Miscarriage Story – A Story of Grief and Joy
This miscarriage story is a continuation. To read the story in its entirety, click here.

The suspense of not knowing if my baby would live or die was overwhelming. I remember asking God to either stop the bleeding or take the baby. I had had enough. A few days later I went to the emergency room with strong uterine pain. As soon as my husband and I were admitted, I went to the bathroom and passed a large clot. That’s when the heavy bleeding began for me. At 8 weeks I had a full miscarriage. The suspense was over. We lost our baby.

We were devastated, but God was gracious and led us through the whole ordeal. My husband and I with our two sons planted a Rose of Sharon in the baby’s honor. We picked Jeremiah 17:7 (“Blessed is he who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the river who sends out its roots in the stream. It will not fear when heat comes and it’s leaves are always green. It has no worries in the year of drought and never fails to bear fruit”) as a life verse for the baby and sang “Blessed be the name of the Lord” as we stood around our little plant. Afterwards we felt better — a sense of closure anyway.

We were told to wait three cycles to try again, but after the first one we decided to leave the timing up to God. I got pregnant right away. I was so scared. Would we be allowed to keep this baby? I guess I figured almost every third pregnancy is a miscarriage and now I could relate to other women who lost their babies. I was young and healthy and saw no reason it would happen again. Still, we only told those who we knew would pray for us. I knew that miscarriages are common before 12 weeks, but I was holding my breath until I got to 8 weeks since that’s when I miscarried previously.

At 8 weeks, I felt confirmation from the Lord that my baby was going to be fine. I started releasing my fears and anxieties. We told our boys and started telling all our friends and family about the pregnancy. From there everything progressed as normal. I was sick for a few weeks. My clothes grew tighter each day until finally I could only wear maternity clothes. At about 15 weeks I felt the little life inside me move. I laughed then cried with joy. The life inside me was growing and I felt that we would once again have a baby in our home.

The signs of life were so obvious, but still I had trouble accepting it. I began to wonder what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I accept the fact that I was pregnant and attach to the baby? I wondered if it was due to the previous loss that doubt of this life continued. I wondered if my disbelief was because I had given up hope of another child years before. I didn’t understand why, but something kept me from accepting the reality that I was pregnant.

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