Hazel Marie

Mom to Kayden Raileigh

Lost January 31, 2012 at 13 weeks’ gestation

and

An angel baby
Lost October 18, 2012 at 10 weeks’ gestation

Rocky Mount, Virginia

Around mid-November 2011, I had started getting very nauseated day by day, and wondered constantly if I was in-fact pregnant with my second child. After about a month of testing and getting nothing but negative pregnancy tests, I finally got a positive. My husband and I were so happy to be having another little one. Around the time I had found out, it was about Christmas, so my primary doctor’s office was closed and getting plowed with tons of snow. They couldn’t get me scheduled in until about mid-January to get me checked and confirmed for my pregnancy, and to check how far along I was.

Mid-January came, and I finally got to go to the doctor. The doctor came in after I had taken my test and said, “Looks like you’re going to have another baby! Let’s do this!” My husband was in the waiting room with our son talking to some of the people waiting to be seen. I walked out, he looked at me so anxiously, so nervous. He said, “So? You gonna tell me?” I said, “Not just yet.” He pestered me up until I got up to the receptionist’s desk to schedule another appointment. He pestered me enough to where I got annoyed, and I finally said, “Yes, John, I’m Pregnant!” and he said, “Yes!” and hugged me tightly.

I had to go in the next week to get measured as to how far along I was. We were both super excited, pretty confident my son would have been, too; he just was too young to understand what was going on at the time. We went to the doctor the following week, and they had measured me as 12 weeks along, and told me my due date was going to be August 5, 2012. They scheduled me for another ultrasound the following week for testing they had asked me to do. I went in that week…it was January 31, 2012. Our car had broken down so we had to get a ride from a relative, who was about an hour and half late. I finally got to my appointment. The ultrasound technician started doing the sonogram, and was barely talking. I noticed something was wrong…very wrong. She put the heartbeat monitor on my stomach for a brief second, then took it off. Still no words. She then said, hesitantly, “I will be back in just a few. By the way, you’re 11 weeks and 2 days pregnant,” and then walked out the door. After about two hours of waiting patiently, she finally came back to the room and said, “Your doctor’s office is on the phone, it’s urgent. They would like to speak to you.” I was put on the phone and my doctor had asked for me to come to the office, that it was highly important. We left, headed for the office, and were called back into a room almost immediately. My husband kept asking my primary nurse if the baby and I were going to be okay. The nurse refused to answer at first, but then saw I was almost about to burst into tears of fear. I could see her tearing up looking at me, showing she was easily emotional, and said, “Did they not tell you what was going on at the ultrasound building?” Both my husband and I had said, “No, they didn’t,” at the same time. She responded, “When they started the sonogram, they found no fetal movement and no heartbeat.” My husband responded, “Is the baby going to be okay? Can we check again to see if the machines at the ultrasound building were inaccurate?” The nurse responded, “No, the ultrasound machine and heartbeat monitors they have are the best in town. It’s a very slim – and I mean slim – chance that it was inaccurate.”

The nurse walked out to get the doctor, and I was trying so hard to hold back my tears, to be strong for my husband…for I knew that it had made a big impact on him. He stared at me, and said, “Be strong, Hazel. Be strong for me, be strong for Marston (our son).” As soon as he said that, it made me want to cry even more. I could no longer hold back my tears. I was bawling out of sadness. The nurse came back in (and I could tell she had been crying), along with the doctor and some tissues. The doctor had told me a story about his wife having two miscarriages before having their twin boys, and told me that I was not alone. He told me if I had any questions or concerns, that I could always call the office, get him on the line and ask away. They took and hCG test to count my hormone levels, and I had to go back in two weeks. That night, I went home in tears, straight tears. Other than seeing my son, Marston, I felt I had not one ounce of happiness throughout me.

Since then, I’ve talked to very few about my miscarriage. Some understand my pain, while others don’t. It’s very hard to discuss my feelings towards the loss of my precious angel at times, and sometimes the pain that I had felt that night comes back to haunt me.

Second miscarriage, October 2012

My third pregnancy I found out about at the beginning of September when I tested positive on a hPT, and was super excited and super fearful at the same time. Filled with happiness because I was pregnant again, fearful because I feared the worst: another miscarriage.

I started having a bloody discharge and mild cramping on October 17, 2012. I couldn’t stop being in fear. My husband, once again, tried his hardest to keep me calm. Going into the hospital, they checked for a heartbeat with a heartbeat tracker, and found nothing. They immediately rushed me into the ultrasound room; the nurses and my doctor wanted to be sure that the baby was okay. The ultrasound technician started doing the ultrasound, and once again, as I before, I didn’t see any movement, and we heard no heartbeat. The woman barely spoke, but wore a smile. But, I could honestly tell the smile was fake, due to the lack of conversation. I was sent back into a room in the ER and had to wait for two, maybe three hours altogether. The doctor who had my results had to help a woman out in the waiting room that was in labor (apparently the hospital no longer delivered babies.), so it took a while…and I waited anxiously, and scared.

The doctor finally came into the room, but didn’t look pleased. In fact, he looked more upset than anything. The first words to come out of his mouth were, “I hate to tell you bad news after waiting here at the hospital for nearly six hours now altogether…but, you had some sort of complication during your pregnancy that we are unaware of, and you are miscarrying.” My heart sunk into my stomach. I just wanted to throw my head down into the pillow of that hospital bed and scream. I would have done it, too, if it weren’t for me holding my fifteen month old son, Marston. Knowing I was holding my son, I tried to stay as positive as I could. On the way out going to the other side of the hospital to get to our vehicle, my husband held my hand and took our son. As soon as we walked out of those hospital doors to go outside, I leaned up against my husband’s shoulder as we were walking and I started crying. I was so upset, so heartbroken.

It was my second miscarriage in the same year, and I fear each and every day that there’s a huge chance that I may no longer be able to conceive anymore children and carry to full term. I fear that in the long run, my husband is going to get discouraged as well. I’ve learned one thing with having my babies go to Heaven. You always hope for the best, but expect the worst.   I sometimes wish that I could talk to others about my situation, but more than half of the people I communicate with don’t even understand what it’s like to go through what I have, twice. They apologize, they make remarks like, “I don’t know how you can’t honestly be crying right now, I’d be pouring my eyes out.” I sometimes even just sit outside in the cold, windy weather and just think about what it would have been like to have my first angel baby here in my arms today, and my second one moving around inside of me still. I’m always going to be filled with that wonder.   One thing that has so far been able to make me have a little bit of positivity when thinking about those two, along with my son and husband making me happy altogether, is something a man from my church had said. (I guess you can say I have somewhat of a strong faith.) He said, “Don’t get discouraged, it’s not you that’s what is wrong. It’s the soul that was trying to enter the body that was forming inside of you. It was too strong for it.” The more and more I think about it, the more I feel maybe he’s right. Maybe Heavenly Father made a soul too perfect to be in a human form, which is why he sends them back to Heaven with him, and maybe that’s why we suffer losing our angels. 

You can contact Hazel Marie at martysmommiee@gmail.com.

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Comments

  1. I’m so very sorry, Hazel. I lost two little boys last year. The first died at 12 weeks 5 days (born in April after a 2 week wait) and the second died at 13 weeks (born before Christmas 12 days later by induction). It’s true that some understand your pain and others don’t. I thought I would never be happy again. It’s such a hard, hard thing to go through. I’m glad that you had a kind doctor. With my first loss I had a horrible doctor experience. Thankfully with my second it was more like yours.

    Email if you ever need to talk. One thing I found is that miscarriage is such a lonely place.

    • Hazel Marie Doss says:

      I’m so very sorry to hear about your losses Matushka Anna. But thank you, thank you for reading my story and for having such a kindred heart and allowing me to be able to have someone to talk to.

      Best Regards,
      Hazel Marie Doss

  2. Jen says:

    So sorry you had to go though that it is very hard to deal with miscarriages, I never talked to much about mine either but the more I do talk about them the easier it is. I have miscarried 8 times, the first one was going into my 7 month and that one was real hard I never wanted to know the sex of the baby just incase I were never to have any of my own which I kinda regret but I just call it my angel baby, the other ones I lost were anywhere from 14 weeks to 20 weeks which were also hard, it seems like with me that I would lose 2 then have a live birth which is really weird but that was my pattern so I do have 4 kids in between all the loses which makes things a little easier, anyway keep your head up and just talk about it cause it will get better.

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