Rachelle
Mom to Savannah
Victoria, BC, Canada
December 11, 2012

Rachelle shares her story in VLOG form, here:

http://facesofloss.com/2019/06/8801.html

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Camellia

Mom to Ivan Jr.

March 13, 2019

Dallas, Texas

Where do I begin, it’s so hard even typing this right now.  However, I’m grateful God has given me the strength to do so and I do pray that it serves as encouragement/comfort for everyone that reads this.   If you just experienced the loss of your baby or babies, or even if it has been a while back, the pain is very real and present. Continue to take it one day, one moment at a time and give yourself permission to feel sad and express it the way that you feel it.  My prayer is that along the way, you find yourself getting stronger by the minute; being able to speak of your experience without anger or bitterness about the outcome. Finally please know it’s not your fault. I say this because I blamed myself, and I have moments I drift back into that path, but I quickly shake it off.  Some things happen and we try our best to find reasoning for it….and in our search for that reason(s), when we can’t find one that makes sense (which we never will no matter what), we instantly place that blame upon ourselves. Please know that you’re amazing and you did everything you possibly could. I know that doesn’t take the pain away, but with time, and being kind to yourself, it will get a bit easier with each breath you take.  God loves you, and you baby/babies are forever with you.

We would be 6 and a half months pregnant today, which is Wednesday 4/24/19.  I remember my husband and I creating our own way of counting down milestones within our pregnancy journey.  We were both so excited. Finding out I was pregnant in early December 2018 blew me away; meanwhile my husband was so calm and certain when finding out.  I say this because apparently he knew already I was pregnant before I did; he brought me the two tests (1 in November was a false negative apparently and 1 in December with a positive result) after observing my mood changes.  We were over the moon excited. I fell into tears because see, I dealt with an irregular cycle all my life. Made changes in my life, better eating habits, sought help from my doctor, etc. and I was always told my ‘irregular was my regular’.  But it was disappointing and depressing to finally have the perfect man as my husband not get pregnant after being together for nearly 10 years. Very painful. After we both made a pact not to stress about conceiving, that’s when I got pregnant.  God’s timing right? Well, after a bleeding scare on 12/23/18, I went to a clinic, an ultrasound was performed and it was determined me and baby were just fine. I panicked, my husband remained my pillar and knew we were just fine. We both embraced this new territory with nervousness, but joy; we were so ready for our baby and anticipated just holding our child and what our NEW NORMAL would be once the baby was born.  We cried hearing the heartbeat for the first time, when I felt our baby ‘flutter’ within my womb for the first time. We felt so fortunate to be part of something so miraculous as birthing our baby. There are no words to even come close to describe the joy and love we felt instantly for our baby. After being told our baby was a girl, and claiming a girl, God saw differently. We were having a beautiful baby boy. We were still so overjoyed and just wanted a healthy baby.  

Well long story short, at around 16 weeks in my pregnancy, my high risk specialist noticed mucus during one of the scans and examinations.  She quickly prescribed me with progesterone suppositories and bed rest until further notice. This is due to my cervix was starting to open some and it was too early for this.  Of course I was so afraid, but my doctor did explain next steps if the progesterone wasn’t enough. She discussed the cervical cerclage procedure. I was still afraid, but felt good we had a plan B.  After a week on bed rest and progesterone, I was examined and it was determined the inserts were working so she wanted me to stay on them for another week and come back to make final determination if things are progressing as they should.  At my next visit, it was determine my cervix was closed, but the baby started funneling. Hence, a cervical cerclage was mandatory. She highly recommended it to be done that same day. I held in tears and definitely prepared as best as I could mentally for this procedure; I instantly called my husband and we made it to the hospital.  The procedure was quick, a bit uncomfortable for the first few days, but once I was home and relaxed, all was well. The baby was just fine; strong heartbeat. After 5 days post procedure, I started to feel like heaviness in my pelvic area and Braxton Hicks. By this time I was nearly 20 weeks pregnant and read that it was normal to feel this.  I had another follow up doctor’s visit in a few days so I made sure my specialist knew what I had been feeling for the past few days. I was quickly admitted to the hospital for observation because it appeared that my baby had funneled down to the stitch of my cervix, my temperature was elevated and the Braxton Hicks continued, but wasn’t happening closely yet.  

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2019/05/8795.html

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Amanda

Mom to Baby H

August 24, 2018

Millville, New Jersey

Before I begin, it is my hope that this post reaches more than just those who have suffered a loss. I hope it helps anyone with any kind of story. Mothers and fathers of children here on Earth, mothers and fathers of angel babies, single parents, grandparents, foster parents, adoptive parents.. Your story, whether it was easy or trying, is still beautiful. And it is yours, unique to you and your family. I hope my story helps you open yours up to the world. It deserves to be heard. 

This should have been the month where we announced you to the world. Instead, i sit here writing this as a way to heal my broken heart and reach out my arms to those who may also be suffering. How ironic that our baby would have been announced in this month. Pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. A month where we remember all of the angel babies and celebrate them for what they truly are no matter how young or old, how early or far along they may have been. They were babies. They are babies. They are our children. They are the boys and girls we dreamed about, planned for, cried for, and prayed for. They should be remembered and they should be spoken of. This is me doing something I never thought I could do.. sharing my story because I know it’s okay and it’s what this world needs.. to knock down those closed doors and allow the conversations to flow. Because with conversation comes understanding and with understanding comes love and with love comes hope. 

So here I am.. making this announcement. Not the one I ever thought I’d make or ever wish on anyone. I am the 1 in 4. I had a miscarriage. I am also the 1 in 8. I struggle with infertility (secondary infertility, to be exact). I wasn’t very far along and I only knew about my baby for 10 days. But that doesn’t matter and shouldn’t matter. That shouldn’t be the statement someone tells you or even what you tell yourself: “at least you weren’t that far along.” At first, I said that. I said those insensitive words to myself to make me feel as though my pain wasn’t comparable to others, that I shouldn’t be allowed to mourn my baby. I couldn’t keep doing that though. In order to heal and to help others, I have to first be honest with myself. 

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2019/04/8787.html

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Rishona

Mom to Damian and Iris

July 2, 2013 and June 19, 2014

Pennsylvania

When I was in my early 30s, I was on an upswing in life. I had returned to college and finished my bachelor’s degree and then went right to graduate school and got an MBA. I had a great new job and a boyfriend who wanted to build a family with me. I had been waiting until I knew I was in a good place to have a child. I was slightly surprised I did not fall pregnant right away once I decided to go for it. In fact, it took more then a year (13 months exactly). But once I discovered that I was pregnant…I breathed an incredible sigh of relief…I was on my way.

I created a birth plan and started buying books about pregnancy. I subscribed to magazine and started eyeballing baby items and trying to decide where to create a baby registry. I had read the statistics on miscarriage…but all of my appointments were going perfectly. I made it out of the 1st trimester…the ‘scary period’. We were growing more and more excited by the day!

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2019/04/8782.html

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Kelly

Mom to Adam Michael and Sophia Rose

November 30, 1997

Illinois

Still, I Rise
“I will say your names.
I will whisper them to my heart.
I will find strength in my heart
which will always beat for you.”
-Kelly

Raw, numb, wounded, sad, despairing, lost.
21 years later these are a few of the words I use to describe my journey through the stillborn loss of one twin and the death of my second twin 27 minutes after she was born. People are often surprised when they hear how many years it’s been since that devastating day. It has taken me 21 years to find the courage and strength needed to face this kind of loss. It’s amazing what the mind will do to preserve itself after such heartache. People handle grief in different ways. My way of coping was to shut down emotionally and not deal with the pain of it all. I frequently judge myself for how I dealt with the loss. Time has given me the perspective to accept and love myself through the process which has aided in my continued healing.

My story is unique, in that there is an element of violence, which directly contributed to the loss of my twins. The myriad of feelings that were intertwined with my experiences has been intense and consuming at times. Gratefully, I have hung on and been able to find hope and healing.

My husband and I were joyfully anticipating the arrival of our twins. I was 36 weeks and my pregnancy had been going well. I was a few days away from being put on bed rest by my doctor in order to give the babies’ lungs at least two more weeks of growing stronger. 36 weeks of excitement, planning, preparing and loving and it would all come shattering down around me in 24 hours.

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2019/04/8778.html

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Lee

Mom to Faith Ann

October 25, 2018

Alexandria, Virginia

In my lifetime, I have carried two daughters in my belly. I watched and felt them both grow and kick. I heard their beautiful hearts beat – steady and strong. The first came into the world pink and crying. 6 pounds, 5 ounces of joy.  My second daughter came into the world silent in a cold operating room. A 2 pound, 4 ounce precious little person we would never get to know. They are both our children. Both our beautiful, sweet daughters. But only one is with us.

Since losing Faith, I find that I continually describe how I feel as lost. I was in the Army at one point and land navigation was not my strong suit. During one leadership course, the instructor took away my compass and told me to just use my map and terrain associate to find my way. Now I’m on land that hasn’t been mapped before with no terrain to associate. But the weird thing is that others are here on this unmapped land. Even in the short time since we lost Faith, I have found myself in the singularly painful and loving space where I must share that Faith is gone and in the next breath the person I am talking to shares their own loss. It’s painful and loving and intimate and horrifying all at the same time.

When Faith was 10 weeks old, we learned she had Down Syndrome. Neither myself nor my husband had much experience with children with special needs so we aimed to learn what we could while Faith was still growing and yet to join us in the world. We joined a new parents group, we read articles, bought books. When we learned months later that she had a problem with her stomach, we learned again, and went to more appointments, changed doctors, changed hospitals, and toured a NICU. At 28 weeks we learned she had a heart issue but not one that would cause a need for surgery. The doctors treated Faith and I as though everything were progressing smoothly, certainly with a need to monitor, but no heightened sense of alarm. Two days later, Faith did not have a heartbeat. To say we were shocked and numb would be an understatement. I’ve never felt what it left like to live a nightmare until that day at the hospital. The doctor kept coming in hour after hour to saying it would be longer because of other babies being born in the operating room. Even then, I understood rationally that it must be that way, but that didn’t make the pain lessen. Comfort came in the form of three amazing young nurses who treated Faith with such love, taking photos, wrapping her sweetly in blankets, giving us time with her. My older brother was also with my husband and I. As he had been during the birth of our first daughter. In dark hours of the night, waiting with us, praying with us, mourning with us. Faith’s family around her. We miss her every single day. I don’t know if it gets easier. Maybe it shouldn’t.

You can email Lee here.

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2019/04/8775.html

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Stephanie

Mom to Elijah Daniel

April 12, 2017

Roseville, Minnesota

I first started writing this journal six days after I lost my only son, Elijah. Now, over a year later, I want to share my story to help any other mamas out there who may be struggling with their own loss. First, I want to let you know that I see you, I hear you, and I am so sorry that you are going through this unimaginable pain. Reading others’ stories has helped me know that I am not alone in this journey. Even though time has passed, my wounds still feel fresh, and my heart still aches for my son.

I currently have three daughters here with me on Earth. Two were “successful pregnancies” before Elijah was born, and my third was a “successful pregnancy” just over a year after Elijah was born; my rainbow baby. For me, my third pregnancy, Elijah, was going to be my last. Which meant I kept pretty close tabs on the pregnancy: wrote down exactly when I had my first pregnancy test, when we announced the pregnancy to friends and family, the first time we heard the heartbeat, first ultrasound, first flutters, and when things started to go wrong.

4/18/17 – Remembering Elijah Daniel

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2018/11/8765.html

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Piper

Mom to Twins, Addie, Avery, and Viola

Miscarried in 2008, Stillborn December 3, 2012, Miscarried in 2013, and Stillborn May 19, 2018

Dallas Forth Worth, Texas

When I was around seven or eight, my parents got divorced. We stayed with my Dad, while my Mom packed herself up and moved into a tiny apartment about ten miles down the road. That ten miles may as well have been another state. We rarely got to see her, and when we did, I had no idea when or if we were ever going to see her again.

Ah, the joys of being an overly anxious child-right?

It was at that young age I began to learn that some people are more ‘maternal’ than others. The nurturing, cuddling, dinner-making Momma was not what my little brother and I had. There’s no doubt she loves us deeply- she just doesn’t know that type of empathy. Our mother showed her love in mainly material things, and thank God she did- she was our only source of clothing. Our father suffered from severe depression and anxiety, so our shopping times with Mom were always a welcome escape.

We watched a lot of movies, and inevitably saw the stereotypical, more ‘maternal’ moms- tying shoes, forehead kisses, and blankets tucked tight. These families had connections with one another that I craved…this was the type of Mom I knew I wanted to be. A baby-snuggling, snot-wiping, lullaby-singing, booboo-kissing Mom. Unfortunately, my journey into motherhood hasn’t quite been what I’d imagined.

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2018/10/8746.html

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Sindija 
Mom to Baby #2
February 9, 2018
Sweden

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” What form does mourning take when the only proof of a life is a single picture of an ultrasound of an already dead fetus and my own vivid memories of a tiny, lifeless, human-like body. This is the story of my missed miscarriage.

In the summer of 2012, I was pregnant with my son. At six weeks I started bleeding and was told it was a threatened miscarriage. The bleeding subsided, the scan a week later showed a growing embryo, but no heartbeat. I asked my husband to come with me to the twelve week scan at a clinic an hour drive away because I was sure my baby was dead. I was so wrong. There on the large screen on the wall, I saw my precious baby moving. The rest of the pregnancy was uneventful. I was induced because two weeks after my due date my water broke and it was green. There was a risk of infection and issues for my son, but all turned out ok. I lost quite a bit of blood during labor and received blood transfusion.

Fast forward to December 8, 2017. I found out I was pregnant. The pregnancy was not planned but as the new year approached, both my husband and I began planning a future with two children. I had morning, well all day sickness, and very sore breasts. I was definitely pregnant. My waste line was thickening fast and soon I began wearing maternity pants to work. As the 12-week mark approached, I told some of my family members and my two supervisors at work. Once I have had my twelve week scan, we would tell everybody else.

February 5th, 2018. I am 12 weeks and 3 days. This time I went to the scan myself. The same clinic an hour drive away. It was just a routine check up. The midwife asked about my previous pregnancy and I told her about the scare with the bleeding and how my body had no clue of what to do when it was time to deliver the baby. It was as if my body wanted to keep the baby forever. I got onto the table and faced the same huge screen so had five years earlier. The midwife had a hard time finding the baby and once she did I knew something was terribly wrong.

Instead of a bouncy baby what I saw was a tiny and completely still bean. Before the midwife said anything, I uttered the words: “there is no heartbeat.” She asked if it was ok for her to take some more measurements. She printed a picture and squeezed it into my hand. “You will be glad to have this,” and I am, I am so grateful she gave me the ultrasound picture of my bean. My baby measured at 8 weeks and 3 days. For four weeks I had carried a dead being and my body had remained blissfully unaware. I was advised to get in touch with the women’s clinic in my town and not to wait too long because I had an unusually large placenta. It had kept growing for the four weeks. I decided to have a medical abortion.

On February 7th, I went to the hospital to get the first pill. I told the midwife how I was scared of bleeding too much and they listened and admitted me to the hospital a day early. Nothing happened that Thursday. I saw a counselor and cried. On Friday, I got the second set of medication that would start contractions. The counselor came up again and talked to me. She wondered why my husband was not there with me. I told her that there are only two things I wanted. First, ideally I want to come back to labor and delivery in mid August and have this baby. But that is not possible. Second, I wish someone could take my body and go through this for me, but that too is impossible. So the only way for me to do this is to do it by myself.

The midwife gave me lots of pain medication so I felt nothing when the miscarriage happened, but there was so much I was not prepared for. I was not prepared for my water to break, I was not prepared to feel the baby pass, and most of all I was not prepared for the tiny finger, the eyes, the budding ears, the translucent skin, the tiny body that would grow into my baby. I had asked in panic before what would it all look like and what would happen to my baby. I was so anxious about it ending up in the toilet. When I saw it, my first instinct was to take it home. There I sat on the floor, in a pool of blood, talking to my unborn child. I told him (I do not really know what the sex was) how much I loved him, how sorry I was that my body could not protect it. I wrapped him up and put him in the rubbish bin.

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2018/09/8736.html

Amanda Trammel

Amanda
Mom to Baby T 
September 25, 2012
Texas

2 Pink Lines

It’s Sunday, September 24, 2012.  At 7 am my husband’s alarm goes off alerting us that it’s a new day. Since neither of us are morning people he rolls over and hits snooze. About 10 minutes later I rise knowing that if I don’t get out of bed soon we’ll never make it to church on time. I head to the bathroom as is my usual morning routine but today I open that box of magic wands and decide I better try again. Let’s just see. I’d taken one 10 days prior with the usual results but since nothing has changed I decide to just be extra sure.

Half asleep / half awake, I grab that magic wand expecting no magic at all. After all this has to be the 20th or so since this time last year.  Why should today be any different? I wait the customary 2 minutes and then…2…pink…lines.

I turn on another light because surely it’s the sun or a shadow or something…right?  

2…pink…lines.

I look in the mirror and think to myself, “Is today really the day”? The day when a 2 years of prayers culminates into the greatest gift I’ve ever received? My hands begin to shake and I tell myself to stay calm. Besides, if I shake this magic wand too much it may lose some of its’ wonderful powers. Powers that give joy where there was sadness, expectation where there was hopelessness. No, be very careful, you’re holding your future.

2…pink…lines.  

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2018/09/8730.html

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La’Porchia
Mom to Jyson
June 15, 2018
Rock Hill, South Carolina

Being a mother is a role that you simply have to experience to truly know what it is like. There is nothing anyone can prepare you for or help you relate to. Although the road has been quite bumpy, being a mother is one of my greatest joys. My name is La’Porchia. I am 31 years old and I am a mother of two. My daughter is 11 and my son is 5. We reside in Rock Hill, South Carolina. After I gave birth to my son, I was not jumping at the chance to have more children as he is very active and drives me nuts with his never-ending energy.

So, when my fiancé, June, and I found out we were expecting again, shocked is an understatement of how we felt. We were in the middle of wedding planning and had to push the date back as a result of the pregnancy. Everything was happening so fast around me. I was nearly finished with the first semester of my senior year in college and most days, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Nevertheless, we were excited about the baby. This pregnancy was very rough for me. I found myself vomiting every other day. No matter the dish, it seemed it made me sick which caused me not to gain much weight.

I had my first high blood pressure reading in 31 years during my 37-week appointment. I think it was in the 160 range. The doctor sent me to labor and delivery at the hospital to monitor my blood pressure. They monitored me for 2 hours. Before I was sent home, I was given a jug with the instructions to place all of my urine over the next 24 hours in the jug. This was to ensure there was no protein in my urine. The results showed my urine had no protein. When I reached my 38-week mark, I was OVER being pregnant but anxious to meet my little one. We had finally decided to name him Jyson Louis Davis.

I had my 38-week appointment and my pre-op appointment on the same day. I had a scheduled c-section for the following Thursday. At this appointment, they checked the baby’s heartbeat and my blood pressure and everything was great! So…how is it that the very next day, I am at the hospital and the nurses are telling me that they can’t find my baby’s heartbeat. At first, I thought it was Jyson being stubborn but I soon learned that something was very wrong. The pain that I thought were contractions were just my body telling me that something was wrong. As my fears turned into tears, all I heard was apologies from the nurse.

At this point, I can hardly control my crying because I am nearly sobbing. I am then told that my blood pressure has skyrocketed and they are rushing me into emergency surgery. I cannot begin to explain the emptiness and sadness that I felt when the doctor confirmed that Jyson did not survive. He was 6 lbs 8 oz and did I mention he was gorgeous? He was. Everything about him was perfect. My placenta ruptured. Supposedly, it was preeclampsia. Just like that, he was gone. The date and time of death was Friday, June 15, 2018 at 10:35 pm.

How could I not know that something was wrong? How could the doctors not detect preeclampsia during the numerous doctor’s visits? How is it fair that God allows so many unfit parents to continue to bear children but He took our son away? How could everything be great yesterday and be snatched away in an instant today? I had so many questions and not enough answers. As I held him, I felt so empty. It seemed I had run out of tears in that moment. I felt sad for my children who were anxious to have a little brother to play with. I felt sad for June because I know he was just as devastated as I was. I felt sad for my family who was so excited about the new addition to our family.

Meanwhile, I am told that I almost died along with my son and I am baffled of how could all of this be happening without any warning signs. Whether I chose to accept it or not, my son was dead and we were forced to pick up the pieces of our lives that weren’t scattered about and live. Even with the love and support of others, I found myself crying some nights when everyone had gone home and there was nothing left to deal with but the pain in my heart. I was so angry!! It seems that since Jyson’s passing, I hear good news concerning babies or see so many baby-related ads and it makes me sad. A very good friend of mine had her baby the day after I was supposed to have Jyson and I saw it on social media. Seeing that cut me so deep because I felt robbed. I texted her and congratulated her while my eyes were filled with tears and my heart was filled with pain. It is so hard seeing someone love on their little one when yours has been taken away.

[Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2018/09/8725.html

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Trista

Mom to Audrina Marie

March 23, 2018

Rice, Minnesota

On November 24th, 2017, I found out my ultimate dream was coming true. In April, Aaron and I would welcome a daughter into our family. I can’t describe in words the joy I felt in that moment the ultrasound tech told me it was a girl. A thousand dreams flooded my mind…. little girl dresses, tea time and tiaras, tutu’s, pig tails, ponies, ballet slippers, mother daughter excursions like baking or going to the craft fair the list just goes on. The next day which happened to be Thanksgiving, I woke up feeling extra blessed. We were so excited to share the amazing news with our family on such a fitting day. The next week or so we spent living on cloud nine while imagining how our lives would soon change as we welcomed our daughter, Audrina Marie into the world.

Monday, December 4th, it all came crashing down on us. My level two ultrasound revealed a few markers for skeletal dysplasia. The ultrasound tech said, “it looks like a lethal type of dwarfism.” I jumped out of my skin and into shock. This can’t be real, I’m in a nightmare and I just need to wake up. I can’t even process the information. Doctors refer us to specialists at Abbott Northwest to get a second opinion. We stayed hopeful for two days and then our hearts dropped after meeting with specialists in the cities. Doctors seemed to confirm what St. Cloud had found and suggested we do an amniocentesis. We moved forward quickly hoping to get some answers.

The next month was an emotional roller-coaster from hell. We remained hopeful that Audrina would prove the Doctors wrong. We prayed, oh god did we ever pray. I tried to keep the faith and imagine her with us despite what the experts were saying. Our faith train fizzled out after receiving the most heartbreaking news with the genetic counselor at Abbott Northwest. The results from our amniocentesis came back positive identifying the FGFR3 genetic mutation code consistent with the diagnosis for Thanatophoric Dysplasia. Our worst nightmare.

The condition would mean our baby girl would likely die of respiratory failure at birth. Even now after months of processing and grieving, I still cry at the thought of meeting her and feeling so helpless knowing I have to let her go. I know the next few months are going to be tough, and even harder after we have to say goodbye. Right now, all I can do is enjoy her kicking inside me, and love her while she is here with me. Inside there, she is safe, loved and free of all harm. She is a blessing regardless of the situation I face. Even though it would be so easy to be angry with God, I can only thank him for giving me a daughter. Audrina Marie, my angel baby. My dream really did come true, just in a different way. We will still love her for a lifetime. Even though her time here on earth will be short, our love for her will be eternal. [Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2018/05/8625.html

 

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Charity

Mom to Apple and Poppy
 
Regina, SK Canada
 
April 2014 and April 2016

I never wanted to be a mom.  I have never even  really cared about kids.  Children were never part of my plan until I met my husband Joey.  He is a child magnet and a big kid himself.  He works with develeopmentally challenged children and is a caregiver by nature.  Once all of our friends started having children we made the decision to start trying ourselves.  

We both went for our preconception appointments and were given the all clear to TTC. We did a 3 month detox and I read every pregnancy book I could get my hands on.  We were ready for the next chapter in our lives.  I was already 33 at this point and Joey was 36 so we figured it would take us a full year to conceive.  We started trying in December of 2012.  Boy were we wrong about our timelines.  At the 6-month point I contacted my family doctor for an infertility referral because I had a feeling something was wrong.  Because of our socialist healthcare system in CANADA we waited another 6 months to see our first of many specialists.  No one could find anything wrong and we were recommended to start the IUI process. 

 

While we were waiting for my next AF we got the surprise of our lives with a BFP!  We were through the roof and couldn’t wait to share our news with our families as this was to be the first grandchild for both sets of our parents.  Our due date was Christmas Eve and our wedding anniversary is Dec. 21st so December was shaping up to be super exciting.  Everyone was ecstatic.  Our joy was short lived.  I started to bleed exactly one week from sharing our news at the 6 week mark.  Our doctors chalked it up to a “Spontaneous Abortion”  and said we could start trying again right away.  

 

We were determined to get pregnant right away so jumped right into an IUI cycle with Clomid.  It failed and gave me cysts so we were forced to take a few months off.  IUI number 2 with Letrozole was also a big fat fail.  It was around this time that it was discovered that my AMH was low for my age and could potentially be a contributing factor to our infertility.  We were advised to do IVF.  IUI was already more than we  set out to do.  We stopped infertility treatments and did nothing but the good old fashioned TTC for most of 2015.

 

In early 2016, we made the decision to find another doctor and see if we could attempt a few more IUI’s before we gave up.  While waiting to begin treatment on April 3/2016 we were once again shocked with a surprise BFP.  I knew something was wrong right away and demanded that I have Betas drawn.  After 2 fairly high numbers (that didn’t quite double)  I was told to take it easy and enjoy being pregnant.  I felt dizzy off and on and had mild right side cramping. I made it to my 6 week appointment and was told everything was okay.  They were wrong.  I started to bleed over the weekend but it was different than last time.  We had to wait out the weekend in order to see our family doctor.  She ordered an emergency ultrasound and our bad news was about to get worse.  The pregnancy was ectopic in my right tube.  We were referred to the ER and told the on-call Gyno would be waiting for us when we arrived.  They lied.

 

We spent the next 12 hours sitting in our local ER waiting to be seen.  Every now and then I was called to the triage to check my BP and make sure I wasn’t going septic. This was not how I planned spending my early pregnancy.  There was no time to grieve or feel what we needed to feel. That day April 19/2016 will haunt me forever.  By the time we saw the OB/GYN on-call (not the original doctor we were supposed to see) it was almost midnight and we had been at the hospital for over 12 hours. I was starving and thirsty as I was not allowed anything in case surgery was needed.  We ended up choosing methotrexate over surgery in hopes to avoid surgery.  This ended up not being the best decision as I ended up needing the surgery as well as the lump (my baby) in my tube never dissolved.  My badly damaged hyrdosalpinxed tube was removed in early June of 2016 in order to proceed with IUI treatment.

 

There is no happy ending to my story.  Here we are 2 years past that day and have yet to conceive again.  We ended up quitting fertility treatments a 2nd time as my side with the tube only managed to have a lead follicle 1 out of 10 attempts. Pumping myself with injections and drugs that made me feel awful with hopes that I would ovulate on my left side was no way to live. We quit all treatment as of April 2017 and have attempted to move on from life after infertility and early pregnancy loss.  Our story does not end with a rainbow baby.

 

I am trying to come to terms with my childlessness and figure out what my Plan B is going to be.  Every pregnancy announcement is still a kick to my heart.  Most recently my husband’s sister announced her pregnancy two weeks ago.  I haven’t been able to breathe right since.  She will be bringing the first grandchild in to the family.  My heart breaks and I don’t know how to be happy for her.

 

I hate being 1 in 5 and I hate that I am also 1 in 80.  I hate that I am part of the stats the unlucky ones. I turn 39 this year and have spent the better part of my 30’s trying to achieve an unachievable dream. 

 

Writing out my story is a small step in my healing.  The more people I tell the smaller the burden feels. 

 
You can email Charity here.

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Elizabeth
Mom to Grace Anne
 
February 25, 2018
Rocky Point, Long Island, New York

Life is made up of a bunch of fleeting moments. Some you catch hold of and can fully enjoy. Some fly by so fast they are a blur in your memory. Then there are the ones that change your life forever. These, I guess, you would call turning points. These moment change the direction you thought you were going, for good, bad or indifferent. Some of these moments come about on purpose, like getting married. Some happen as rights of passage, like graduation. Others happen, as a cruel act of fate. Our family recently suffered from one of these moments. It’s a moment in time where literally everything froze and then broke into thousands of little fragments. Shards of a direction that we wanted to travel, shards of a memory we wanted to embrace, shards of a life that was taken before it was given. 

February 5, 2018 will forever be our baby girl, Grace Anne’s day. I was 28 weeks and 6 days pregnant with our second little girl. Everything was going according to plan with our pregnancy. Two weeks prior we had heard a strong happy heart beat, I was sluggish and starting to swell but felt fine, and Grace was giving me little kicks here and there. We had been renovating the bedroom that would be Grace’s and our daughter Madelynn was super excited to be getting a baby sister to play with, feed, and teach things too. Our little family was growing by one more set of little feet and we were all anticipating her arrival, in May. Little did we know our world was going to change so quickly and devastatingly. 

February 21st, a 60-degree Wednesday, I took Maddie for a play date at the park with a few of her friends. I wasn’t super energetic and my ankles were still swollen, but I chalked it up to 6 busy work days as a server. I just needed rest. I went home that night and did just that. Put my feet up and rested on the couch. Thursday came and went without much to note. Friday and Saturday I was back at work. It wasn’t overly busy but I was moving. When I got home Saturday night I was pretty swollen in my legs and ankles and super tired. I had noticed that in the busyness of work I really hadn’t taken a second to feel Grace moving. So when I sat down I had some soda and ice cream to see if I could get her going. It was the first time that week that I, not only got a little time to think of just her but I panicked inside a little. I calmed myself down and told my husband I felt we should call the doctor Sunday morning. That phone call was the beginning of the end. Those days, looking back, should have been noticed by me more. I should have paid more attention to my sweet baby Grace. I should have felt my body wasn’t supporting her. I should have called sooner. I should have…

Sunday morning, woke up feeling better. I wasn’t swollen and had more energy. I put off calling the doctor because I felt good. Maddie had a birthday party and I had a baby shower to attend. Half way through the shower it hit me, I swelled up, I felt tired, and Grace hadn’t moved. I called my husband, who called the doctor, and I raced home. Still not thinking anything bad had happened to Grace, but felt like I might need to be monitored. I didn’t know why or what was wrong. I was just off. We left my 4-year old with my mom and went to the hospital. 

The first nurse came in with the fetal Doppler machine. She was talking with us about how I was feeling, so I didn’t even noticed she was having trouble finding the heartbeat. She excused herself and went to get the sonogram machine and the doctor.  The doctor started to poke around looking for the heartbeat. She had a small tight expression on her face, like she didn’t believe the picture. This is when time stopped ticking, voices became jumbled, faces a blur, and my whole world fragmented around me. I can vividly see the sonogram in my head, even though I never saw it. I can vividly see my husbands broken heart and face of disbelieve. I can vividly see every persons saddened face. Then she spoke the words, “I can’t find a heartbeat, I’m sorry, your baby is no longer with us.”

The sound of those words were like thousands of windows breaking at once. It was deafening and so lonely. I instantly felt isolated, empty, and alone. My husband was there, we were holding each other sobbing, the nurses and doctors were there, but my little angel was gone. The minutes after hearing those words were probably the longest in my life. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. Trying to wrap my head around my baby no longer breathing. I thought of a million questions. How long was she like that? Was she in pain? Why? What happened? Why did my body fail her? Why did I fail her? And then reality hit again, she had to come out, how was she going to come out? 

I felt like everything was in slow motion. Nurses and doctors coming in, moving us to a delivery room, calling our parents and siblings, it all seemed to be moving so slow around us. Our nurse, Jess, she stayed with us the whole night. She was supposed to leave but she didn’t and I was so thankful, I needed her. She kept me focused, helped explain decisions we had to make, and just helped me deal with everything I was going through. She contacted my actual doctor, Doctor W, because she knew I would feel better if my doctor could be there. Doctor W had just come home from a vacation with her family, but she drove right to the hospital to be by my side. She and Jess walked us through some tough decisions. We had to decide between labor or c-section, but since Grace was breached, the doctor was afraid of complications during delivery. So we went with c-section. We had to decide on an autopsy or not. How she would be buried? Or cremated. When and where? So many decisions that a mother and father should never have to face? I was shaking uncontrollably. My blood pressures were so high, I couldn’t stop crying and my head was just a mess. Nothing made sense. I was asking again, Why did this happen to my sweet baby? How did I not know? Then it was time, I was being walked down to the OR. This was it, my baby was coming out and I would never hear her cry.

Dr. W and Jess literally held my shoulders while I sat to get the spinal before the surgery. They worked together in the operating room to get baby Grace out as quick and smooth as possible. During the procedure my blood pressure sky rocketed. I was given some magnesium to control it. Jess stood by my husband and I trying to keep us both calm. Once Grace was out Jess asked me if I wanted to see her, I was so broken I just couldn’t bare the thought of seeing her. She took baby Grace and my husband to another room so he could be with Grace and came back to me. She told me how beautiful she is, with blond hair and the cutest little nose. Jess eased me into thinking of how I needed to see my baby, hold her, smell her, remember her. When I was stitched up and moved into another room I realized how much my heart ached to see my little girl. I needed to hold her. My husband brought her over to me. I held my beautiful baby girl for hours. I snuggled her, my husband changed her and took her foot print, we kissed her, watched tv with her, talked to her about her big sister Madelynn, had a priest come in to bless her and took pictures of her throughout the night. She was so perfect. Her nose and the swirl in her blond hair were exactly like Madelynn’s. Her tiny hands had little nails, she had the lightest eyelashes and eye brows and the smallest little pink lips. I will never forget her beautiful face, her smell and the feel of her in my arms. These are the best worst moments of my life. 

Several hours later the nurses came in and asked if we were ready to have Grace go her new room and us to my room. I broke. I realized Grace would be alone, in a cold dark drawer somewhere. She would be alone… For six months her and I were never alone. I couldn’t handle thinking of her without me and me without her. I begged the nurse to make sure she had warm clothes, a blanket and a little piggy toy they gave us.  They promised they would and even took pictures of her with the piggy for us. We were sent to the post-pardum floor and given a room at the end with a butterfly on the name plate. The butterfly symbolized to the staff that we had a “fetal demise.” I was grateful for the butterfly as the staff that came in and out were very careful with how and what they said, but I was so angry that we had a butterfly. I wanted Grace.

Hours ticked by, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I was in pain, I couldn’t think clearly and my blood pressures were still out of control. I was going nuts sitting in the hospital without having my baby to hold, feed, and snuggle. Again, nurses, doctors, family and friends floated in and out of our room. Everything is a haze. No ones words made sense to me, I couldn’t focus. I was empty and broken. Finally, I was able to be released from the hospital. I was so happy to get out of there, but leaving was horrendous. Everything crashed down on me again. My baby was being left behind. I was being wheeled out without the excitement of bringing home our new baby. As we rolled past other rooms, hearing the sounds of happy families, I got angry. I forced my husband to let me walk out instead of being wheeled. I cried as we walked past the baby balloons. I cried as we walked past the expectant grandparents and friends. I cried as I got in the car with no new bundle of joy. I cried as we drove away and I thought of Grace alone. I was hallow. I am still. I’m just an empty body moving through my days, pushing past my grief and guilt to make sure my 4 year old still has a present mommy, my husband has a present wife, and my family and friends have a present me. But in all reality, I’m a shell. I constantly think “what if?” I’m filled with guilt over so much, not knowing she wasn’t ok in my belly, making silly statements like “I can’t wait until she’s out so I can feel like me again,” or “I can’t believe we’ve decided to go back to sleepless nights and diapers.” I would give anything to have my swollen ankles and big belly back. I’d give anything to be up all night because of feedings and diaper changes.  I’d give anything to have a rewind of the past month so I could fix everything. Instead I’m up all night because of guilt and overwhelming sadness. My body has begun to return to pre-pregnancy but I don’t feel like me. I’m not. I’m a fragment of myself. I lost a part of me. A part that grew in me for 6months, that I will never get back. I feel so lonely and empty. I feel like I’m in a fog, a nightmare that I’m begging to wake up from but never come out of. Some days are better than others, where the darkness isn’t so blinding, but I won’t ever be whole again, or feel “normal” again. This is my new “normal.”

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Rebecca

Mom to Callan

May 9, 2017

San Francisco, California

http://facesofloss.com/2017/12/8595.html

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Debbie

Mom to Addy

August 11, 2017

Eau Claire, Wisconsin

​​My husband, Matt, and I found out we were pregnant right after the New Year this past January. We were thrilled, as were our families. We’ve been together a decade, and this was the first grandchild on both sides.

We had what everyone thought was a very normal, healthy pregnancy, regular check-ups included. We had an appointment on a Friday in August, and everything was normal as usual. Then, that following Wednesday, I had terrible stomach pains and left work early. We wondered if it was early labor at first (because she was our first, I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like), but it was constant and pretty unbearable. I remember thinking it couldn’t be normal because I had a month to go and it hurt too much to be something livable for another entire month (I was 35/36 weeks), so I went in to the hospital. And that’s how we found ourselves watching our baby girl on the ultrasound machine, no movement, no sound. [Read more…]

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Chelsea

Mom to Avie Lee

August 19, 2017

Bristol, Tennessee

My husband Alex and I have been married for over 3 years. We found out in December 2016 that we were expecting our first child. I have three generations of miscarriage on my side of the family, so needless to say during the entire first trimester, we were on our toes. It went perfect, and we found out that we were expecting a little girl to be named Avie Lee Elizabeth.

Our entire pregnancy went perfect, we never had any issues whatsoever. My husband is 6’5″ and the doctors told us that we were going to have a big girl. At our 32 week checkup Avie Lee was measuring in the 97th percentile so they wanted to keep a close eye on her growth for the rest of the pregnancy. They had us come back 4 weeks later for a repeat ultrasound on August 16th 2017 to recheck her growth; they were planning on an early induction if she was still measuring that big. On that day she was phenomenal, curling her toes, and rolling her tongue. Alex and I were thrilled because we knew in a month or less we would have our daughter in our arms. Little did we know that day was the last day we would see our daughter alive.

I woke up on Friday morning, August 18th and was getting ready for work as planned, and I wasn’t feeling any movements from the baby. I shook my belly and did everything to try to get some movement from her. I called my doctor immediately and went in first thing that morning. I remember the ultrasound tech snapping 3 pictures and told me they were going to get the nurse practitioner. My husband and I burst into tears. We knew that something was very wrong. She came in and said Avie Lee was gone. I was 37 weeks pregnant when she passed away.

I was sent over to the hospital to be induced immediately. After over 12 hours of labor on August 19, 2017 at 2:57 a.m., Avie Lee Elizabeth was born weighing 7 lbs. 4 oz. and 20.5 inches long. She was absolutely perfect in every way possible. She had the most perfect heart shaped lips, auburn hair, and huge feet like her daddy. We spent as much time with her as we could but sadly her little body deteriorated very quickly. She is buried about 5 minutes from our home so we go visit her often. We still to this day have no answers as to what happened to our little girl; there was no explanation. I still don’t understand how I could have had the most perfect pregnancy and still lose my baby girl 3 weeks before she was supposed to be born. She is our world and we love her more than she could ever imagine. We know she is in heaven and we never have to worry about if she is safe. Somehow, I guess the Lord needed her more than we did. [Read more…]

http://facesofloss.com/2017/12/8584.html

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Amanda

Mom to Landon Ross

June 19, 2017

Olympia, Washington

I am 29 years old and my fiance and I got pregnant in January 2017 and we were over the moon excited and beyond happy to be finally having a baby and growing our family. At the time I got pregnant, we lived in Montana so for a bit of my pregnancy we lived there and then in April we moved back to WA state where my mom lived.

We found out after moving back [that] our baby was a boy so we named him Landon Ross. During my pregnancy he was measuring small and I had IUGR. He ended up having fluid around his heart and so I was referred to see Maternal Fetal Medicine and from there I had to get an amniocenteses test done. They thought he was going to have Down Syndrome but the test came back [that] he didn’t have it.

Things were going well but on June 16th I wasn’t feeling very well so I took a nap and woke up and I still wasn’t feeling well. We used my home doppler test to find the heart beat and we couldn’t, so then we went to the hospital and they couldn’t find the heartbeat [either].

We returned home that night and processed everything. I was to return Monday Morning at 7 a.m  to be induced, but Sunday night my body was already starting to have contractions, so we went to the hospital. I was having small contractions so they gave me some medicine and I fell asleep. In the morning, they induced me and I had him at like 5:56 and he weighed 1 pound and he was so adorable.

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Angela

Mom to Lily

August 23, 2017

Ankeny, Iowa

The Day I Lost My Baby

 

During the six years I’ve been a mother, several loved ones have lost a baby from miscarriage. Some, as many as three or four. I always felt for them, cried for them, and prayed for them, because I knew that hurt would be one that would last a lifetime. But I, in no way, could ever really relate since I got pregnant on the first try with both of my children, and never had any complications.

Until the day I lost my baby.

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Shaunta

Mom to Christa

September 17, 2017

Atlanta, Georgia

As I write this, remembering my baby’s first breath, the tears flow heavily from my eyes. At 21 weeks and 4 days, I thought my life was perfect. Yes I’ve experienced previous loss, a missed miscarriage at 12 weeks in January of this year, 2017, and a chemical pregnancy in 2014.  

Surprisingly, in May of 2017, I found myself pregnant again. Scared, my husband and I waited until 12 weeks to go to our first doctor’s appointment. The midwife there did an unofficial ultrasound and there our little angel was, jumping around. We were beyond happy. At 14 weeks my perinatologist diagnosed me with gestational diabetes. I was out on insulin and told to watch what I eat. At 19 weeks we learned we were having a girl. Everything looked great according to the doctor. At 20 weeks, late on a Friday afternoon, I lost what I assumed was my mucous plug and called the doctor’s office to go in on that following Wednesday. 20 weeks and 5 days, my cervix was high, closed, baby’s heartbeat was 156  movement was great.  

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