I turned 43 the day after Thanksgiving.
Three days later I received confirmation that I was pregnant!
I, in my advanced maternal age, was actually pregnant, after two IVF attempts in 2014.
It was a miracle and I vowed to celebrate every second.
After being released from my IVF Doctor’s care the week before, I went in for a 9-week monitoring appointment, with 5 children in tow. It was an unusually long wait and in the back of mind I had a nagging feeling that this wasn’t going to be a good appointment.
When the Ultrasound Tech started her examination I knew immediately something was wrong. I could see it on her face. Yet she continued asking me questions about Christmas and I continued to pretend nothing was wrong and answer them. Finally, she removed the probe and told me our baby had stopped growing and no longer had a heart beat.
Our baby had died on New Years Day.
In shock I left the exam room, gathered the children and drove home. Tears pouring down my face. It felt surreal.
How do you hear your baby’s heart beat, twice, and then suddenly there is no longer a heart beat?
The next day, at was to be my first OBGYN consultation with a new Doctor, I found myself scheduling a D&C. I had originally had a list of 8 questions for him concerning my pregnancy and delivery and now I had only two questions: When could they schedule the D&C and how long would it take to get back the pathology report?
A confirmation ultrasound (more for my peace of mind than anything) was scheduled for the next day with the D&C a few hours later. I went home and simply cried.
The next morning we loaded up the kids and headed to the ultrasound appointment. Bringing them wasn’t ideal but we didn’t have anyone to watch them that morning.
While we were sitting in the waiting room our 6-year leaned over and said, “Mom, don’t forget to have them check for the baby’s heartbeat again.”
The night before she had pondered the possibility of our baby’s heartbeat suddenly beginning again.
I wanted nothing more than to give her that hope. I wanted nothing more than to believe that was possible. But I knew it wasn’t and I knew I was the parent.
“I’m sorry honey. That’s not going to happen and you need to know that.” I said.
The tears welled up in her eyes and she began to read her children’s bible, refusing to look me in the eye.
When the ultrasound tech came to get me I could tell that I had just ruined her morning. Because really, who wants to start off the day by confirming to someone that their baby is dead?
Although she looked extremely uncomfortable, she was kind and accommodating when I told her I wanted to see everything she was seeing. She turned on a monitor on the wall for me. I had not been allowed to see anything at the monitoring center and I was desperate to get a final look at our baby and an ultrasound picture.
When it was time to go to the surgery center a friend graciously came over to watch our children so that my husband and I could do this difficult thing alone. Our grief filled the car and enveloped us. Neither of us spoke.
I brought a custom hospital gown with me to the surgery center. It had all the snaps and ties of a traditional hospital gown but with softer and more attractive fabric. Some women going through IVF choose to wear these custom gowns for their egg retrieval and transfer procedures, as good luck. If your cycle works you have the added benefit of wearing your now ‘lucky gown’ when you deliver your baby. While I had bought my gown with that intention, I never wore it during my cycle procedures. It felt too superstitious and I was trying to walk in faith.
Now, I was determined to wear the gown. When I was taken back to the prep room I softly asked the nurse if I could wear my gown instead of the one laid out for me. She regretfully told me it was against the surgery center’s policy and that’s when I completely lost it.
My husband was immediately brought back and the curtain was shut firmly around us. There I laid folded over the hospital bed wailing. My anguish spilling out with no concern for the other patients surrounding me.
“This is all I have left.” I cried.
“I can’t believe I can’t do anything I wanted or planned to do with the baby. This is all I have left. To wear this gown when this baby leaves my body.”
As I sobbed my poor husband stood there, helpless. All he could do was hold me. There was nothing he could say to change the surgery center’s policy and nothing he could do to change our reality.
This was really happening. I knew it and he knew it. So I got up and started undressing.
I don’t remember what else I said, but I’m sure it was painful and hysterical. My grief was spilling out everywhere and I was too exhausted to hold it in any longer.
Through my tears I could hear the nurse whispering on the other side of the curtain. I heard the word ‘miscarriage’ and ‘very upset’.
Then another voice from behind the curtain said, “Karin. We know this is a really hard time for you. If wearing your own gown is going to make it easier for you, then you put it on. We will make an exception. We want to make this as comfortable for you as possible.” It was the anesthesiologist.
I put on the gown and got into the bed. The nurse began prepping me and another doctor suggested they give me a sedative. I wanted to explain why it was so important to me. But I in gratitude I was overcome. I could only whisper, Thank-you.
After that I have no memory of what happened next. I just remember waking up and being told it was over.
Our miracle pregnancy was over.
I don’t know what happened to our baby but I’m trying to get to a place where there is comfort in believing our baby is now whole, healed and perfect, in heaven.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
2 Corinithians 12:9 NIV
During our pregnancy, just eleven days after finding out I was pregnant, I had a severe allergic reaction at 3am. I was alone in our home with five children and my tongue was swelling in my mouth and it was difficult to swallow or speak. In an ambulance I had been given medications to save my life that were considered class B and C medications.
For the entire length of my pregnancy I worried that these medications had harmed our baby.
I prayed frequently for God to heal our baby if anything was wrong. Perhaps He did, in the best possible way He knew how.
In the most complete way. Free of ever knowing pain and only knowing the glory of eternity.
At times I feel I am drowning in an endless sea of grief. It swallows me whole and I welcome it.
Other times, I feel that I’m the only one mourning this baby and so I have to cry enough for everyone to give value to our child’s short life inside my womb.
I wish our baby could have known our love.
I wish I could have held our baby in my arms.
But when I can step outside of my own grief and selfishness, I know that being in the arms of the Father and receiving His perfect love, is greater than anything I had to offer our baby this side of heaven.
And so I lean into that truth and I desperately cling to it.
His grace is sufficient.
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Faith found online
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Baby Dedication
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On Starting a Foundation and Building a School
One Thousand Gifts…and counting
My Journey with Jesus
Karin,
I am so sorry for your tragic loss. I just wanted to let you know how much your words – each and every time you post – bless and encourage me. I am humbled by your wisdom and faith.
I am praying for you!
Andrea
Andrea,
You have no idea how humbled I am at the thought that any of my words could have been an encouragement to you. I have thought of not writing anymore many times.
The timing of your encouragement can not be fully expressed.
Thank-you.
Dearest Karin, my eyes still well up with tears when this reality asserts itself again. You do not grieve alone. I know the depth of heart that was behind this miracle just as I know the Steadfast Faithfulness of the One who gave the miracle. I know you do as well. I will resolve with you to turn my face to His sufficient grace.
Lisa,
Thank-you, friend.
This is one of the hardest things you will ever do – but it does get better by the week. Something that a friend said to me once brought me a lot of comfort:
We imagine all the good that could have been – that we assumed would be there – if our baby made it to birth. We assume they would be a healthy child, with a sweet disposition (at least as an infant) and grow up to be an adult who would love and cherish her family and her God. But what if any of those things weren’t true? What if taking the baby before we’re ready is actually His grace?
God knows everything – He knows all the possibilities and he knows all the outcomes. If He chooses to bring a baby home “too soon,” we can only trust that He knows what He is doing – that we don’t know what he might be protecting them – and us – from, even far into the future. We can’t know. We can only keep walking today.
God’s word is powerful. Just keep memorizing and preaching it back to yourself. Sometimes its the only weapon we have against the enemy, especially in our weakest places.
Loving and praying for you, friend.
Jeni,
I have been reflecting on these words:
God knows everything – He knows all the possibilities and he knows all the outcomes. If He chooses to bring a baby home “too soon,” we can only trust that He knows what He is doing – that we don’t know what he might be protecting them – and us – from, even far into the future. We can’t know. We can only keep walking today.
It is true, we have no idea what we may be protected from our what our child might be protected from. I am grateful that I don’t believe my child’s life just ended and disappeared into nothing. I am comforted that my child’s soul went to be with the Lord and that spending eternity in heaven is a GIFT and a BLESSING that far outweighs anything I personally had to offer. I am not bitter for my loss but I do wish I could have held and known this child now.
And I do realize that I am also battling the FEAR of never having another child and the FINALITY of that. There are two different things I have to mourn or work through. One doesn’t take away the other. Having another child doesn’t replace the child I lost. I believe I will still feel loss even in the face of a blessing of another child.
I don’t really know what to say. I am at peace with WHERE my child is. I am not bitter against the Lord (which I cannot say was the case with my loss this summer)…but I cannot yet imagine never having another child again. I cannot imagine letting go of that vision for my life or dream.
Thank you for your prayers and compassion. It has meant the world to me. I know the moments I have of complete peace are due to the many prayers being sent up on our behalf by faithful friends.
I am truly sorry for your loss. I am in such awe of your unwavering faith. I lost my faith with the stillbirth of our daughter but God kept me in His grace and my faith was renewed this past August surprisingly with our 9th loss.
Many times like you, I just allowed the grief to wash over me. Sometimes that’s all you can do and that’s okay. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve and it affects us all differently. It comes in waves and some are like the force of a tsunami.
I love what you wrote:
“I prayed frequently for God to heal our baby if anything was wrong. Perhaps He did, in the best possible way He knew how.
In the most complete way. Free of ever knowing pain and only knowing the glory of eternity.”
and what Jeni wrote:
“We imagine all the good that could have been – that we assumed would be there – if our baby made it to birth. We assume they would be a healthy child, with a sweet disposition (at least as an infant) and grow up to be an adult who would love and cherish her family and her God. But what if any of those things weren’t true? What if taking the baby before we’re ready is actually His grace?”
It took me over 5 years to come to this conclusion even though I knew 8 weeks before our daughter passed that she would most likely spend her life in and out of hospitals if she even survived delivery. It was just so hard to let go of the sadness, fear and unjustified guilt.
I still have my moments where I grieve for the babies that I lost but I am comforted knowing that they are whole, will never know pain, fear, or sadness, and are receiving God’s perfect love.
May He continue to be your refuge and your stronghold.
Shonnon,
I will be praying for you and I so admire the strength you have after enduring 9 losses. I believe you will see all of those precious babies and spend eternity with them. But my Mama heart joins you in grieving the loss of knowing them now. Thank-you for trusting me enough to share your heart break. It is both sad and comforting to know I am not alone in this mourning. I have been told by many women that this grief will never fully leave me and I will continue to feel it wash over me at times that I don’t expect. If it brings me closer to the Lord then I welcome it. There must be beauty from these ashes.
Oh, friend. I grieve with you. I wish you comfort as you these unbearable months where it is so raw. Much love.
“I prayed frequently for God to heal our baby if anything was wrong. Perhaps He did, in the best possible way He knew how.
In the most complete way. Free of ever knowing pain and only knowing the glory of eternity.”
In the darkest most overwhelming parts of my grief, I have thought of this. I will always love Christian and my mama heart is relieved that he will NEVER have to know this excruciating pain of loss. But the missing and mourning of dreams lost is so very hard.
I love you, sweet Karin. I don’t know the why of all of this, but God does. And I know there would never be just one reason that you did not get to hold your precious child this side of Heaven… Praying for God’s comfort and peace to wash over you and carry you as you find God’s strength for this journey.
Praying for you and Bill. Trust me, you are not the only one that is hurting and mourning… Men compartmentalize in order to survive and to be strong for the women they love, not realizing that knowing that they hurt too brings a measure of healing and comfort to you.
Weeping with you… I wish you did not have to go through this hurt… and it was such a hard God seeking road to begin walking on in the first place…
“Jesus Christ the same yesterday, today and forever.”
“Seeing then that we have a great high priest, that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession.
For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.
Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. ” -Hebrews 4:14-16
Thank-you Marsha. It was such a walk of faith to reach out for this dream, twice. My heart is hurting and I cannot even think of dealing with the finality of my fertility and putting away the dream of growing our family. For now I am just grieving this loss and trying to do it faithfully. Some hours I fail. I will be honest. Thankfully there is grace.
Karin, I was about to write “Words cannot express…” and then I changed my mind, realizing that YOU yourself had expressed your grief so eloquently. I am very moved. God bless and keep you and your family. Shan
I understand your grief and anguish. I’ve had four miscarriages and each one broke my heart. I’m sorry for your loss. Praying for God’s comfort to envelope you.
I am so sorry to hear of your loss. I haven’t met you but have enjoyed reading your blog and gleaning bits of information on how you have used the resources you have been blessed with to help those less fortunate. I’m a homeschooling mother of four and I’ve suffered two miscarriages. My last miscarriage occurred at 14 weeks, we had already determined the gender and watched her move on the ultrasound. It was devastating. During the d&c, the doctor accidentally perforated my uterus, making any more children an impossibility. It has been a difficult to adjust to this new reality, I’ve had to take comfort in knowing that God’s plan is greater than ours. I hope you can find comfort as well.
Also, I’ve found that my children who acted the least stricken by the loss actually felt it the deepest. I know I had a terrible time talking with them and letting them share their feelings- I would cry and they would feel bad for bringing it up. Make sure you let them share, one of my sons bottled it up for my sake and didn’t let on how sad he was for months. I felt terrible once I realized that I hadn’t been there in the way that he needed.
I’m sending you prayers, I hope you find peace and grace and healing. Again, I’m so sorry.