry. It was going to be a long day. When we walked into the building I called Charles. He was at the airport and at a lost for words. He so badly wanted to be here for me, but also wanted to respect my wishes by going on his trip. He was very gentle and comforted me over the phone as best he could. I tried my best to be strong for him. I didn’t want him to beat himself up for going on the trip even though I told him to go.

Since we arrived to the hospital early, my parents decided to go downstairs to the cafeteria to eat breakfast. I wasn’t allowed to eat since midnight the night before. I wasn’t hungry anyway. While in the cafeteria, I sat at the table waiting for Alli. She promised she would come visit me on her way to work before my procedure. I sat there snuggling my quilt trying to keep it together. I felt my tears start to well up again in my eyes. When I looked up I saw Alli walking towards me. Her face of sadness and compassion told me it was safe to fall apart. I stood up and ran over to Alli. I hugged her and began to sob. I felt my body collapse into her embrace. I could feel Alli crying too. She was heartbroken. We stood there in the middle of the cafeteria of the hospital sobbing. Some might say it was an inappropriate place to fall apart. But considering it was a hospital, I’m sure they see it all the time. In that moment, I didn’t care who might be staring or judging us. All I cared about is that my friend was here. She was the first person to know I was pregnant and she had been a huge support for me since day one. I’m so glad she came.


When I went to the Out Patient Surgery Department they got me registered and asked me for a urine sample. I asked them why they would need it. I mean…. they already knew I was pregnant. I had no energy to argue with them so I did what they said. Later a nurse named Sara came back to the waiting room to help me get prepped. She apologized that they made me give a urine sample. The system does not allow them to see what surgery I am scheduled for, therefore they didn’t know I was pregnant.

She brought me back to a small pre-op room. She asked me questions and we talked about medications and standard health information. I told her that I had a lot of questions to ask my doctor about what to expect following the D & C. Sara told me she was happy to answer any questions I may have. I asked all my questions of anything from a decrease in pregnancy symptoms, to pain, to bleeding to mental health. She was very open and honest in answering all of my questions. She also disclosed to me that she could only share from her own experience as she had suffered from 5 miscarriages. When she told me this, my heart broke for her. How are you still standing? I thought. Before leaving she saw I began to cry as I knew my procedure was quickly approaching. She looked at me and said “I know Sweetie… I know.” She then opened her arms and gave me a hug. Sara was absolutely amazing, and to this day I feel so blessed that God allowed me to meet her before my procedure.

My mom helped me undress and get into my hospital gown. I laid on the bed and covered up with a blanket. More surgical nurses and techs came in to ask me questions, start my IV and prepare me for my procedure. Alli and my dad joined us in the room about an hour and a half before I had to go back to surgery. The room was very small and crowded, but it was comforting knowing they were all there. At about 11:30am Charles texted me and told me his plane landed. I was able to sigh with relief. I was very stressed and emotional with the procedure, but knowing that Charles had landed safely before my procedure made me feel a lot better. My anesthesiologist and surgeon came into the room. They both asked me questions and prepared me for the procedure. I had peace and good vibes from both of them. I knew anything could go wrong, but I was confident I was in good hands.


My surgery was pushed back to 12:30pm. I was told that the social worker was too busy to come see me but I was still able to visit with the Chaplin. When the Chaplin came in I was kind of stunned. He looked just like my husband! The only real difference was his accent and long beard. It was so uncanny. The Chaplin introduced himself to my parents, Alli and I. He gave me some sympathy cards, a book about miscarriage, and a praying bear. He talked with me about my story, our baby’s name and my faith. He led my family in prayer, and prayed over me that I would be safe through the surgery. He prayed that the doctors would have wisdom during the procedure and that I would be able to find God again through this grief and sadness. As he continued praying my dad suddenly burst into tears. He had sadness in his face since my ultrasound, but I had yet to see him cry. Maybe he was trying to be strong for me. He cried hard, and I could tell he was trying to fight it. He held my hand. It broke my heart but also gave me joy. He loved this baby too.

After the prayer the Chaplin left and Alli left for work. The nurses came in and said it was time to say good bye to mom and dad. I squeezed my prayer bear one more time and handed it to my mom. My parents both kissed me on the head and started to cry. I tried to be brave and told them I was gonna be fine. I felt the surgical people pull my hair into a hair net and put booties on my feet, I started to panic as my parents walked away. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to not be pregnant anymore. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Just then it all hit me. The drugs… the wonderful, feels like you’re flying and floating on a cloud drugs. I wasn’t panicked anymore. I felt GREAT!

They rolled me to the operating room. I remember thinking my arm hurt. It was the arm with my IV. I kept saying something to the nurse and they kept trying to adjust it. When I got to the room I had to move onto the table. I laid down and tried to relax. Then I felt my other arm hurt. They kept asking me what hurts. Turns out it was just the blood pressure cuff. Then my calves tickled. I began giggling. I was loopy. I remember my surgeon getting concerned. I tried telling her something was tickling my calves. She told me it was the compressor that helps you not to get blood clots. That’s a relief. I looked up at the ceiling and realized it was all about to change. When I wake up I won’t be pregnant. This gave me sadness. I prayed to God one more time. Please God, forgive me of my sins and keep me safe in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Then I was out.

The Hours Leading Up to My Procedure…

Miscarriage

On our way home from the hospital, we stopped at the pharmacy to get my pain med prescription filled. Despite the fact I had had a shot for my pain less the three hours prior, I was still in some pain and discomfort. It wasn’t as bad sitting down, but if I had to stand for more than a few minutes, the pain was intense. I don’t remember much, but apparently I got very frustrated with the pharmacist. They tried telling me they didn’t accept my insurance, when in reality I had straight Medicaid at the time and everybody accepted straight Medicaid. Not only that, but I had just picked up meds for my husband a few days earlier. We have the exact same insurance and there was no issue. According to my dad, he could tell I was in a lot of pain as I leaned on the counter at the pharmacy. My Dad said I was very close to climbing over the counter and strangling the people at the pharmacy because they kept arguing with me… but I didn’t. We ended up going to a different pharmacy and had absolutely no problem. Thank goodness.


When we got back to my parents house, my mom pulled me aside and hugged me. It’s almost like she knew I needed that hug before I even knew to ask for it. She’s a really good mom. “You need to embrace this baby. Spend some time by yourself with just you and baby. Talk to her. Because tomorrow… you are going to feel so empty when she’s gone.” She said hugging me and holding me tight. I sobbed all over her shoulder. I did not want to do this. I didn’t want to say goodbye to my baby. I didn’t want to stop being pregnant. I didn’t want to accept the fact that she was gone. Charles came over in the afternoon. He brought me flowers that were sent from Andrea and Alli.

That evening around 6pm, I went into the bedroom I was staying in and closed the door. I sat on the bed and stared at the wall. I was snuggled in many layers of blankets and gripped Mackenzie’s quilt and held it in my arms. As I sat there, I realized that my mom was right. I was spinning out of control and trying to avoid the loss and pain that was currently consuming my life. I tried just to breathe. As I started to calm myself down I began to feel it. All the emotions of pain and sadness came to the surface. My baby died. I had a miscarriage. No. No! This wasn’t happening! Why did she die!? Why did she have to go? For two hours I sat in that dark bedroom crying over my baby. I gripped my belly wishing so much that I didn’t have to say goodbye. I would have given ANYTHING for this not to be real. My mom came in to check on me. She comforted me. In many ways I felt better. The physical pressure of needing to cry was gone but the pain and sadness continued. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to say goodbye.


The morning of my surgery I woke up confused. I actually got more than three hours of sleep and felt slightly rested. It believe it was due to the amount of crying I did before falling asleep and the pain meds I was on. I called Charles when I was more awake. It was around 5am and I needed to be at the hospital at 9am. Before the miscarriage and everything had happen, Charles was offered the opportunity to go to Washington D.C. for a conference. Since we had already payed for the trip, I told Charles he should still go. As hard as it may be for him not to be here, I still wanted him to go and try and enjoy himself. I felt that everything had been taken away from me, so in my effort to protect Charles I still wanted him to go on his trip. When I called Charles he was getting ready to leave for the airport. I don’t really remember the conversation but I know we were both pretty emotional. After hanging up, I regretted telling him to go on his trip. I wanted him here, but it was too late.

Before leaving for the hospital I took my final pregnancy bump pictures. Taking the pictures was something I needed to do, but it also broke my heart because I knew it would be for the last time. 💔

“Grief is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.” – Jamie Anderson

A Trip to the Emergency Room

Miscarriage

The night of February 26th, I was absolutely restless. I tossed and turned in bed until about 12:30am. I finally got up and started pacing. I was still staying with my parents. My dad woke up when he heard me awake pacing throughout the house. My dad kept me company and talked to me throughout the night. My cramps kept getting worse the more my anxiety increased.

Around 3am I felt the need for comfort. Food and my dad’s company wasn’t quite meeting my needs. Honestly, I wasn’t going to be okay no matter what I did. I wanted my baby to be okay, but she wasn’t. I went down to my parents basement and found the garbage bags full of baby items that we had packed away two days ago. I dug through them in the dark until I found what I was looking for. I started to get frustrated and almost give up… and then I found it. I found Mackenzie’s quilt. The quilt that Alli made for her. The very first gift that Mackenzie received, but would never be able to use. I pulled the quilt out of the bag and hugged it tight. This is exactly what I needed, something to hold.

I headed back upstairs with the quilt in hand. I rested in the recliner chair in the living room and watched Jimmy Carson with my dad. Ever since I had received the news of our baby at the ultrasound, my arms ached. They ached and felt like I had recently carried a ton of bricks. I wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of grief or what exactly, so I did a little research. Apparently, some women experience pain and ache in their arms after a miscarriage. This is because of the psychological longing of wanting to hold their baby. This information gave me comfort. I wasn’t crazy. I was grieving a longing for my baby. Holding the quilt helped immensely. It wasn’t my baby, but it was a tangible item that gave me comfort.

By 5am I was absolutely miserable. My dad had given me 800 milligrams of ibuprofen and I was still in a boat load of pain. It hurt to sit. It hurt to lay down. It hurt to stand, and it hurt to walk. My cramps were intense and at least at a 8 on the pain scale. Every time I went to the bathroom I feared there would be blood, but there wasn’t. By 5:30am my gut told me to go to the ER. When I had scheduled my surgery the nurse said if my cramps became too painful or I was bleeding uncontrollably then I needed to be seen. So, as my dad got the car ready, I woke up my mom and we headed to the hospital. I called Charles on the way, and scared him out of his sleep. I felt kind of bad. He had two midterms that morning and I didn’t want to be selfish… but I needed him.


My trip to the ER is pretty fuzzy. I remember Charles meeting us there. I remember him holding my hand. I know I had a pelvic exam done and they said my cervix wasn’t dilating yet. I remember it was painful. I got a shot in the arm for my pain and it made me incredibly loopy. I remember the PA talking to me and telling me I was going to have my surgery tomorrow as scheduled. I also saw an ER doctor. He prescribed me Norco for my pain. He told me “Normally, it’s not safe to take when you are pregnant, but since you are not choosing to continue the pregnancy, it’s the best option.” His words hurt me. I wasn’t choosing to go forward with the pregnancy. Excuse me? I didn’t have a choice in any of this.

Even though it’s all a blur, the biggest thing that sticks out in my mind about the ER visit is prayer. I was furious with God. I had developed a hatred for Him and how He took away my baby… but at the same time I needed him. I was scared. I didn’t want to live this life but also didn’t want this pain anymore. I wanted God to either kill me or get me through because I couldn’t do this on my own. My faith was shaken but it wasn’t gone completely. I needed God to get me through this because I felt literally everything slipping out of my control.

The Worst Pain

Miscarriage

I hoped and prayed I would never have to go through this.

The pain I’ve experienced in the past two days has been hell.

A miscarriage and losing a child is something I would never wish.

There are moments I try holding my head up, acting like all is well.

And then there are moments, I can’t even get out of bed.

I cry in silence and I cry amidst a crowd.

People try to help, but I usually hate the words they’ve said

Sometimes I can’t control my emotions and I end up screaming out loud.

Or I suffer in silence as the pain becomes unbearable.

What is Grief?

Miscarriage

Grief…. Grief is a season we enter into when someone dies. Depending on the relationship with that individual, how they died and when they died will often affect our process of grief. According to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross there are 5 stages of grief.

Denial – this is the moment when you receive the news that your love one is gone and you can’t believe it. Your mind refuses to believe it. You live in disbelief anywhere from a few minutes to a few days (Kubler – Ross, 2019). I experienced denial when I received the news that my baby had died. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to imagine a future without her. I didn’t want to let go of the dreams I had for her.

Anger – this is the moment you start to understand and realize what has happen. You grow angry. Bitter. Hurt (Kubler – Ross, 2019). I felt this way between the days of my ultrasound and surgery, as well as days after. I was so angry. I was angry at myself. I was angry at my doctors. I was angry at my husband. I was even angry at God. I was angry that my baby died.

Bargaining – this is the moment you start to ask the “what if?” and “why?” questions. It’s when we start to wonder and even believe their had to have been something we could have done differently (Kubler – Ross, 2019). I was in this stage for awhile. Daily, I would ask myself why did my baby have to die? Why didn’t I see this coming? What did I do to deserve this? I’m her mom, why didn’t I know she was gone? I should have known. I would have given anything to change what was and to have my baby be alive and okay.

Depression – this is a stage you can enter into over and over again. This stage can last for months or even years on end (Kubler – Ross, 2019). Days after my surgery I bounced back and forth between stages, but I mostly lived in the depression stage. I remember lying in bed for days, sobbing and unable to move. The sadness was too much.

Acceptance – this is typically the last stage of grief and we usually enter this stage weeks, months or even years after already going through the other stages. This is the moment that we aren’t necessarily okay that a love one is gone, but rather we accept this is our new reality and understand that our loved one is no longer with us (Kubler – Ross, 2019). As I write this today, I believe I am slowly coming out of depression and entering into the acceptance stage. As I take the opportunity to write and work on myself, I have come to realize that as heavy as my grief can be, life goes on. I will always miss my baby, but I am still alive and here to do good work in honor of her.

One thing to remember about the 5 stages of grief is that not everyone experiences them in this order. Some people experience denial and depression first, while someone else may experience anger and bargaining first. It is also helpful to remember that these five stages are a cycle. Almost everyone who is living in grief will enter each stage at some point and they may enter them many times before finding acceptance.

There is no set time limit on grief. Everyone grieves in their own way and in their own time. For me personally, I believe I am taking longer to grieve more than some other angel mommies. I also feel that I am more public with my grief… by writing a blog and sharing my story. Not only does this help me talk about Mackenzie but it also helps me not feel so alone.

“The only person who gets to decide what grief looks like, is the person experiencing it.” – Megan Devine


If you are interested in learning more about the five stages of grief, I have provided a link below.

https://grief.com/the-five-stages-of-grief/