1 in 4. That small statement impacts so many of us. In fact, Google says “About 15-25% of recognized pregnancies will end in a miscarriage.” That is TOO many wanted babies gone. Never in my life did I think I would be part of this statistic, but I am. In the year of 2021, I lost TWO babies; EmmyLou who died in utero due to my body going septic from a misdiagnosed infection at 16 weeks. And Meadow; I went into preterm labor at 18 weeks due to a weak uterus from a previous uterine rupture in 2020. She slowly died as I got closer to 10 cm.
Emmy came to us as a complete shock because I was told, due to my rupture, I would never be able to conceive again. But I did and she was growing! We were SO happy; we’ve always wanted a big family. My pregnancy was fine my first trimester – zero issues at all.
When my second trimester hit, I was told I had a very large blood clot attached to her placenta, but not to worry because this was common. I was put on moderate bedrest and monitored every two weeks. I was so naïve; I went on to buy allllll the baby things and we announced at my 14 week mark. We talked to her daily, made room for her in the house, we were all just so ecstatic.
Then, one traumatizing Friday afternoon, I can remember it like it just happened this morning. My husband and I had spent the day at the local children’s hospital because our now toddler was there for a brain scan. Things were totally fine until I felt a huge gush in my pants. I started freaking out and ran to the bathroom. I passed an extremely large blood clot.
I immediately told a nurse at the hospital, and they wheeled me to the ER. I had a room full of concerned doctors just getting right to work. They checked her heartbeat with the doppler, and it was so strong, I felt so relieved. The ultrasound, also, confirmed she was ok. In fact, I saw her little hand just waving away. I felt safe. I felt ok. They assured me that I just passed the clot, and it was all going to be ok.
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. We had a two-hour ride home from the hospital. About 45 minutes from our home, I started feeling contractions. I associated it with being seated for so long. But 20 minutes go by and they are so strong I had to pull over. I knew I was in labor and not only that, but something also felt wrong. I started spiking a fever and I just didn’t feel right. My husband swapped me places and rushed to the closest hospital.
When I got there, I remember being in so much pain and just screaming “please don’t let my baby die, please keep her alive!” But it was too late. Ultrasound confirmed she had passed on the way home, and I was currently going septic. I very quickly delivered her and then was taken to surgery to clear the placenta and infection that had rapidly spread throughout my uterus.
When I woke up, I remember asking the nurse to please just let me go. I begged her to overdose me and let me go. The pain of losing our so badly wanted baby was so brutal. How was I going to tell my older kids? My family? My husband? He didn’t even know yet because I assumed I would be going home the night before.
That phone call home was awful, I couldn’t even look at my kids. They thought I had given birth to a live baby. I crushed their souls, and I knew they would never recover. I spent the next two days on antibiotics in the hospital. I, also, spent the days with her. They let me keep her bedside the entire time. I never slept. I just cried and pleaded to God; “why me? WHY?”
After I returned home, it was hard. I spent weeks in my bed just crying and watching my kids lives just completely shatter. IT WAS SO HARD. Eventually we all pulled ourselves together and decided we were going to live for her. We would keep her alive with memory and always saying her name. We had pictures and memorials of her all over the house. Her death changed our entire family, but we are so grateful we got to spend 16 weeks showing her nothing but love. How beautiful is it to know that your child has only ever known love? No sadness, no fear, no shame – just love. That’s what keeps me going.
I, very quickly, got pregnant again. We wanted another baby, but we weren’t actively trying. Close family very quickly judged us. Told us we were replacing her with another, but that’s not how we saw it. We saw it as God sent her soul back to us and that this baby was meant to be.
When we first saw positive results, we were shocked. VERY shocked. I was so blown away that my body was able to grow another baby after all the trauma. I was very quickly seen by two specialists and was given weekly ultrasounds. We spent my entire pregnancy terrified. We didn’t buy anything; we kept my pregnancy a secret – we were so scared.
Once I hit the 16-week mark, we all felt safe. We felt like this was it, this baby is going to make it. So, we went for a gender scan. Another girl. I knew it was my Emmy being sent back to me. I started buying things, we spent every night talking to her. My kids would tell their friends about her. WE WERE SO HAPPY.
I remember the Friday before she died – I went to one of my specialists for an anatomy scan and he said things were going to great that we could push scans to once a month rather than weekly. I, again, was so naïve. The very next day, I was hanging out with my oldest daughter, and I started to contract. I figured it was because we were moving around, and I hadn’t had much to drink. So, I laid down, drank water, and tried to relax; they got stronger.
After an hour, I had to call my husband in. I tried to hide my tears as I told him I was going to urgent care because I thought I pulled my back… it was a lie. I knew what was happening. As I walked into the ER, I was taken back almost immediately. They did scans and tests for about an hour. They said I was absolutely in labor, but baby was still alive.
They weren’t willing to stop my labor. I was devastated. I will never understand why nobody would even try. My baby deserved a chance to live, but she wasn’t. She was denied because I was only 18 weeks, and they don’t stop labor until 24 weeks. I called my husband and told him what was happening. I remember being in agony just sitting there in labor, alone, just sobbing, knowing she was going to die.
My husband got there in enough time to watch her be born and then he had to leave. Because, you know, covid restrictions were still in place. It was so sickening to me. He was only allowed an hour with our dead baby until being forced out. After she was born, I didn’t cry, I was so numb and just mentally gone.
I only stayed inpatient until I signed myself out after 12 hours. I couldn’t be there listening to all the living babies cry. I just couldn’t. We named our little girl Meadow because we knew she and her sister would forever be playing in a beautiful meadow until we got to see them again. I spent 12 hours holding and kissing her. Leaving was so much easier this time, but I associate that with the fact that I was still in shock. Just a day prior was told she was healthy and 24 hours later she’s dead.
Walking in the door with a little pink box, again, my kids knew. They didn’t even ask. They just knew their sister was gone… again. I didn’t even process what happened for a couple of months. I was so numb and so mentally destroyed – I was a brick wall.
Until one night I broke down. It was bad. I tried to execute myself because I just didn’t want to feel the way I did. I thought I was alone. I was convinced I was the only one who’s gone through this.
I got myself and my kids into therapy. I knew we all needed help. Losing two babies one year after we almost lost my now toddler was traumatizing. I found a lot of support through social media. I spent hours looking for accounts and people like me. Finding these people was the best decision I’ve done on this journey. These complete strangers have become my family, my friends, my go-to’s.
I pray in the future; the world is educated on child loss. I had no idea losing a baby was not only so common but was even possible in the way I lost mine. If you’re new on this journey or know someone who Is or someone who is struggling; reach out to likewise moms. I can speak for us all – you will never be turned way.
You matter. Your baby mattes. Your story matters. No matter how big or small your child was, THEY MATTER. Baby loss is a lifelong journey. It doesn’t get easier in time – you just learn to live through the grief.
Photos taken by Grecco Photography.
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