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Category: grief (Page 2 of 6)

Naivety vs. Faith in Pregnancy After Loss

Photo credit: Mike Hansen

Photo credit: Mike Hansen

I had an immense amount of faith during my pregnancy with G. When G was stillborn, I lost all that faith. I couldn’t understand why this happened and more importantly, why this happened to us. We were devout Catholics. We prayed for this baby. How could God have taken this baby? So when we became pregnant after G, I struggled with my faith. I couldn’t deal with the feeling that I had no control and attempted to control what I could (within reason). When L was born, I thought my faith might return but it didn’t come back quite like I expected. Am I changed forever? A.M.

What is the difference between naivety and faith? Did A have faith or was she living in the world of naivety which nearly every pregnant woman who hasn’t experienced loss live in? I have blogged about the loss of innocence before and this post really isn’t that different except I am using different words; Faith and Naivety.

Let’s define both.

Faith – Complete trust or confidence in someone or something.

Naivety – Innocence or unsophistication.

actually had both faith and naivety. Her first pregnancy was full of innocence. Innocence that bad things don’t happen to babies. Babies don’t die. Faith that babies don’t die, that her trust in God will bring her a living, breathing baby. There are both aspects here but something happens when we lose a child or experience great loss. We lose the ability to channel that faith and the innocence is complete gone.

A may struggle to have complete faith again. This is not a lack of trust in God but a lack of trust/confidence that her Divine Father will provide her a living child. Her Father will provide but what will the provision be?

A will likely never enter another pregnancy naive or with that innocence that all will turn out well.

Channeling our faith with subsequent pregnancies can be difficult but we must try. If we don’t have faith in God, if we are spiritual but not religious, if we carry no spiritual beliefs at all, then have have faith in the child within your womb. They are there, present in this moment and we must carry some faith in that living being will continue to grow and be born alive.

Faith does not equal control, nor does faith equal religion/spirituality. Even though faith is most often associated with religion/spirituality, please don’t think that this post could not relate to you or your experiences. It is a belief, a trust, and faith that we will have a living child following our pregnancy.

But let’s return to A for a moment. To answer her question, she is likely changed forever. Most of us who are touched by pregnancy loss are changed forever in much the same way people are changed after losing a child of any age. We look back, we worry, we wonder, we protect, we question, we are cautious.

I experienced something similar as A. I became extremely faithful during my pregnancy with Ruby. Because I felt like I would lose Ruby at any moment, I thought that prayer could save her. I somehow believed that a lack of prayer could result in her being taken from me so I prayed more than I ever had in my life. It was my “control” and if I didn’t pray enough or the right way or even the right prayers, I was not worthy and my baby would be taken.

So when Ruby passed, I was not only devastated but found myself feeling unworthy of God’s love. I prayed, but he took her anyway. I was not “good” enough. I was His daughter who didn’t try hard enough. I wasn’t faithful enough to Him so He would allow her to stay with me and be born alive.

But that’s not what faith is about. Even if we remove the religious/spiritual aspect of faith, merely having it, does not mean that what we believe in, hope for, trust in, will happen. Does that mean we should no longer have faith? No, but it’s definitely more difficult to have faith when faith had been crushed in the past.

So how do we gain that faith back when we journeying through pregnancy after loss? How do we love again? How do we have hope again. Ah, those words.

Photo Credit: Flickr (Andreanna Moya Photographer)

Photo Credit: Flickr (Andreanna Moya Photographer)

We start small. We have to come to an understanding that we don’t have control over much of our pregnancy and how our baby develops. We embrace the things we do have control over (choosing a doctor, choosing a place for delivery, choosing a way to monitor our baby, choosing how many ultrasounds, choosing which diagnostic testing), and we bond anyway. That bonding is oh so very hard but we must try to bond anyway.

It will not hurt less if we don’t bond for we are already bonded. It’s hard to lower that wall of vulnerability, of opening our heart to such hurt if our baby dies anyway but we must try. We must try to show our baby, this new baby, all our love no matter how scared we are and how hurt we are.

I know it’s easier said than done. I have been there. I walked that journey and lost another. But I left that loss journey with better coping and more love for my child than I could have ever imagined. One of the ways I encouraged bonding was I committed to writing a note to my baby every day. I wrote whatever came to mind. I didn’t think too much about it.

I decided I would write the note to my baby on a white erase board. I then took a picture of the note on the board which ended up being our son’s memory book. This is an easy project but you must commit to it. This made me think each day about my baby and what I would want to share with them. It was perfect and if I were ever to become pregnant again, I would do this again.

There are other ways to bond, such as taking a bath, listening to music, taking a walk, getting a massage, etc but when you do these things you commit to thinking about your baby, talking to your baby (even if only in your head), sending vibes/energy to your baby, positive thoughts, etc. It’s not easy and the first few times might feel awkward and forced. This is okay. Just keep trying.

You may not ever feel normal again during pregnancy after a loss. You may not ever return to the innocence that you made it to a “safe zone” and you will bring home a living baby. You may not ever fully have the faith and trust in the pregnancy process but have faith in your child. Have faith that the child within your womb is yours and is meant to be there no matter how long or short that time is. You were chosen to carry your child. That is honorable.

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage

The Price of False Hope: You won’t believe what the pastor said!

I have attended the births of families whose babies had a fatal diagnosis and have sat with them in the NICU throughout days or weeks as they prayed and hoped their baby would beat the odds. It’s such a difficult time for a family and I am honored to be a part of that experience. I am seeing a trend though, that is haunting me. I don’t know what started this such as pastoral training which says this is a good way to help a family cope or not but some pastors are saying very damaging things. Recently, I sat with a family as they prepared to say goodbye to their baby.

This family BLED hope that their baby would survive. Hope so strong, the room felt sacred. The room felt as if God himself was in the room, providing the comfort this family needed. If you were in that NICU room, you, yourself, would have been filled with the hope that emanated from this family.

“Prove the doctors wrong,” they said. “Our baby will survive this.” These are such common statements and thoughts among NICU families. We need hope, without it, it’s very hard to go on.  Despite nearly all odds being against survival, this family had complete hope. I was moved beyond words. I felt it within my blood. This baby WOULD survive.

I sat with this family as they held their baby for the first time. As the bereavement doula, we began to talk about options; about the “what if the baby doesn’t survive.” “Slow,” I said. “There is no rush to decide right now but it may feel rushed if/when baby passes.” The thought of the baby passing was overwhelming to them. I could understand. We as parents, are not designed to bury our children, especially our children that have seemed to have just started life. If those options are discussed, families may feel it lead to that outcome. But that is not the case, sometimes baby’s die.

Elizabeth PetrucelliTo accept does not mean to lose hope. To accept does not mean giving up. To accept does not mean we are no longer trying.

As this family wavered in and out of acceptance a pastor entered the room with a message. The message was similar to others I have heard this past year. The pastor interrupted my time with this family. Looking back, I should have finished and asked the pastor to wait. I should not have relinquished my seat for this pastor. The energy this pastor brought into the room disrupted mine so much so, that I felt the need to retreat. Was the devil pushing out God?

As I departed, the pastor was sure to state that they were there for only positive talk. There was no need to talk about if the baby passed because the baby wasn’t going to pass.  The pastor was so sure the baby wouldn’t die with these words “I am a messenger from God. And God has told me your baby will not die. I am here to tell you this.”

Was this false hope? Was the pastor disguised as a messenger from God but was really a messenger from the devil? I had hope this pastor was really a messenger from God to bring relief to the family that their baby would survive. I didn’t want to think anything different because now, there was even more on the line. If this pastor was wrong, I couldn’t imagine the extra pain this family would endure.

I waited outside the room when another message was relayed to me about what this pastor said. “God is not an indian-giver [sic]. He did not give this baby to you only to take the baby away.”

I nearly fainted after hearing these words. Where was this pastor coming from? Does the pastor not know the Bible? “For we are all God’s children” (Galatians 3:26). A friend of mine who lost her son to terminal brain cancer gave me very comforting words following my own loss of Ruby. “Our children are not really ours. They are on loan from God. We may have them a short time or a long time, but ultimately, they return to their Father.”

We do not understand our earthly life. We are not meant to. Our eternal life is what we are to look forward to, but how can we look forward to that when we have to experience such immense suffering? Won’t God spare us this suffering? Some are spared but not all. No one knows why. Why would this baby be created and born only to be taken from the loving arms of mother and father?

It’s a mystery.

Their baby did pass. They accepted their baby’s diagnosis and removed their child from life support as so many other families do. I had been with this family for days and I felt as if this pastor did them such a disservice. This family had faith but to hear it from someone considered to be an authority, was devastating after their baby passed.

Through my work with this family following the burial of their baby, they were so angry with God and the pastor. They felt completely betrayed having heard from a “messenger from God.” Why would a pastor introduce themselves as a “messenger of God” here to tell them that their baby will live without a shadow of a doubt? I keep hearing these kinds of statements. I just don’t understand and neither do the families that are heartbroken.

Have you heard similar statements during your journey? How did they make you feel?

Miscarriage Series – Final Thoughts

Looking back, I wonder if this pregnancy was doomed from the beginning. Nearly every step of the way there was an obstacle. I learned I was pregnant on a Friday morning. I was only about 10 or 11 days past ovulation but I was excited to test. I didn’t feel pregnant at all but who “feels” pregnant this early anyway.Day 1 - miscarriage

Everything seemed to be going very well early on, with this pregnancy. My body seemed to be working like any normal, fertile woman’s body would. I was so happy to see the HCG levels doubling and my progesterone level naturally normal. I thanked God that it seemed I didn’t need progesterone supplementation this time.

Friday we found out we were pregnant. We told only close family and a few of my close friends but reserved the announcement to the world for months later. After all, I was technically only three and a half weeks pregnant. That’s super early. I hadn’t even missed my period yet and things can go very wrong at that early stage.

By Wednesday though, I was in the hospital. I had an intense pain which I thought was in my uterus. Timmy and I had been playing at the park on Mainstreet that morning. I was sitting on the curb watching him go down the slide over and over when I felt a pain in my uterus. I thought it was just because my legs were all bunched up and squeezing that area so I just moved my legs and felt a bit of relief.

I was excited, thinking that this was my uterus starting to grow in the earliest stages. The pain seemed to get a bit more intense though, so I stood up. I felt nauseated at that point and began to think about leaving. We really hadn’t been there that long and I wanted Timmy to have more time there.

I thought maybe I was hungry so I took Timmy with my back to the car and ate a fruit bar. We returned to the slide but I didn’t feel right at all. The pain was becoming intense enough that I wanted to lie down. I told myself to wait five minutes to give the food some time to digest and hoped that would help me feel better.

Within three minutes, my body was telling me we needed to leave. Timmy didn’t want to listen and I had to drag him out of there kicking and screaming. I felt so bad for him. He was having so much fun.

I got him in the car and started to drive away. The pain was really low, just above my pubic bone and it had become very intense. It felt like my uterus was in a tight contraction and wouldn’t let up.

I began to get concerned that I might have an ectopic pregnancy. At the next stop light, I googled “early ectopic pregnancy.” I needed to know if this was something that could happen at only four weeks. I didn’t think I would be in this kind of pain that early.

I couldn’t find anything and I was driving. I just wanted to make it home. Home was only ten minutes from here. I drove as fast as I could but just three miles from home, I felt like something bad was about to happen. I needed medical attention. This pain was too intense and lying down at home alone, with a toddler would not be safe, especially if I was bleeding internally due to a ruptured fallopian tube.

I turned the car around and called the clinic. I was quickly in touch with a nurse and explained everything. She kept telling me to stop the car and she would call an ambulance. There was no way I was going to do that. I was only ten to fifteen minutes from the nearest Kaiser hospital. I was driving fast and was still conscious.

The nurse kept me on the line and had me tell her where I was every few minutes. She did not get off the phone with me until she heard me talking to the emergency room clerks. Another nurse had contacted my husband while I was driving and told me that he would meet me there.

I got checked in. The pain was so intense I just wanted to lay down in the fetal position and rock. I wanted pain medication so badly but I knew how dangerous that could be for the development of this baby at this stage. This is the most important time in a baby’s development and I needed to be very careful.

I denied pain medication for hours. After ultrasounds, blood work, diagnostic tests, and doctors telling me they wanted to cut me open and explore, one doctor suggested a medication that numbs the bladder. If that stopped my pain, it was my bladder and no surgery would be needed.

Forty-five minutes after receiving the medication, I was in significantly less pain. My whole stomach hurt though and did for many days but it was manageable. The emergency room however, did not want to send me home until my pain level was under a three.

A lab result revealed I had many white blood cells in my bladder and indicated an infection. I was placed on antibiotics. After nine hours in the emergency room and no end in sight, I opted for some pain medication so we could go home. Thirty minutes later, I was discharged.

The next week, a progesterone test revealed my level had dropped to an unsafe level for the baby. I struggled to get progesterone supplementation. You can read about that struggle here.

I couldn’t believe I was struggling again to receive supplementation, especially with my history of needing it for each pregnancy. The odd thing was, I had no OB and no history with any OB provider so it compounded this mess.

UltrasoundWe saw the baby that week for the first time. Baby was growing well and had a heart rate of 122bpm. Baby measured perfectly and on the exact date of 6 weeks 3 days. I was a little concerned about the heart rate but it was in the normal range for that gestation. Timmy’s heart rate was in the 180’s at that gestation.

Just a few weeks later, I twisted my ankle horribly in the front yard. I fell and was incapacitated for thirty minutes on the sidewalk. I managed to pull myself up the driveway and into the garage where I hung out with Timmy for a while. I was able to walk later that day but it was horrible.

I had an appointment that day as well. I limped in. I was anxious but as soon as our midwife put in the ultrasound transducer, all my anxiety was relieved. The baby was still there and had a heart rate of 133bpm. That was great progress. However, the baby measured at 6 weeks 5 days. I knew there was a margin of error but I was concerned. I was supposed to be 7 weeks 3 days. The baby was measuring four days behind.

Our midwife was not concerned though and explained there was a margin of error. She adjusted my due date to December 11, 2015. I didn’t like any of this and was concerned but figured we would have our due date readjusted at the next ultrasound.

Our next appointment was supposed to be with the OB because our midwife would be retiring but I decided I wanted to see her one more time before being released to the OB. I wasn’t comfortable with the growth so we scheduled an appointment for two weeks later. I would be 9 weeks 4 days. I couldn’t wait for the appointment.

The next week, my foot wasn’t any better so I returned to the clinic. There was nothing they could do since I was pregnant. So they wrapped my foot and sent me home. The following week, we would learn of our baby’s demise.

By the end of the week, I noticed that my milk supply had increased. Before I became pregnant, I was pumping 11oz per pump session regularly. As soon as I became pregnant, my milk supply dropped to 7oz per pump session. I was good with that because this was still just enough milk for Timmy. I planned to wean him soon and had been working towards that goal with success.

When my milk supply dramatically increased on May 2nd, I was very concerned. I thought it might have been because hubby and I had sex the day before. I know oxytocin helps with milk supply but after several days, the supply did not go back down. It remained at 9-10oz or more per pump session. I chatted with a few friends about this and they all told me not to worry. There was no evidence of a loss and there was no way to prove a correlation. There is no research on lactation during pregnancy. I worried but not too much.

The final sign that made me feel like something wasn’t right, happened just the day before my ultrasound. At one of my clients’ postpartum visit, I had an overwhelming urge to hold their baby. I kept talking about how beautiful she was and I seriously wanted to pick her up and just cuddle with her.

Now that I am looking back, I wonder if my body knew our baby was dead and was giving me that urge. I rarely want to hold other people’s babies. I remember thinking how weird it was that I wanted to just grab her and sit on the couch with her. I thought it might be just because I was pregnant.

Then just two days later when my friend came over to watch Timmy so we could go to our appointment alone, I too, had a strong urge to hold her two month old. When I did, it was cathartic. I didn’t want to let go. I just wanted to have my own baby to hold in my arms. I wanted to cry but I didn’t. I just held him. That’s when I remembered how I felt at my client’s how with their baby. It was very much the same desire. I NEEDED a baby. I WANTED a baby. I contemplated adopting a baby right there!

As I looked at him, I thought about what this December would feel like for us. No new baby for sure. No “First Christmas” outfit or bib. Nothing would change at all except the loss we would feel not having that new baby to hold.

Photo Credit: Dravas Photography

Photo Credit: Dravas Photography

STATS on baby:

BFP – 3/27-15 11dpo – BETA 32, P4 17.6,

15dpo BETA – 205

16dpo BETA – 317

18dpo BETA – 759

6w1d P4 – 9.6 HB = 122

7w1d HB = 133


Loss Mothers Come in All Shapes and Sizes

Hummingbird - Loss Mother

This is a loss mother. Can you believe it? This tiny hummingbird is a loss mother. She herself, is about the size of a 12-week fetus (aka baby). The egg which contained her baby, was the size of a kidney bean or an 8-week embryo (aka baby).

Here she is, sitting on her nest. The egg beneath her hatched the day before. But she is not there keeping a tiny baby hummingbird warm. She is grieving.

Hummingbird Nest with Egg

Here is her nest. I captured this photo as she fluttered about above me ensuring I wasn’t going to damage her nest or egg. It’s a beautiful nest. She created it so carefully. This nest took her between 5-7 days to create. It is meticulous just like the nests we humans create in preparation for our own baby’s arrival.

This mother chose what she thought was a perfect location for her nest and baby. It is definitely inconspicuous and not an easy nest to see but once you notice it’s there, you can easily find it again and again. We have been waiting her baby’s arrival as much as she has.

She has fought off other birds, such as the robins who have a nest in the same tree, just several feet above. I have watched her fly at them in attack mode as the robins came near her nest. I worried for her, that the robins would make her newly hatched little one a feast for her own babies.

I don’t know what happened, but her little baby died. She still sits on her nest however. She has all day. We found her baby yesterday on top of hubby’s car. It was not a pretty sight to see. It was sad.

But she still sits. Why?

Hubby doesn’t believe she is grieving. He must feel she is so stupid as to sit on an empty nest. I am not angry with him. Maybe just a bit frustrated that he would think this living creature doesn’t realize that her own baby is gone.

But she still sits.

She sits because to move is too painful. She sits because if she moves, she will lose warmth. She will lose the scent. She will lose what she remembers of her baby.

She sits because losing all that she has left of her baby is so excruciating that her wings may not carry her and she too, will fall to her death. She sits because she is scared. She sits because she wants to remember. She sits because she doesn’t want to forget. She sits because she has no strength.

She sits.

She sits.

She sits.

As I walk by her, I wonder how long she will sit. Should I shoo her away? Should I force her off the nest? Should I yell at her? Should I tell her to find another nest to sit on? Should I tell her she can try again? Should I tell her at least she knows she can lay eggs and hatch a baby?


Should I let her sit?

Should I let her sit until she is ready to move again? Should I sit with her? Should I offer her something to eat? Maybe bring a feeder closer so she doesn’t have so far to go? Should I tell her she will be okay? Should I tell her it’s okay to be sad? Should I tell her I am sad with her? Should I hold her (by the way, it’s illegal to hold a hummingbird but this is an analogy)?

I shall let her sit.

I will watch her. I will make sure she gets up to eat. I will make sure she doesn’t sit so long that she rots into the nest she struggled to create. I will make sure she carries on. I will make sure, I will make sure, I will make sure.

You see, it’s okay for her to sit in her grief. She is not depressed. She is grieving. She has every right to grieve for her baby. She has every right to be sad. I have no idea how long she will be there. She could move today. She could move tomorrow but one thing is for sure, she WILL move.

No one knows how long this will take. Not even her. She doesn’t know how long she will sit in this place but she knows that in this moment, sitting is all she can do. Sitting is keeping her alive. Sitting is helping her to remember.

So she sits.

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage

Miscarriage Series – The Reason

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“God saved you from an unhealthy baby.”

“God doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle.”

“You wouldn’t want a child with a disability.”

These are all “excuses” we were given recently regarding why this miscarriage happened. It’s sad really. While I generally take the side of “there is a reason for everything,” it’s still a painful statement. It doesn’t matter if there was a reason, I wanted THIS baby. I found myself bartering, “I could handle the baby haven’t a cleft palate or a heart condition,” “I could have made the sacrifice and taken care of a child that would never walk for the rest of my life.” I wanted THIS baby.

It was Tuesday, May 26th, just after 5pm. I just began to settle with the idea that I would not hear from the genetics department today. I had called Sandy that morning and inquired about the genetic testing on the baby. The information she provided was very hurtful and even though I longed to hear from her again, I was still upset with the communication about the process of having the baby tested.

My friend Candis had just stopped by. She brought us a meal. It was the last meal anyone would bring for us for this miscarriage. I was excited to see her, even though she had her nearly three month old son with her. It was so nice to have had a bunch of meals over the last two weeks and I was sad to know they would be stopping but we were ready to start moving forward.

As Candis brought in the food and her children, I heard my phone ringing upstairs. I ran up to answer it. When I saw the number, my heart sank. I quickly answered it and walked down the stairs.

“Hi, Elizabeth? This is Sand with genetics. The results are in,” she said.

I sat at the bottom of the stairs. She paused long enough as if to wait for me to tell her I didn’t want to know anything. I paused for a moment. I wanted Hubby there with me when we got the results. He was still at work. Once again, I would be going through another tough moment alone.

I don’t remember what words I muttered but Sandy began to talk.

She said, “I know what happened. It’s quite clear.”

“Your baby had 69 chromosomes. It is a condition that is not compatible with life.”


But our baby DID have life. Our baby had a heartbeat. Our baby had lived for two months inside me. Our baby was growing.

I listened intently as she explained how this condition normally happens. She described that it was likely two sperm fertilized the egg. She relayed that it had nothing to do with our age, anything we did or didn’t know, or anything we were exposed to. She said that this just happens and it’s extremely rare. She said it would never happen again.

I began to place my hand over my mouth as if to hush myself. I began to feel a weight lift off me. I began to feel…happy. I began to feel…relief.

Then she said, “We also know the sex of your baby.” She again paused.

“You baby was a male.”

A boy!

More relief. I felt the stress melt off my shoulders. My shoulders lowered and I began to feel the weight of my own body on the staircase. My hand was still covering my mouth. I was in shock but began to feel so happy. Another boy! Hubby will be so happy to know we didn’t lose another girl. I was happy to know it wasn’t a girl.

I was also happy to know this baby’s name. For months it had been calling to me. It was a name I never would have thought of but it was just there, so many times. In fact, I had told hubby just a few days before that if this was a girl, I would be really confused as to why this name had been calling to me so much.

I began to feel “normal.” I began to think, “We could try again.”

As I was on the phone, Candis could tell something was up. When I ended the call, she had a bewildered look on her face. I said, “What are the odds that you would be here the moment genetics calls?”

She smiled. She made a snarky yet funny comment about how she just makes things happen. I began to smile. It was a real smile. It wasn’t a fake one. It seemed I was “back.” It seemed, I had come out of the dark place.

I told her what happened with the baby. I told her that our baby had triploidy. Then I told her we knew the sex of the baby. She asked. I replied, “Are you coming on Saturday?” She said, “Yes.” I responded, “Then you will find out Saturday.”

I giggled.

We talked and I held her baby and just loved on him. Joey came down and sat with us. Candis had her daughter playing on her lap and we just talked. Then Hubby came home and I explained everything to him. It was a happy, yet sad moment.

After Candis left, I explained to Hubby we knew the sex of the baby. He asked.

I said, “Our baby’s name is Gus.” He smiled. “Really?” he asked. “Another boy!”

“Yes, another boy,” I said. It was time to come up with a full name.

I can’t yet explain why I felt so much relief. I know that most people never find a reason for their baby’s death. For me, it was so comforting to know it wasn’t anything I did. Yes, I am a bereavement doula and I tell women in loss that I was nothing they did but I still felt like it was something I did or didn’t do. Namely, did I get on progesterone fast enough. I had been struggling with that for weeks.

I often wondered if the baby missed out on that vital nutrient for too long when I didn’t know it was low. I often wondered if we would lose the baby because of that and I also wondered if we had lost the baby because Hubby and I had sex. I know that sex itself doesn’t cause miscarriage but I have a sort of “condition” when it comes to sex and wasn’t sure if this particular issue would have caused the demise.

Knowing that our baby was very sick and would not survive was comforting. Hubby even felt comforted and also considered trying again. For now, we aren’t avoiding or preventing life. It’s not our faith to do so. Let’s talk about Triploidy for a moment. Triploidy most often occurs when two sperm fertilize the same egg. This gives the baby a full set of 69 chromosomes. There are other forms and two other ways that this can occur, a double headed sperm is another way as well as an issue with egg cell division.

There is Mosaic Triploidy and Full Triploidy. After researching Triploidy, I found families who are living with Mosaic Triploidy but only one case of a baby that lived to 10.5 months with Full Triploidy. Gus had Full Triploidy which was 69XXY. He would have had severe problems.

I gave life to such a special child. Even though his life was short, this was such an amazing feeling for me. I truly held this child his whole life. This child knew nothing but love. We were special together. I was so happy and proud and sad in all the same moments. I had a gift.

I love Gus and will always love him. I miss him and wish so much that I could hold him, kiss him, smell him, touch him, and be his earthly mother but I also know that I will see him again someday. I will see him in his perfect self. He was a gift.


Augustus Jude Petrucelli

Born May 11, 2015

I would have carried you.

– Love Mom

Miscarriage Series – 2 weeks

miscarriage in ultrasound roomIt’s been two weeks since we found out you were gone. Two weeks since that fateful day in the ultrasound room. I almost can’t believe how fast the time has gone by. It even seems as if some family and friends think I should be done grieving at this point. So few still check on me.

It’s been a particularly rough day. Hubby worked swings today and didn’t spend any time with me this morning. He said he wasn’t feeling well but it’s pretty typical for him to sleep until he has to go to work when he is not working day shift.

I just cried and cried as he was leaving. I didn’t want him to go to work. I hadn’t wanted him to work all week. He said he didn’t want to leave me while I was crying. I mustered up the courage to stop while he was still in the house. I didn’t want him to be late, even though I wanted him to stay. Even if I had cried and cried like I did after he left, eventually, he would have left for work.

Literally, as soon as the front door closed, I laid down on the floor in our bedroom and wept. I wept so loudly that Timmy left the room. I must have scared him. I wasn’t just weeping because I lost our baby, I was also distraught because I was purging baby items. I had spent all morning sifting through baby clothes and toys. Clothes and toys that I set aside specifically for this new baby.

Being enveloped within this baby world, my mind couldn’t handle it. I wanted the new baby to play with these toys and to wear some of these clothes. Instead, I was folding them, sorting them into piles, and packing the ones that made the cut away. As I put some in the “save bin,” I wondered what I would be saving them for. It is unlikely that we will try again. It is unlikely that we will have another baby.  But the clothes I did save, had significance. They were worn by both my boys and had memories attached to them. Someday, I will look at them again and remember how tiny they once were.

After ten minutes of bawling in my bedroom, I called down to Timmy. I could hear him coming up the stairs. “Mommy done crying?” he asked. He kept repeating it as he climbed up the stairs. “Mommy done crying?” I wanted to start crying just because of that question.

As he arrived in the room, he came towards me and asked again while looking intently in my eyes, “Mommy all done crying?”

“Yes,” I said. “Will you please give me a hug, mommy really needs one right now.” He leaned in and hugged me but quickly moved away, focused on some links and rattles that I was trying to donate.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful although I could feel my insides wanting to burst again. I just couldn’t. Timmy didn’t want to be around me while I was crying and that hurt worse than the crying. I tried to talk to hubby through text messages about what I had been struggling with. We seemed to work some things out but it hurt deeply.

I still hurt over the fact that he left me at home alone while he worked. I still hurt over him trying to go back to work so quickly. I still hurt that he seemed so focused on work and I knew that if one of our living children had passed away, things would be different. He would be home.

I relayed those feelings to him and he tried to explain. When he said why he returned to work last week, it stung my heart. He wanted to go back. It was his way of coping. He needed to talk with other people. I get that and I am glad it was his way of coping, but it still hurt, because I was struggling so much.

With friends and family passing along that I should be moving on by now, his interest in work and leaving me alone at home compounds that pain. It’s still too early for me to “move on.” I wish people really understood there was no “moving on.” It’s about moving forward and I will, just not yet. Maybe after the baby is buried? Maybe after the commendation ceremony?

I promise I will get there. I know I will but there is no timeline on grief. A friend of mine who DID check on me today was struggling with how she felt she needed to be for me. I told her that it was not her responsibility to hold me up. She wanted to take my pain away. So many people want to take my pain away and when I help families through loss, I too, want to take their pain away. But I can’t. She can’t take my pain away.

The grief has to be felt. There is no way around it. If there was a way around it, then there was no love or desire for the child that I was carrying. All that can be done is to support me in that grief, through meals, cleaning, listening, taking care of the kids, taking care of other household duties, etc. Anyone who is experiencing pregnancy or child loss wants the pain to go away but it takes time to muddle through that pain and understand, we have to feel the grief.

The evening ended with a meal from a friend. The only friend I have shed tears in front of. We really aren’t that close but we have some things in common and our boys used to look so much alike it was scary. I found it odd that I shed tears in front of her. Maybe my hormones were off?

I settled in for the evening after cleaning up my kitchen and sterilizing all Timmy’s bottles and pump parts. I thought about how amazing it was that I was still pumping for him. He is the love of my life right now and brings a smile to my face every day. I am so happy to provide this milk for him. I remember that I still have placenta pills in my freezer. I pop one of those in and pray I feel better tomorrow.

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage

Miscarriage Series – The Commendation Ceremony

Commendation Invitation for Miscarriage

I wasn’t sure what a Naming and Commendation Ceremony really was. After Ruby died, we were encouraged to celebrate her life and name her. We didn’t have an official ceremony but we named her. I had been to a commendation ceremony before for some clients but I wasn’t sure what ours would be like considering how early this baby was born. I wasn’t nervous though, I was very excited. A feeling I hadn’t experienced much over the prior weeks.

My excitement was just like the excitement I had before our gender-reveal party for Timmy. No one knew the sex of the baby and we all couldn’t wait to find out. When I learned the sex of Gus, I couldn’t wait to share it. I wanted everyone to be surprised just like if he was born alive.

I did fear judgment on the name we chose for him. I wasn’t sure if his name would be accepted by all. In reality, it didn’t matter, this was our son and the name chosen for him. I really can’t say we chose his name because Gus was chosen for him from the moment I knew he was within me. Oh how I wish he was here to carry such a powerful name.

As we all rushed to get ready, I remembered I needed to grab Gus’s memory box, the baby figurine, his cross, and his memory book. A blanket that was made for him would be brought by my friend Peggie. I couldn’t wait to hold it and see it (I sleep with this blanket). Very few memories for such a small child but memories none-the-less.

Gus's Memory Box

We got out of the house on time, but traffic was horrible getting out of town. I had wanted to stop for some thin Sharpie’s but there was no time after how long it took to get out of town. We would show up just five minutes before the ceremony and I had things to set up.

We arrived at the church and family and friends were gathered inside the Narthex. I knew this would be overwhelming and difficult for me in that I needed to greet each person, hug them, and hear their words. As an introvert, this is hard on a regular day; today, it would be even more overwhelming. I was also in a rush to get things set up and talk with Father Ed as I had not yet given him Gus’s full name.

I rushed through greeting everyone and made it to Father Ed where we talked about what was to take place and set up Gus’s things. It was nice to have a few private moments with Father Ed before the ceremony. I was so thankful he was doing this for us.

After everything was set up, all the people were still in the Narthex and I asked them to go sit. Father Ed officiated getting that done with a welcome to all Christians. We entered the church.

The ceremony started with a beautiful song called I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light. I had no idea this song would bring on the tears. I didn’t think anyone else would sing during the ceremony but as my voice choked and I no longer could sing through the tears, I could hear those around me singing. As the third verse began, I could see Father Ed walking up to the altar and as much as I wanted him to hear my voice resonating, my voice was not there.

The lyrics literally took my breath away and I was overcome with grief. It was as if Augustus was telling me, “All is okay mommy. See, this is what I am doing!”

1. I want to walk as a child of the light;
I want to follow Jesus.
God set the stars to give light to the world;
the star of my life is Jesus.

In him there is no darkness at all;
the night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God:
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

2. I want to see the brightness of God;
I want to look at Jesus.
Clear Sun of righteousness, shine on my path,
and show me the way to the Father.

In him there is no darkness at all;
the night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God:
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

3. I’m looking for the coming of Christ;
I want to be with Jesus.
When we have run with patience the race,
we shall know the joy of Jesus.

In him there is no darkness at all;
the night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God:
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

As the service began, I wondered if this was “overkill.” This was the stigma of miscarriage coming out in my own mind. As much as I knew this was needed and more people should do this, I felt a bit bad about making such a hoopla about my own child.

We had our priest and a cantor who were there with a fully lit church. We were such a small group there celebrating his life but it seemed, for a moment, that we were putting out all these people. I leaned into Hubby’s ear and asked, “Do you think this is overkill?” He shook his head no. Afterwards, I would realize why he felt that way.

As Father Ed chanted the beginning prayers, Augustus’ name was sung. I am not sure if everyone picked up on it or not and I hoped he would say his name more and more throughout the ceremony. I could hear my friends taking pictures all around me as I tried to keep the tears from flowing.

Commendation Ceremony 2

My friend Katie, read the first reading. It was so beautiful and relevant to infant loss. As she read, I wondered what was going through her mind. I wondered if she wanted to cry. I wondered if she would make it through without crying. I wondered if the loss of her own son, Henry Thomas, would bring on grief for her. I wondered if I was causing her pain. In that moment, I realized how hard this must have been for her. I just wanted to tell her I loved her.

Father Ed proceeded with the Gospel and then the Homily. The Homily took my breath away again. Father Ed has such a way with words. I wanted to soak in every word, remember it all but there was not way my mind could do so. Augustus’ name was repeated several times so all could hear and I had really wished in that moment, that we were there for another reason. A happy reason, not celebrating a short life.

Our friend Donna then read the petitions and it was so hard. She instantly started crying and it was so difficult but all I felt was love from her. I didn’t matter that she was crying. She was validating this experience. Our experience. She didn’t need to be stoic. She knew how hard this was for us. She had comforted her own daughter through loss. Afterwards, she came to us and gave us a big hug. I just wanted to tell her I loved her. She may never realize how much this meant to our family.

Commendation Ceremony 1

We were asked to place Ruby and Augustus’ name in the Book of Life. Oh how I couldn’t wait to see their names in there. I was awe struck by the fact that Ruby’s name would now be in a Book of Life. We had never placed her name in one before. She too, would be commended and honored today.

After Hubby wrote their names in the book, I noticed that Augustus’ name was missing a U. I had hoped we would have time to correct it later. We weren’t able to fill in the dates of life in the book. I knew Augustus’ but Ruby’s took a bit to remember her exact date. Father Ed told us we could fill it in later. I am not sure when later would be.

Hubby and Joey were then offered time to speak. Joey originally wanted to go first but then asked his dad to go first. I am sure he was just nervous. Hubby started but he was crying. He said some beautiful things but I loved that he said, “When your wife gets pregnant, you fall in love with that baby instantly. Someone you have never met and don’t know.” I know those weren’t his exact words. He probably doesn’t even remember his exact words but what I don’t think he realized is that I needed to hear those words. We talk, but I rarely hear those intimate thoughts he has. It was healing to me.

Joey shared his experience of what he heard from me when Gus died, how he felt, and how hard it was for him the next day because he knew I was hurting. I love him so much. We have an amazing bond and I really need to be more cognizant of that and help grow that bond. He loves me so much and we are “attached.”

Joey drew this in the sand at the Coral Pink Sand Dunes. It was his message. He misses his brother.

Memory of Gus at Coral Pink Sand Dunes

The ceremony concluded soon after and we walked out behind Father Ed. We waited in the Narthex for the rest of our family and friends while they signed Gus’s book and we hugged them and thanked them for coming. They all said they thought the ceremony was beautiful. They all felt it was needed. It validated everything. We lost our son. It’s okay to grieve and our son meant something, no matter how small he was.

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage

Miscarriage Series – The Burial

My brother is here this morning. He arrived unexpectedly two days before but it was a very welcome visit. He even stayed an extra day which made things so wonderful. We talked a lot and the best part was we just took up where we left off as if we had seen each other yesterday.

It’s a Friday, but since my brother was here, I made my Saturday morning muffins. I had hoped he would eat them, but he didn’t. Some people just don’t eat breakfast. 🙂 We talked again this morning and nearly got off to a late start. I didn’t have much thought about how today would go. I needed to remember to bring the camera but that was about it.

Since I had been to communal burials before, I knew what to expect. Last night I felt I just wanted to know what angel bed (casket) our baby was in. There are always two angel beds and this was the only issue I dwelled on as I drifted off to sleep.

We said our goodbye’s to my brother and headed to the cemetery. Hubby and I talked about what to expect. I mentioned that he might be asked to carry one of the angel beds. I really hoped he would. I thought it would bring him comfort. I always seem to want to carry them. I want to touch them.

We talked about how much better I feel knowing what happened with the baby. I have truly felt so peaceful since we learned the baby had triploidy. As I write this post, I am realizing how hard it is not to talk about the baby using the name we chose. That post has already been written but not shared yet so I am still trying hard not to mention any details that might be revealed in another post.

It was a nice and quiet car ride. I wasn’t nervous. I don’t know if Hubby was or not. I actually wondered if I would cry at all considering how good I was feeling.

When comparing this loss with Ruby’s loss, I feel like I have come to peace significantly faster. I wonder if that’s okay. I talk with Hubby about how others I know are still struggling tremendously with their losses. They are still so engulfed with their losses that it affects their every day life. I told him that I wondered if there was something wrong with me because I seem to be “normal” with my losses now.

He didn’t seem to think so and was sad that others I know are still struggling so hard. I stopped talking about it but wondered if that meant I didn’t love my children as much or that I wasn’t as invested in it as my friends were. I am still sad, don’t get me wrong, but I am not crying every day. I also think that much of the last few weeks was postpartum baby blues. It is so hard for me after I have a baby and I don’t think the loss was any different. My body still had pregnancy hormones that needed to be cleared out of my system and I have been sweating a lot during sleep the last few days which is another sign of those hormones clearing.

As we enter the cemetery, I am excited and I hope that it is a small, quiet ceremony. I park the car backwards so I can get out easily and follow the limo to the gravesite. The kids get out of the car and we head into the building. I noticed that the parking lot was pretty full but assumed there was another funeral taking place.

I was stunned to see that the inside room was full of families. They were all there to bury their babies. Some were smiling, laughing with their kids, conversing with others, and there were a few that were crying, sobbing, and sad. I told Hubby that I was so glad our baby was being buried with so many other babies. It was comforting to know our baby wasn’t alone in the angel bed.

Hubby found an empty round table and we sat as we waited for the service to begin. We were told to follow the car to the gravesite and file out of the room. All the mothers needed to raise their hands so the funeral director could count how many mothers there were. I knew they were counting how many crosses they needed to bring. I was nearly giddy for the plain, white cross we would receive that was made from the left over wood that our baby’s angel bed was made from.

This was that “tangible piece.” The closest piece we would get to our baby. I wanted to hold it, rub it, smell it, as if it was my baby. I wouldn’t get it for a bit but I wanted that cross. I wasn’t leaving without one.

We got back in our car and I saw Melissa, my friend who is a bereavement doula. She waved at me as all the cars got in line to follow the limo carrying our little ones to their final resting place. Hubby and I talked about how beautiful and comforting the cemetery was. We also talked about purchasing the headstone for the marker. One headstone is placed there and we can pay to have our baby’s name on the marker. I told Hubby we wouldn’t leave until paying for it. It was expensive but we needed this.

We make it to the gravesite and park along the rows of headstones. A therapy dog hops out of the car in front of us. Joey is obsessed with the dog but oddly enough, never gets a chance to pet him. I see Melissa with all the bears she will give each mother and we make our way through the large crowd. There seemed to be 50 or so people there.

I noticed that no one was helping the funeral director take the angel beds out of the limo and I probe Hubby to jump in. He hesitates. He tells me if no other dad volunteers he will. I was disappointed. I really wanted him to grab the beds. I had no idea how hard that might be for him, I just wanted him to participate.

After ten minutes, two dads volunteered and carried the angel beds to the gravesite. They are set down and the service begins. People are crying around me. There are Magpies that are chirping but their noises sound more like wailing. I take note and wonder, have they overheard so many women crying that they are mimicking their sounds? It was eerie and comforting all at the same time.

Miscarriage BurialThe crosses are placed on the angel beds and my heart sinks a little. It looks like someone started painting on the crosses. I had hoped for a plain one but I didn’t see one. There were flowers painted on them in different colors. Some blue, some pink, some green, and some with sunflowers. I didn’t want a sunflower, that was for sure.

I didn’t feel like crying. I was taking pictures and trying to be in the moment. I wanted to remember burying our baby but I was in between being a loss mother and being a bereavement doula. It was such a weird place to be. I wanted to support those around me when in reality, I was the one that needed support.

Melissa came and took the camera from me and took some pictures of me with Joey as well as the angel beds. When it was time for me to get a cross, I jumped in line quickly. I didn’t want to miss out on getting one.  Melissa passed out her bears. I waited to get one after everyone else did. She gave me and the boys one privately.

As the priest “commended” our children to God, I broke down. The tears started flowing. I could hear Hubby crying behind me and I reached out to him. I look up at the sky and think about God holding my child. I want my child. I need my child now.

I want to touch the angel bed. I want to know which bed my child is in. I turn around and grab my husband. I pull him tight as I mutter the words, “I want to know which one he is in.” The angel beds are placed into the ground.

Siblings of the other babies gather around the hole and toss in flowers, notes, drawings, cards, balloons, and other items to be buried with their babies. I know Joey wanted to do something similar but I forgot flowers and he didn’t make a note. He wanted to give the baby a stuffed animal but he also forgot it. I told him to bring it tomorrow to the commendation ceremony.

We had a few pictures taken as a family next to the hole and then we left to go pay for the marker. The burial and service were free but the marker cost. As we filled out the paperwork, the baby’s name was written down…for the very first time. I stared at it. In awe. I want my baby here, not in the ground.

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage

Miscarriage Series – Day 8

8 months pregnantThere is this feeling you get when you become pregnant. It’s a warm feeling. It’s a feeling only a woman can experience. It’s life within you. There is a life within your womb that has been created and can only be sustained and nourished by your body. It brings a feeling of joy and love. You become connected to your soul in ways you never have been even if you have been pregnant before.

You also connect to another soul inside your body. Sometimes, you can feel their presence. Other times, their presence is silent but you know they are still there. Then there is this baby, who I had no idea left. Their soul disappeared leaving the shell of their body within me. I knew when Ruby left. I knew the exact moment but this baby…this one left so quietly I didn’t even suspect.

Right now, I am struggling deeply. My body is returning to having an empty womb but desperately wants that warm feeling and all that surrounds it from that new life. Even my children and husband treat me differently. Having been pregnant four times now, I realize it’s not about feeling “special.” Sure, I felt special during each pregnancy. I am doted on a bit more, given a bit more slack on household duties and forgetfulness but it’s deeper then that.

It’s a spiritual connection with this new life which surrounds everyone in the house. An aura that moves from room to room, lighting the way as you go, filling every crack and hole within your being with light and love. But all of that is gone now. All the dark parts are returning and it hurts. It’s nauseating at times. My body is fighting the un-pregnant state.

On the outside, it looks like I had a much better day today, but I didn’t. I woke up at 4am and could not go back to sleep. I tried for an hour and decided it wasn’t going to happen. I spent the rest of the morning on the couch watching TV. I was able to see my son that morning before he went off to school, something I haven’t done in almost a year now that he is in middle school.

My husband had the day off and he cancelled his evening job to stay with me. That in and of itself, helped keep my thoughts from drifting to all I have lost. There were still moments where it came up. The thought of moving is a big deal right now. That’s been our focus for the last month or so and now that we will not be needing the extra room we are working through the pro’s and con’s of moving.

Then there are the baby items; should we donate/sell them or keep them. Then comes the not so easy to see reminders such as, I would have been entering the second trimester on our big summer trip. I cried several times thinking about this baby that I will never get to hold.

The funeral home called this morning to tell me that they had not heard from the surgery center yet on when they could pick up the baby’s remains. I had to make a few calls today inquiring about the baby and when the baby would be released. I didn’t care how awkward the conversation was for all those involved at the call center. That’s Kaiser’s fault for having such a complex system. It was heartwarming to talk with the OBGYN clinic because they were so empathic. It seems they have some training in pregnancy loss, beyond any of the other clinics I have been too, especially our first one where we lost Ruby.

By the end of the day, we learned the baby’s remains were ready for release and the Archdiocese of Denver Mortuary would pick up the baby on Monday. The funeral would be at the end of the month. The mortuary is creating a fetal death certificate and wanted the name of the baby. We still haven’t named this baby because we are waiting on the genetic testing. I don’t think we will know for at least another week but we did learn all the testing would be covered so that was a relief.

I don’t want night to come. Night seems scary to me. That must be why I have gotten less and less sleep the last few nights. When night comes, it’s just a reminder. I know that one more day has passed since the baby was living inside me. It’s another day moving forward. It’s another day without that special feeling.

My Facebook news feed is full of pregnancy announcements, birth announcements and pictures of new babies. When a mother posts her struggle with her new baby, I remind myself of how lucky I am that I won’t have to go through that. I won’t have to experience engorgement, baby blues, postpartum depression, sleep deprivation, constant nursing, worrying about co-sleeping or transitioning to crib, sleep regression or any of the other hard moments of raising a baby but I realize that this is all just my way of rationalizing and justifying my loss. It’s my way of saying, “See, you didn’t really want that anyway.” It’s my body’s attempt at trying to make myself feel better.

Instead though, I will continue to feel that hole in my heart and soul. I will continue to long for the child that was once within my womb. I will continue to look at other children and do the math in my head, “That’s how old Ruby would be.” I will forever tell people I have four children, two which are living. I will continue to feel like less of a mother because I couldn’t bring two of my children home with me. What is a person like me called?

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage

Miscarriage Series – Day 7

UltrasoundIt’s been one week since we learned you were gone. Today is not a good day, not because of the one week anniversary, just because I am extremely tearful. Today, I woke up alone. Just as I walked into that exam room without my husband, so I walk today, without him.

Yes, I had a friend with me, that fateful day in the exam room. I was very grateful to have her support, to have her come home with me and spend time with me, but she was not my life partner. She was not my husband. This journey started out so backwards it seems. I understood why he wasn’t there. I did not blame him for not being there. I am shocked he was able to stay and complete his day with how upset I knew he was but today, he is gone by choice.

He was up early, at 2am. Part of me wanted to get up and leave. I wanted to force him to have to stay home. I cried for hours last night and hoped that he would choose me. I prayed for a complication, bleeding, illness, anything so that he would choose me. He left before 4am. He chose work.

I know that men and women grieve differently. I teach this to my families who go through this loss but what I can’t teach them is how to cope with the feelings of inadequacy. The feelings of work being chosen over her/him. It’s a dark place to be. I don’t want to die, but I have no will to go on. I couldn’t hurt myself but I could care less if something happened. And going through these moments alone, suck.

If you are reading this, you are at least 1-2 weeks behind where time actually is. I wrote these on the actual day but I am posting them days/weeks later. So please keep that in mind. This place I am in right now is dark.

I miss my baby, I miss being pregnant, I miss the life we were dreaming of having. As my bookmark says, “What I lost, was a dream.” It feels like it was a dream. Pregnant one moment only to awaken no longer pregnant. You wonder, was it real? Was THAT the dream? Was I dreaming inside a dream?

There is a breeze this morning. The newly grown leaves are twirling and flickering back and forth on the trees. I stare at them. If you saw me, it would look like I was staring off into space but really, I am studying those leaves. So free yet tied to the branch that gives them life. To let go, means certain death. Falling to the ground, shriveling up from lack of life sustaining food and water, crumbled by a step on top. Left to blow away with the wind.

It’s me, clinging to life right now but I am doing this today, alone. No words I can say will change my husbands mind. No words will bring him home to me. This was our exchange of messages this morning:

4:01am – “I hope your day is better today. I love you and I’m thinking about you.” – Husband

6:47am – “I don’t like what you said. “Have a better day.” Its as if I can control my feelings right now. A better day would be to still be pregnant. A better day would be to be here with you and not alone with my thoughts. I will not have a better day.” – Me

7:07am – “I didn’t mean to upset you, I just hoped you would feel better today, that’s all.”  – Husband

7:10am – “Well, you just enjoy your day. Getting out, being with people, being away from me. I shall sit here, suffering alone with my thoughts and feelings. Worried about going back to work on Tuesday and trying to be happy and involved for Timmy. That’s my life today. Which sucks.” – Me

7:53am – “I prayed for a complication just so you would stay home with me. It hurt so much to see you so concerned with work. Especially when you thought you could go to work the morning of surgery and took it day by day instead of just committing to time with me.” – Me

8:07am – “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was hurting you. I’m concerned about a lot of things right now. I am very stressed about many things right now. You and I are not communicating very well right now.” – Husband

8:11am – “A shift has taken place where work seems more important than family. I must be failing in some way to provide the gratification you need so you don’t seek it through work. You only wanted one day for yourself to grieve and then you wanted to return quickly. My surgery got in the way of that.” – Me

You can see the childishness in this. I know he is grieving too. He has shown his grief. He has also mentioned he seems to be feeling much better much faster this time. I thought I was on the same path too, until yesterday. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was the anesthesia, but here I am, in that dark place again.

I hate this place.

Things I have been told:

You can’t stay depressed.

You have other kids you need to be functional for.

You have to move forward.

In reality, I want time to stand still right now or then there’s the other feeling. The feeling that is hard to talk about because people instantly take it the wrong way. It’s the feeling of wanting to die. It’s not suicidal ideation. I am not wanting to kill myself. It’s the feeling of just being so deep in the grief, you want to die. The pain is so overwhelming and there is no way out right now, you just want to die. It’s just like this bible verse: Matthew 26:38 – “My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death.”

Yes. To the point of death. But alas, I will not die. I will move forward. I will come through this grief. I know I will. This is yet, just another moment in time.

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage
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