In 1988 President Ronald Reagan established October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. I have invited a guest blogger by the name of Emma Ford to share with you her story in honor of this important month and the life of her baby. Here is Emma's story...
“I don’t want to scare you but what you are describing sounds like a miscarriage.” These were the words our pastor’s wife (who also happens to be a midwife) said to me on the morning of March 11th, 2016.
But before I go into the details of our loss let me give you a little backstory of our amazing gain. My husband and I were newlyweds who were hoping and praying for a baby. We had no reason to expect we’d lose our first child or have any trouble getting pregnant; we were both young, healthy adults. It was a Sunday morning and I was just one day late, and having never been late in my life I knew something was going on. I took a pregnancy test that same day and my husband and I waited for those two little lines to appear- nope, negative. On that Tuesday I had my annual check-up with my doctor and since I was 3 days late I mentioned it and she had me take a test. Again, it was negative. My husband and I just felt like that was wrong. We just had a gut feeling so we asked for a blood test. The blood test would take a few hours for results so my doctor said we’d get a call at the end of the day.
After a long drive home, mostly spent telling one another not to get our hopes up, we got home, cleaned up the house and prepared for dinner. Right as we sat down on the couch my phone rang. It was the doctor! I didn’t want to answer it because I was afraid she’d tell me the blood test was also negative so I had my husband answer. “Hello?” “Hi, can I speak with Emma?” “Oh, she’s busy.” “Oh... well, I have some news for her...” “Wait! Wait! I’m here!!” “Hi Emma, well... I have some news for you. You are indeed pregnant!”
We were beyond thrilled and immediately began planning how and when we would tell each family member and friend.
The next day we had community group at church. Our pastor’s wife asked us how our week had been, “Anything exciting happen?” she said. We gave each other stern glares as if to inform one another not to share our news. Since we dodged her questions she became concerned and when we went to leave that evening she followed us to the door to inquire if we were okay. She knew we were wanting to get pregnant and based on how we were acting she thought I may have had a miscarriage. When we heard that, we knew we couldn’t leave her hanging and definitely needed to share our big news. So we did! She was excited with us and quickly informed me that if I needed anything I could call or text and she’d be there. Little did I know that just two days later she would be one of my biggest supporters.
March 11th was a Friday morning. It began like any other day with my husband going off to work, me watching Netflix and tidying up our little house. But after breakfast, when I went to the bathroom I knew something wasn’t quite right. There was blood. I knew that blood during pregnancy was a bad sign so on my husband’s break I called him. He prayed with me and I felt some peace. I continued straightening up our house but was overcome with abdominal pain and cramping so I sat down to rest. When I stood up I knew I needed to use the bathroom again and this time I was sure that something was VERY wrong. I got dressed and got in the car to go to my husbands work. When I arrived, I was a mess. I was sobbing and crying, telling him I didn’t know what was going on and I didn’t have anyone to talk to and Google was scaring me. We prayed again and he calmed me down, assuring me that I’d be okay, that our baby would be okay. I left to go home. I desperately wanted to ask my mom but at this point she didn’t know I was pregnant yet and since I assumed I was overreacting I didn’t want this to be how she found out. I decided to call my pastor’s wife to ask her what she thought. After describing my situation to her, she said “I don’t want to scare you but what you are describing sounds like a miscarriage.” Her words echoed in my mind as I finally got the courage to respond. Choking through tears I asked, “What do I do?” She explained what was likely going to happen and that I should go to my regular doctor for some more blood draws. She cried with me, prayed with me, and let me cry. She was there for me when no one else was and for that I am incredibly grateful.
I got home and called my doctor. We scheduled a blood draw for as soon as my husband was off of work. He and I took the drive down together, both crying. We remembered this same drive, taken just days before as we had daydreamed about our baby. It all appeared to be over. So. Fast.
When we got to the doctors office they called me back and seeing my blood was being drawn for an HCG count they asked happy questions like “How far along?” and “Is this your first?” not knowing the true circumstances. It was late in the day but considering our situation they rushed to have my results back by the end of the day. We went for a drive up in some nearby hills and listened to the radio. Sometimes we sat in silence, sometimes we prayed, and sometimes we cried. We got the call on our way back down the mountain, right as we drove back into town. I don’t even remember what my doctor said. It didn’t matter; we really already knew. But having it confirmed was like a deep stab to the chest. We pulled into the back of a parking lot, held each other tight, and cried. Then my husband said “Every baby deserves a name.” So we named our baby Alex Sam; Alexander Samson if it had been a boy, or Alexandria Samantha if it had been a girl.
We had planned to go that weekend to tell our families about our pregnancy but instead we drove to their houses to tell them we’d lost our baby. The days that followed were filled with sadness and tears at the most random of things. I had bought a little wall decal that read, “I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck” intended for Alex’s Nursery, and for days I cried myself to sleep holding onto it. It still sits in the closet in our rainbow baby’s nursery. I haven’t quite decided what to do with it.
To be honest- in those first few days and weeks I truly thought I would never live another happy day in my life. I never dreamed of loving another baby as much as I loved Alex. But God brings such great healing when we ask of Him; when we allow Him to work in our lives and heal us. We got pregnant with our rainbow baby girl right after we lost Alex. My pregnancy was speckled with fear and I often would forget about being pregnant simply because I disconnected myself from it. I didn’t want to lose my baby again.
Alex would have been 1 next month. Our Rainbow baby, Gwendolyn , will be 1 in two months. It’s a crazy thing to have Gwendolyn’s age so close to what Alex’s would have been. If we didn’t lose Alex, we wouldn’t have Gwendolyn. Yet, we still lost Alex. My mind still cannot fully grasp the concept to be truly honest. It’s been over a year and I can say with full confidence God has healed every piece of my broken heart. He has blessed us with the most beautiful little girl and I am so grateful for her. I often see moms post about how they think about the babies they lost every day. I’m going to be incredibly vulnerable with you for a moment and say that I don’t. I don’t think of Alex daily. Alex played a huge role in our lives, yes. Alex is not forgotten but Alex isn’t here, and dwelling on the sadness of losing him/her would steal so much of the joy that comes from the daughter God has given me to raise. Often Alex will randomly come to mind but when that happens, I am no longer sad; I am no longer hurt, because God brings healing to His children. I am joyful knowing that my baby is with his/her savior. I am happy knowing that the first face he/she saw was Jesus (and perhaps a bit jealous). For the three short days we knew we had Alex we savored and enjoyed and LOVED every second of it. For 3 days we lived in total bliss. So instead of dwelling on the pain, I will dwell on those days of joy, the healing and the blessing of a Rainbow that came after the storm.
If you’re reading this and you are not at this point of healing, I want you to know that is okay. It takes time. For some it will take longer than others. I want to encourage you that healing does come. Everyone’s story is different; everyone’s perspective is different, but this is my story. This is my road to healing; this is where God has brought me. I am not afraid to share my story. I am not afraid to use my baby’s name in conversation, and I am not afraid to hear yours either. Your story, no matter where you’re coming from... matters. You matter, your feelings matter, your husband matters, his feelings matter, and your baby matters; no matter how big or small.
