When you lose a loved one...

Hello all,

This blog post has been one that I have pondered and considered writing for a very long time, and one that has not been an easy one to write...

So, here goes: Ben and I had a miscarriage after being married for a few months, and it was one of the hardest experiences I(we) have ever gone through, and one that I will always look on as a personal Gethsemane for me to live through. Not very many people knew, only very very close family, and a handful of friends or people who needed a reason for why I was not in school for a day or two, etc. We didn't share it because it was just too painful for us, and something that still makes our hearts ache to think about, so if you are close to us and are just finding out, it was not a trust issue by any means, there just was never a reason to want to bring it up until now. I do know though, that as I talk about it, I am able to understand and help those who have pregnancy scares or miscarriages, and my heart is much bigger than it ever would have been. I just read a blog that mentioned how pro-lifers should still see miscarriage as a loss just as much as an abortion regardless of how or when or why the baby was lost, and I knew I needed to share our story (I say our story because it wasn't just me who lost a baby, it was Ben too).

Miscarriages are hard. No matter how early, and no matter how late. Ours ended up being an early one. We wouldn't have told people we were pregnant for another month and a half anyways, but it didn't matter because suddenly we weren't pregnant anymore and nobody needed to know why I was so sad, or why both Ben and I would hurt looking at other children and why we still secretly go into a panic whenever a friend or loved one has something happen during a pregnancy or to their child and seem to go overboard in making sure they are okay. It changes you. Even if it happens early on, you still make plans, you still dream, you still connect to that baby. I haven’t had a miscarriage late in pregnancy ( I sincerely hope I never will because it is a fear that has plagued me throughout this pregnancy to no end) so my experience cannot even fully grasp the pain that must come to those who have already announced their pregnancy and have had even more time to plan and connect and dream of their baby, but I do know that it does hurt just as bad. A baby is a child to a parent at 4 weeks, 6 weeks, 15 weeks, 20 weeks, 25 weeks, etc. A parent is a parent from the moment that stick turns blue or a plus sign appears and the pain is real throughout any point.

We lost our little one around 6-7 weeks. We named our baby Eliza, because we felt that it was probably a girl when we prayed about it, and Eliza fit very well. We were floored and so excited because we had wanted a baby from the very beginning of our marriage and had talked about it. We couldn't help but begin planning for what life would be like with a baby, the adventures and joys we would find, and the sleepless nights that would be worth every moment for this little gem in our lives. We kept it very private and I began to be very very careful. I had to walk a lot to school because we didn't have a car at the time and I dealt with being super tired, and unbelievably exhausted whilst working, going to school, and trying to finish my degree. It was hard, but again we were very excited. I started to get little cramps here and there, and I would just rest and try to stay down in case it was from doing too much. I did research and found that there were pains that came from growth and hoped that perhaps the pain was just from a growing uterus, rather than anything else.

Then, while we were on vacation for Thanksgiving visiting family things changed. We were lifting and running after little kids. I was tickling, kissing, hugging, and teasing, and I picked up my nephew and carried him around the house on my back. We wanted to shout to the roof to everyone how thrilled we were, and to apologize for my being so tired and why I wasn't getting up as early, and why I could hardly function after a certain time, but we felt we needed to wait. The night of Thanksgiving I was getting ready for bed when I used the bathroom and found that light tinge of pink/red that I had heard of being a problem and was already afraid of. I asked for a blessing from my husband and my dad who was privy to the knowledge that we were pregnant immediately and felt peace from the blessing. I took it easy the next couple of days, and hoped and prayed the spotting would stop. When we got home, I missed a couple of days from school because the spotting was now bleeding, and I was sick with worry. After a few days, we finally went in to the doctor and found out after two ultrasounds and a blood test that I had lost the baby, and that my body was completely clean of any traces of our little hope and dream. The doctor was great and told us that he and his wife had had a miscarriage before and how sorry he was, and the ultrasound tech asked me why I waited so long to come in (insurance issues, traveling, and just not wanting to give up hope were what I thought, but I didn't have words to say at the time). Our friends who had given us a ride to the clinic took us to get some lunch, and then took us home, and Ben and I crawled into bed and cried, holding each other for I don't know how long. I would cry many times, and I would hold back tears in church when a little baby would smile at me, or reach out to touch me. Ben was more silent and didn't cry around me, but he hurt too. We would talk about it, and made sure we didn't avoid it with each other, that we would mourn together, and that we would include the Lord in our pain because only He would be able to help us overcome the pain we felt. 

As we tried to move on and heal we asked what could have happened, and were told that that early on the pregnancy may not have fully taken, and implantation may not have completed and that some of the concerns I had had from day one indicated that possibility. I had hormone imbalances that were being treated with birth control and I had stopped taking it to try for kids, and I wondered if perhaps my lack of certain hormones had prevented the pregnancy from progressing. There were so many “what ifs” and possibilities, and I worried about every single one of them. What if I had caused it when I carried my nephew around? Had I waited too long to go in? Would anyone have believed me if I had gone in when I told them my symptoms? I don’t know. And I learned that we oftentimes never know. That many miscarriages happen because the body of the baby wasn't strong enough to develop because of chromosomal abnormalities that were not compatible with life outside the womb. Some were caused by hormone imbalances, and then some just happened sporadically. I did my research, and I learned all I could. The greatest lessons would come from the Lord though.

I wish I could say I went through this experience without any anger or resentment to the Lord, but that would be a lie. For the first time in my life, I realized that I thought things would work out as I wanted and that because I was faithful and that I had done everything I could that Eliza would live. It took a lot of praying, a lot of studying, and pondering, and the softening of my heart to learn a very hard and painful lesson I don’t wish to put on anyone if I could help it: Sometimes, even after you have done everything in your power even for the Lord, things still don’t work out. Sometimes while the Lord has the power to give us everything, He doesn’t because it isn’t what will teach us, or help us in the long run. Sometimes, His greatest mercy comes from not giving us what we ask for, even when it is righteous and good and holy, and in having us wait, sometimes in the dark, to understand at another time, or to trust that He has a greater reason than even we can understand we learn the most and are blessed the most.

I hated that lesson for a long time, and it took me months to learn and to understand why He would do that to me. I couldn't understand why I felt things would work out so well and then they didn't. Then I started to just let go of the pain because holding onto it hurt too much, and as hurt and as angry as I was with the Lord, I didn't know any other way to cope with it than to come to Him for help still. (I’m very bad at being mad at people and pulling away from them, it’s just not how I work). As I embraced the mystery of the experience and said, “I don’t understand and I may not until I am on the other side, but I can’t do this anymore on my own, please, Lord, please help me to know how to move on and what I can do.” I found that I needed and wanted to choose God over my pride, over my understanding, and over my justified pain, and I let go of needing to know and just began to live life each day as I could. And slowly, I found that while I was definitely depressed and was sad and not quite myself anymore, I began to hope. I began to just accept that the Lord knew better than I could and that someday I would understand, and that even though I felt confused, He hurt with me and for me, and that that pain was shared and that sorrow was shared by not just myself or Ben, but by our Savior, Jesus Christ.

I learned of eternal hope, and I learned to appreciate the healing effects of the Atonement. My heart grew and softened and I found that there were angels on earth who helped me. Friends who suspected and shared their experiences to help me, classmates who saw that I was hurting and even though they didn't know why brought me notes of love, offers of service, and hugs filled with love. I found that the Lord had surrounded me with people who loved me. And even when people would ask me if I was pregnant because I looked a little heavier and was more emotional, or when people asked me why I felt the need to want kids so early and just to enjoy being married first, I would just move on and forward. It wasn’t easy, but I learned after healing slowly and taking it a day at a time, that after a while, I loved the Lord far more than I had before. That I had the opportunity to hate Him and walked away from it because I could never hate Him, that even when I was hurt and confused that I STILL chose God over anything else, I learned that I had made my choice and that choice would be a testimony on my heart for the rest of my life. I learned that if this ever happened again (which I still sincerely hope never happens) I would die inside but I would never doubt the love of a loving Heavenly Father, or my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Because of my hormone issues (especially without birth control helping to minimize symptoms or restoring lost levels) I would get symptoms of pregnancy every month. Soon my periods were two months apart and I would spend every month worrying about whether I was pregnant or not. I would have false alarm after false alarm, and would take I don’t know how many tests in hope that perhaps we could try again. Then we felt we were pregnant after about six months of trying after the miscarriage and didn't get a positive test. We still hoped. With my hormones being worse, I wondered if perhaps it would take a few weeks to manifest and if I was just patient I would know. I was in the midst of my internship for my degree and I had so many symptoms. I was even gaining the weight that comes with pregnancy and we wondered if by some strange stroke of luck we had a unique pregnancy. After another ultrasound and a failed blood test though, we were sent back to the same conclusion as we had been many times before: Not yet.

While I was heartbroken, I knew this time I could handle it, and while I felt I would get pregnant soon because I had prayed and knew something was close (how long that close would take to manifest I didn't know, a few weeks, a few months? A year? I was accepting that the Lord’s time was not my own) I moved on and just decided to stop trying for a while. That the Lord still loved me, and even though I didn't understand completely why again this was happening, I moved forward with love and Ben and I both just tried to let go for a while. After going through the darkest time in my life and I can’t speak for Ben, but definitely the darkest time in our time as a married couple, we had found the torch that would take us through it and we knew that we could handle it and wait, as much as it hurt and as much as we didn't want to.

Then we moved, and I started to feel sick all over again. This time my symptoms were worse and I just accepted that once again it would be a month of red herrings and dead ends. Two-three months passed without a period and I felt like perhaps my body was unable to deal with pregnancy or periods right now and just accepted it. That was when symptoms continued to get weirder and weirder and finally, Ben and I decided to test, quite hesitantly, to see if I was pregnant. And that was when I found out I was once again, pregnant for real.

It has been a miracle, and Ben and I have tried to cherish every moment. I still remember testing a couple of times to make sure, praying with all of my heart when I had to confirm with a doctor that it would be positive (and getting a result that was about as positive as could be), and us both holding our breath when we had to do an ultrasound, praying we would see a little bean moving around, and being so happy when we saw a baby growing rather than an empty uterine cavity. I have worried every day of this pregnancy, and I had prayed and prayed for this baby to stay and he has. The Lord has constantly reassured me over and over that this baby was ours and here to stay. When we passed the point of viability I let out a sigh of relief that if I did go into labor early, that Finch still had a chance to live on his own outside of me, and each day I thank God for my little son.

We still miss our Eliza. We still wonder why she had to leave us too soon, but I look back on the year we had after losing her, and I realize that the Lord gave us a gift we needed. Ben and I learned that the Lord is always there and that He loves us more than we can ever even begin to comprehend. I learned that if I lost everything I held dear that I would never lose my testimony or lose the love of my Heavenly Father. I learned that Ben and I grew to love each other at a deeper level than I could even imagine possible, and our love has only deepened. I wouldn't trade the lessons we learned for anything, and if I had to go through the miscarriage again to have the marriage that I do, and to have the testimony that I do, I would do it over and over again. I realize that the body my little one would have had would have had many problems and that perhaps it had served its purpose and she was with God again, or that perhaps maybe we will see her again in a body that will be stronger and more able to handle the challenges of life in ways this little body could not. I don’t know, I still don’t have all of the answers, but now, I know that I don’t them to trust in God or to know that He loves me. I don’t need them, and I instead need to always trust in Him. I look back on the timeline before finding out we were pregnant with Finch, and there were miracles forming and preparing us in ways I wouldn't have been ready for before, and that the Lord had paved the way for this little boy to be with us.

With nine weeks left before his due date, I look back on 31 weeks of miracles, and mercy and love.

If you have suffered from losing a child, or dealing with a miscarriage, it is okay to mourn. You DID lose a loved one, and you deserve the right to be devastated by it. Anyone who tells you to let go and move on, it was just a ball of tissue is fooling themselves, and doesn’t know, because a person who has lost a loved one knows that it hurts. It is scary, and it is painful and lasts a long time. We got Zola in the midst of our mourning because we felt prompted to find something to help our hearts heal, and she has been a tender mercy for us in ways I never knew possible. She filled my heart and is probably all the more special to me because of the hole she filled. I am so deeply sorry to any of you who have gone through this, and if I ever know, know that while I may not know your experience the way you do, that I extend my arms of love to you, and that I love you and will help in any way I can. If you don’t want me to know, that is okay too. It’s taken me over a year to share this, I will never ever force or expect you to share if it is too much.

Ben and I still miss Eliza. We still have anxiety attacks when someone we know and love is dealing with a miscarriage or the possibility of losing a baby. Our hearts go out to you, and we love you. It is always okay to mourn and miss those lost loved ones and it is okay to consider them parts of your family. I know we do. It takes time, and it takes the Savior to handle the pain. I hope that you never forget that in whatever circumstance you find yourself in and in any trial or tribulation, that God loves you. That you have a Savior, who died for and suffered not only for your sins, but also experienced every pain you have and will endure and that He is there to help you through it. I know, because He helped me, and He helped Ben, and our hearts while still tender, are healed. You are not alone. There is a silent club of us who have lost loved little ones, and no matter how early on or how late you lose them, you are always welcome, sadly of course, but always welcome. It hurts no matter what, but I have found that I have loved more deeply and more openly and freely as a result, and that when I needed it, many of those who had lost babies and children were there and understood how to help. I know that Ben and I will always be there to help those who deal with it. Please know you are never alone, and that you are always loved.

Thanks for reading.