Miscarriage

I know this website was supposed to be a positive place to share fun updates and inspiration. But I also want to be honest and not pretend like we’re perfect and everything is sunshine and roses all the time. I don’t like to pretend like I’m prefect. I know I’m not. I struggle with depression and anxiety. I don’t always have a clean home. I haven’t been physically able to clean for several weeks. (It’s killing me!) I don’t like to act smarter than I am. I was given advice about a previous blog post that I needed to appear more assertive about the facts and opinions I was sharing.

I only like pretend when my kiddo hands me a small box of tissues wanting me to talk to Grandma.

That being said, this has been one of the hardest weeks of my entire life.

In August, 2021, we found out we were expecting a second little baby in our family. I told Ryan I was pregnant by watching a specific episode of the TV show, Boy Meets World. I’ll link the segment here >> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bH8uGYo8MMs We had been trying for a few months to conceive, so it was really exciting to finally be expecting. It was a day or two before our 4th anniversary. We celebrated up in Bear Lake, Idaho, where Ryan’s family owns a cabin and had lots of fun enjoying each other’s company.

My mom and best friend, Jessica, were the first to know, even before Ryan. But we waited to tell his family until we were 7 weeks along and had our first ultrasound picture. I know it’s not advised to tell family until at least the end of the first trimester, but I was starting to show pretty badly. So we told everyone in Ryan’s family at Sunday dinner, a few days before the annual family reunion at the cabin.

The next day, I started spotting.

It freaked me out at first. I researched and obsessed over what could possibly be causing it. When I asked my OB-GYN about it at the ultrasound, she said it can be normal and to just watch it and let her know if it got any worse. Our baby had a strong, healthy heartbeat which was a massive relief after seeing blood. For odd reasons, however, I was told that our baby was a week behind in growth from what I’d calculated from my last period. This struck me as so weird because I was pretty on top of my cycle at the time and knew exactly when everything had taken place.

The next few days passed and we went to the family reunion in Bear Lake. The spotting continued, but I tried not to think anything of it until the last day of our vacation when the blood turned from brown to bright red.

I called my OB-GYN as fast as I could. They told me to take it easy that weekend until they could see me on Monday. I’d spent nearly the entire week lying in bed, doing what I considered “taking it easy.” I don’t do bedrest very well, but I tried my best under the circumstances.

Saturday, I couldn’t stand up without bleeding.

I was absolutely terrified. I still experienced symptoms of pregnancy, but I was bleeding. It didn’t make sense to me.

Sunday, I woke up with signs of infection and more blood. We went to the emergency room. They tried an abdominal ultrasound where they saw the baby, but not clearly enough. I went to the bathroom and felt something drop inside me. In the toilet was a tiny ball of tissue. Terror and dread overcame me and I felt sick to my stomach and dizzy. I didn’t want to believe that I’d just miscarried, so I told myself it wasn’t anything to be worried about.

When we did another ultrasound, baby was gone. My womb was empty and so was my heart.

The nurse, for some reason, showed me a before and after image. I don’t know why because it only made the grieving process harder. I didn’t want to look at that monitor showing my empty womb anymore and begged to go home. I didn’t want to do anything but cry. My little baby was gone. Flushed down a toilet.

The first thing I did after coming home from the hospital was take a shower, hoping that would help cleanse my body and heart of what’d just happened. Maybe it would make the experience go away. But then I passed the placenta. That was when it really sunk in. I’d lost my baby. I’d miscarried and the hopes I’d had for that little one were gone. My pregnancy was over. I felt like my life was too.

I turned to Heaven with tears in my eyes and said, “God, I know that You did this for my good because you’re good. I know You wouldn’t do this to me unless it would be good for me.” And I tried really hard to believe my own words.

Then, I remembered feeling my child’s spiritual presence in the room as we looked at the image of my empty womb. I remembered sensing the disappointment in my child at being sent back to Heaven. Most importantly, I remembered feeling the presence of my Savior in the room with us.

In our religion, we believe that there is life before and after this life on Earth.

This knowledge has been more comforting than any words could ever be. This experience has been unspeakably difficult. But I’m so grateful for my knowledge of the Plan my Father in Heaven has for me and my family. It has made me appreciate my little boy, Garrett, so much more.

I know that my child is safe with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.