Allison’s Story: Miscarriage

*I am honored to host a series of guest posts by mothers on dealing with the loss of our little ones during pregnancy or shortly after. Each mother has written a summary of their journey and then a letter to the baby they lost. I have found this to be a really healing part of my journey and would recommend that any mother who has lost a baby write a letter full of those words she wanted to express, but never got the chance.*

Allison’s Journey:

We found out we were pregnant on a football Saturday in the fall of 2010. We had been married for almost two years. I was in graduate school and just getting off the pill in case we would want to get pregnant the next year. I had started charting my fluids and temperatures when I went off the pill but couldn’t understand why I had high waking temperatures for so long. One of my friends told me I should take a pregnancy test. Huh. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. It was positive. The pregnancy was unplanned, shocking, and extremely exciting. I guessed that I was about 5 weeks along. I called my OB and we set up an initial paperwork appointment. Since I had just gotten off the pill, he ordered an ultrasound at 8 weeks to check the timing and development. We were elated. I walked around campus and sat in class with pure joy at the thought that there was life inside of me and it would change everything.

The ultrasound was scheduled for November 23, 2010. My husband went with me into the little dark room. The technician began the exam and asked me why the ultrasound had been scheduled. She turned the screen and in a very straightforward manner told me that the baby had no heartbeat and looked like it had only grown to about 6 weeks. “Is it too early to see?” I asked, completely stunned. She replied, “No.”

That was it. The baby was gone. The hope and dream of parenthood was gone. I went home, wept, and prayed for a miracle. Friends from church who knew the pain of pregnancy loss brought flowers by. I started bleeding two days later, on Thanksgiving, out of town. I went to a Husker football game, while bleeding and in pain on Friday. I passed the pregnancy that night. I was thankful that it came naturally and no surgery or drugs were required. I called the nurse to tell them I thought I passed the pregnancy and she asked me, “Did you save the tissue?” “No,” I responded, “No one told me to.” “Oh, well, we don’t always think clearly in the middle of the night,” she said. I was furious, deeply offended and I felt like a fool. I can’t say many other physical experiences in my life have been more clear or memorable.

Our lives went on but they were never the same. I ached for the baby I lost. I ached for a baby to hold and love. I felt betrayed by God. I still don’t understand to this day the “why” of the pregnancy loss. I didn’t get pregnant soon after. I didn’t adopt a child in that time. I grieved for months and got to know a different circle of women that I had joined the ranks of. I was a Mom with no child. It was hard. I am so utterly thankful for the healthy pregnancy and life of our daughter, who is now 18 months old. It took us 7 months of trying to become pregnant and we praise God that the wait was not longer, as so many couples experience. While we were trying to become pregnant with Evelyn, we also attended foster care classes and later became licensed foster parents. I strongly suspect this would never have occurred had we not lost our first child with uncertainty of successful pregnancy for the future. For the last five months, we have been raising a little baby boy. And though he may not be a part of our forever family, we will love him forever.

I wrote a letter to our baby close to the due date. We named the child, Jo. Gender neutral, though for some reason we think of the baby as a girl. I feel hope knowing that God loves Jo more than we ever did or could and he has Jo in his eternal care.

Dear Jo,
It’s come to be that time of year. I can’t stop thinking about how I wish you were here and about to be entering our lives. How I long to be uncomfortable, in pain, terrified at the thought of raising you, and hearing you cry as you take your first gasping breaths of air on this earth. The doctors told me you would be here on June 30th, but that was not the case. Sweet Jo, we hoped that God would bless us with your presence now but he had other plans. I can’t tell you how much I miss you.

I was thinking the other day about how your father and I used to take walks at night, even though it was cold, when you were with us because we wanted to keep you and me healthy. I was thinking about how it was so easy to give up caffeine and wine and all those other treats that could harm a tiny babe like you. I was thinking about how much fullness you brought into our lives. Jo, you were treasured.

We did not know that you were coming and we certainly did not know that you would be leaving us so soon after we learned about you. Darling Jo, you were loved. Precious Jo, you are loved.

Dearest Jo, I want you to know that on this day, the day that you were “due,” we are still thinking about and eagerly waiting to meet you. Jo, we are thankful. We are thankful for you and the way that you changed our lives forever. You taught us about love, contentment, compassion, mercy, grief, suffering, hope, and so many other things. Thank you, Jo.

I am thankful for you. I am thankful for the moments when I smiled sitting in class knowing that a little baby bean was also listening to that boring lecture. I am thankful for the complete fun it was surprising our friends and family with the news. I am so thankful that you opened my eyes to the experience of motherhood and the pain of those that have lost their own. I am thankful that God has used you to shape my life and to redirect my selfish heart.

Jo, until the day that I meet you, I will always miss you. I will always wonder why you were not destined long for this earth. I will still wish that there was another way for God to have refined and sanctified me. But Jo, I wouldn’t give up the eight weeks I had with you for anything. You were completely and utterly cherished.

I love you, little one. Rest well in the arms of our Savior until I can hold you.

Love,
Mom