“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
As I sit here in the dark looking at the pictures of our baby I once carried. Tears fill my eyes. I cry. What once brought me joy, now brings me pain.
In November 2016, my husband and I decided to start our family. We were ready for the next chapter. The next 3 months crept by. Each month thinking,
“This could be the month!” But it wasn’t….
Until Friday, February 24, 2017. I saw those two pink lines.
I was Ecstatic. Shocked. Nervous. Excited. Joyful.
Now I wonder, will seeing those next two pink lines be as exciting as the first? Or, will I be filled with fear? Afraid of the loss I feel so deeply in this moment.
I pray I can be filled with as much joy the second time as I was the first time.
I trust God is in control.
He will give me the desires of my heart.
On vacation in an unfamiliar place, in the cutest loft, we lost our baby. We lost our joy. Thinking, “This can’t be happening. This can’t happen to me.”
I wept in the arms of my husband. The only words I could whisper were, “I’m sorry.”
We were out of town. Just the two of us.
I am grateful for the time we spent together blissfully ignorant of what our future held. Grateful for the time to process our loss just the two of us in the silence between tears.
We saw our baby in the early hours on Thursday morning.
Thursday, March 30, 3:45 AM.
I felt it. I felt our tiny baby leave my body. I looked. Something many women can’t or don’t do. But I did. I am forever thankful.
Thankful we were able to see our precious baby’s legs, arms, hands, and fingers. The realization of how something so tiny could be so intricate was miraculous.
A miracle only God could create.
Thursday was long. Friday was longer.
A day filled with doctor’s appointments and ultrasounds.
As the ultrasound tech took pictures, tears uncontrollably streamed down my face.
Ultrasounds should be joyful. It was a joyful experience for us just 8 days before. We saw our baby.
They found the heartbeat. 139 bpm.
But, not this time.
This time they were looking for what remained. If anything. Hoping everything had passed. It seemed so wrong.
When the day was over and we returned home, I cried. I cried because when I left the house a short 6 days earlier, I was pregnant. Now I wasn’t.
I felt so empty. So lonely.
Days go by and I feel emotions I didn’t know existed.
Devastated. Lonely. Angry. Grateful. Sad. Hopeful. Broken.
I questioned things. Knowing there aren’t answers. But questioning anyway.
Could I have done things differently? Did I do something wrong?
I share my story hoping and praying it will help others who have or will experience miscarriage. If I must walk this tragic journey. I want to support others as well.
You are not alone.
No one can prepare you. The feelings of hopelessness, emptiness and loneliness will overcome you at random times during the day or during any given activity.
The pain returns when you think about where you should be right now in your pregnancy or your life as a parent.
You will question things. I was reassured there was nothing I did or didn’t do which caused my miscarriage. I want to reassure you the same. There is nothing you could have done differently.
You will be Mad. Angry.
Mad it happened to you. Mad some of the people you want to lean on, don’t know what you are going through. Even though you would never want them to experience this pain. They all of a sudden won’t be the ones you want to talk to.
It’s not fair to them, it doesn’t make sense and it hurts. I encourage you to push through, reach out even when it’s difficult. Your very best friends want to be there to support and encourage you. Let them. It will be hard, especially if they have babies or children, but it is a part of the healing process.
People will say helpful things. They will say hurtful things. No one knows what to say, so don’t be offended. Appreciate the fact they are trying to help, though they don’t know how. Their intentions are pure.
Be grateful. It is difficult to be grateful in such a tragic time. Be thankful you were able to get pregnant. Be thankful for the time you had with your sweet baby.
The reminders…oh the reminders. This part is hard. The part you can’t control. It happens when you least expect it.
The things people say or ask you about brings it back to the forefront.
The drive to the doctor’s office, once so exciting, is now so dreadful.
The bills you must pay, but nothing to show for it.
Ultrasound pictures and pregnancy announcements. These for me are hard. I have ultrasound pictures I am so proud of. I was so excited to announce to the world. They showed my baby had a heartbeat…which should decrease the likelihood of miscarriage. But, I lost my baby.
I am excited people get to share their news and will hold their baby soon…I know the excitement and joy they feel. I don’t know their story which got them to this point in their journey.
But it doesn’t lessen my pain. It doesn’t help me feel better. My heartache is real.
Seeing a pregnant woman makes my heart skip a beat. I was there…I experienced the joy for a short time before it was ripped from my womb. Literally.
There is hope. Cling to the hope of the future. Cling to the hope of your future rainbow baby. Cling to the hope you are not alone. Cling to God. He is bigger. He will restore peace where there is tragedy. He is near to the broken-hearted.
God never said there wouldn’t be pain in this world, but he promised us hope and a future.
Trust in the Lord for He has a bigger plan. We may not know why. But trust in Him and keep your eyes focused on God. He will provide the way. He will give you the desires of your heart.
Many times, as Christ followers we believe pain and hurt won’t affect us, but it does.
Focus on God’s promises in your life and trust in the future He has promised you.
Allow yourself to feel the emotions you are feeling. Embrace the good days without guilt. Embrace the hard days without shame.
There will be days you feel so strong and nights you fall asleep on a tear-stained pillow.
You are not alone.
I encourage you to reach out to others who have experienced miscarriage. It helped me tremendously to talk to others who knew exactly how I felt and brought up feelings I didn’t understand.
As I have told people about our story, I have realized there are so many women who are in this broken community.
Grieving and healing takes time. The amount of time is different for everyone. The feelings you feel may be different from mine.
Give yourself grace.
I am praying for you. I pray through my story, you find hope for your future and know…you are not alone in this journey. Reach out to those who know the devastating loss of losing a baby and pray for guidance through the heartbreak.
It’s not over. It’s only the beginning. I am hopeful for the future.
This is our story. A story I pleaded with God not to make mine. I prayed every morning,
“I don’t want loss to be a part of my story.”
Yet…Hope is in the loss.
Now I know, this is only the beginning. The beginning of a beautifully broken road leading me back to the joy I thought I lost.
Disclaimer: My name is Kelli Lee Dillard. My husband, Devin and I experienced our loss while traveling during Spring Break in 2017. This is our very personal experience of losing a baby at 8 weeks into my pregnancy. I do not know the pain of losing a baby further along in a pregnancy or losing a baby already born. I do not know the pain infertility brings. I know the pain I felt from a first trimester miscarriage. I do not know or understand the pain others experience from other tragic events. It is my hope and prayer my story helped create healing for your pain.