This is a continuation of My Story through infertility and multiple miscarriages. You can read in chronological order here. Thank you for reading, and as always, please feel free to share this website and My Story with anyone you think may need encouragement in this area!
Just three short months after I endured my first miscarriage, I found myself pregnant again. I was filled with hope and worry all at the same time. Would I lose this baby too? After I passed the 13 week mark and all was well, I felt as though everything was going to be alright with this pregnancy. I felt the baby move, my belly grew and I was able to carry the baby past full term, 41 weeks to be exact. I gave birth via an emergency c-section to a beautiful baby girl, Chloe Elizabeth, in September of 2002. She was (and still is) the joy of our life! It seemed that after my first pregnancy my reproductive organs realized what their purpose was: to reproduce! What was difficult in the first years of marriage, suddenly became easy. In fact, I was so surprised to find out just four months after having Chloe that I was expecting again.
I strove to be wise with my words this time. I only told my husband and my sweet sister-in-law that we were expecting. Jon and I were in shock because my babies would just be 13 months apart from each other. After having a successful pregnancy, I really did not expect to have another miscarriage. I had no worries! After all, I was focused on caring for my newborn baby. It was hard to really grasp the fact that I was pregnant again.
Two weeks after I found out that I was pregnant again, as I was home caring for my baby girl, I noticed that I started spotting. The spotting soon turned to bleeding and then into heavy bleeding. I immediately called my husband, but he did not answer his phone. The only one I could call was my sister-in-law, because she was the only other one who knew of the pregnancy. I knew she could help because she had eight children and her own experience with a miscarriage. I called her, and through tears, told her I was bleeding. I didn’t know what to do. This was so different than my first miscarriage. There was no blood involved in that one. She told me to just remain calm and that I may not even be miscarrying. She said sometimes women bleed in pregnancy and that it is called implantation bleeding. This eased my mind for a couple of moments, but deep down in my heart, I knew what was happening. I hung up the phone with her, and tried to care for Chloe as best I could while dealing with the bleeding.
In a few moments, all of my hopes and dreams for this baby were dashed. As I was trying to stop the bleeding, I looked down and what I saw will forever be etched in my memory. It was a perfect little sac, filled with exactly what you see in the pictures in anatomy books. I saw my baby. Even as I write this, tears flood my eyes because of the sadness that filled my heart at that moment. There was nothing I could do about it. The baby, even if still living for a moment outside of my womb, had no chance at life. I stood there in shock, not knowing what to do with my baby. I finally got a call through to my husband, and he and I agreed I needed to dispose of the tiny sac filled with precious lost life. Jon knew wisely that it was difficult for me to see what I was seeing. There is nothing in life that prepares you for a moment like that. The baby was so tiny, so perfectly formed, yet it had no life. I really didn’t know what to do, so I stared at the baby for minutes that seemed like years, and then I flushed the toilet paper in which he/she was so lovingly wrapped. It was the only thing I could think of to do in that moment, yet it seemed wrong too (I wish I would have had the presence of mind to do something more dignified). I remember that my hands were shaking, my heart was pounding and tears washed down my face and dripped onto the floor of the bathroom. Alone I sat, wondering just how many times I would have to endure this thing called miscarriage.
This time there were no doctors, no hospitals, no ultrasounds. Just me in my bathroom alone with my lost baby and my tears. It was an altogether different experience than the first, but the pain was remarkably the same. I had lost a child, and with that, the hopes of a future with him or her. It hurt deeply. This time no one even knew of the pregnancy, except those I mentioned before. Though I felt that we needed to tell our family what I had gone through anyway. We picked up the phone and made those awful, humiliating phone calls . . . again.