Lord, make me a rainbow
I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with You
when she stands under my colors
~The Band Perry, “If I Die Young”
Three years later, I remember rolling over in bed one morning in September & I gasped & held up the pregnancy test, saying “I think I am pregnant!” That little pink line flung open doors of my heart that I did not know existed & love flooded through my veins & heart until the little heart inside me also began beating with its own thump-thump rhythm.
Three years later, I remember lying back on the table, warm jelly & cold equipment pressed to my belly. My husband & I clasped hands through our smiles of joy, laughing over the tiny bean of life we created. Weeks of morning sickness & maternity jeans & a stroller chosen. A few scares, but always a reassuring heartbeat on the screen. We broke the happy news to family & friends.
Three years later, I remember the terror gripping my heart as I stared at the blood, freely flowing. The fear in my voice as we rushed to the emergency room that dreary & cold Saturday morning, fitting for the events to take place. My tears poured as the doctor confirmed that our baby, my baby that I had come to love so fiercely, was gone. The cramps & contractions ripped through my lower half as my heart split in two, but I laid back on the operating table & thanked both God & the doctor for the medicine to drag me under, away from the pain.
Three years later, I remember lying on the couch with a laptop perched on top of blankets & pillows. My fingers frozen as my mind wheeled, but my heart spilled onto the pages of the Internet & I labeled it “Empty.” I was empty. Alone. Terrified. Horrified. Angry. Hours spent in the shower, sobbing my grief & anguish despite a doctor’s assurance that the tiny life I carried had been very sick & this was “for the best.”
Time passed, snow fell heavy one weekend & three weeks later, we found ourselves expecting another baby. With steady joy but unsteady hearts, my husband & I relived pregnancy but this time, the same doctor that placed her hand upon my tear-filled cheek in the emergency room stood at the foot of the bed, holding my newly-born son. I cradled him & felt that he was the greatest gift, bought at the highest price. Without losing our first baby, we would not have our beautiful, wild boy.
But it’s this same truth of the heart that turns my thoughts to my first baby, wondering if I am the only one that remembers that sweet life, cherishes the moments, rather than negating the loss for the gift of Harrison. Maybe it’s simply the heart of a mother to count all her little ones the same.
{ 51 comments… read them below or add one }
I too have the same exact feelings. Except I had my dear Olivia before I lost a pregnancy. I lost twins when Olivia was 11 month old and I still think of them every day. I often wonder if people “count” them as my children. I surely do. Hugs to you, as you remember your first baby.
You’re not the only one. All pregnancies count. I lost my first one, and just until recently I allow myself not to be sad on what would have been the due date. I have one healthly child now, and another on the way…because of my loss there is always an added fear with my pregnancies, but oh so much joy too.
All I have to offer is big giant hugs from Canada.
We will never forget. Ever. (hugs)
I still count my third pregnancy as my child. I lost the baby at 12 weeks, never having known I was pregnant until the blood starting flowing. Without being 20 weeks, pregnancy-related emergencies are not sent to L&D, so when one visits the ER with a suspected loss, one waits in the ER with everyone else. Bleeding. For hours. Lightheaded. But unless you pass out, you sit. My experience was horrific, likely worse than the pain and baby and blood loss itself. I’ll never forget the experience. I’ll never forget that baby who never had a chance. And here it is 8 years later and still. Emptiness, even with my son born years later. Still I think of what ifs.
I am virtually hugging you (way too long and probably slightly inappropriately sniffing your hair) because I remember.
My first miscarriage was 17 1/2 years ago. My second was 14 1/2 years ago. My third was 9 years ago. I always remember them, my lost babies. Not in a morbid way, but in a “what if” kind of way. I have read many essays/posts/books on miscarriage. This is the first one that ever really encapsulated how I feel. So, today, I will remember my babies — all 6 of them! Thank you.
Beautiful, BA. This post made me cry. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
This baby was important, BA. Very important and most definitely should be counted.
This is beautiful.
I miscarried at just nine weeks, about a year and a half before the birth of my first son. We’d had a great ultrasound the week before, but were waiting until I was through the first trimester to share the news. The sadness, anger and anxiety that followed were so intense, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about the experience with anyone other than my husband. For months and months, I carried what felt like a gigantic bruise on my soul.
When I became pregnant again, I was both thrilled and terrified. It was the fear that finally moved me to talk about the baby I had lost. The more women I spoke with, the more I learned that the connection mothers feel to their babies, no matter how briefly they may have held them inside, is powerful and eternal.
When my second son, Samuel, was born two months ago on the EDD of the baby I’d lost, I was so grateful I had people in my life who could understand the slight bittersweetness of the day.
I think that Sam’s birthday will always be a day when I celebrate the lives of the TWO babies I was blessed enough to carry, even if only for a short while.
My first pregnancy was so incredibly brief that I sometimes do forget about it. But every November 8th, when my mom reminds me that it’s my Nana’s birthday (she would’ve been 101 this year), I realize with a start that it could have been someone else’s birthday, too. Because November 8th was my due date. And even though I got pregnant again the very next month and, on December 3rd, delivered a healthy baby girl who’s now a happy, thriving toddler, I also pause for a moment every November 8th to remember. And think about what might have been.
Amen, BA. Amen. The loss of a baby is never easy, and though the pain does get better, I don’t think it ever truly disappears. I know the babies I miscarried will never be forgotten.
Every little one counts, for they are the product of your love and God’s divine creation. I lost Rylan’s twin at 8 weeks and I still feel a pang in the midst of laughing and playing with him…how great it would have been to have 2 such precious, sweet, happy, loving little boys.
With miscarriage so fresh in my mind and in my heart, only 6 weeks ago. I can say I hope I never forget that sweet life and that sound of the babies heart beat on that screen, I wish I had it with me now so I could remember. Our angel babies are waiting for us in the hands of their loving father and I cannot wait to scoop him/her up and hug and kiss those cheeks to my hearts content. When our family is complete and whole again! Prayers today as you remember that sweet one and love on your boy here.
I sit here typing through my tears as I too remember my little one, taken from me too soon. I have dreams of the what ifs and the could’ves & should’ves but I know deep down that what happened was meant to be. I have grown from it and helped to support others that have been through the same hardship. Thank you for writing this and sharing with us…it’s what makes you so very special. Hugs to you BA, great big squishing hugs.
I’ve read your blog for close to a year now and I can’t recall if you’ve ever mentioned your religous beliefs but I wanted to offer a book for a rainy day. I recently read “Heaven is for Real” and it opened my mind to a whole new perspective on loss. I believe in Heaven and always have but this book was very special. Lots of hugs for you my Southern friend.
What an amazing post. Hugs to you and thank you for sharing your life with us and helping some of us feel not alone.
You aren’t alone. I read your blog back then & followed you on the nest. I cried for you & prayed for you. That little life will always be remembered & adored. Today, my tears & prayers are with you again.
I get it…I really do…sometimes I feel like I am the only one who remembers that first precious baby, with us for such a short time, and the agony afterwards…I still remember, and I tell my daughters who came years after that one day we will meet that special little soul in Heaven again, but in the meantime, they have a special angel watching over them…a big brother or sister. xo
Beautifully written. I followed your story here and on the boards when you lost Harpie. I’d just had the first of my two miscarriages, and your candid words resonated with me then just as they do now as the mama to my longed-for son.
Just yesterday I cleaned out my bathroom junk drawer. There they were–3 saved pee sticks. (Yes, call me gross for saving them, but they are in baggies, preserving the first elated mommy moments I had.) Each “pregnant” line is a different shade, and I know which baby they correspond to. I held them all in my hand yesterday and gently tucked all 3 of them back in a safe place. 3 sticks, two babies to snuggle. The one I lost will never be forgotten. I can’t even stand the thought to toss that stupid stick in the trash and keep the other two because it is the only proof I have my angel ever existed. I still ache. And as January 16 rolls around when my EDD would have been–maybe marking a 1st birthday, I will probably cry. Many hugs my sweet friend.
I’m so sorry sweetie. I miscarried this year and have been unable to conceive yet. I want a baby so bad, but I’m beginning to think it won’t happen. Thank you for giving me a bit of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel, and a beautiful life to live vicariously through.
elizabeth,
God works in mysterious ways. It took us 2 years to conceive the first time, and I miscarried at 14 weeks. We were told a few months later that I would NEVER be able to conceive again, and if I did, I wouldn’t carry to term. But GOD had other plans… I was already 6 weeks pregnant when they told me that!
Keep the faith.
Elizabeth, I miscarried one at 6 weeks, and after nearly 2 years of barrenness, we were told by a fertility specialist that we would likely need in-vitro fertilization to conceive. A few months later, we did conceive on our own. Less than 2 years later, our second baby was born. I remember feeling so barren and sad and that babies would not happen for me, and now am so blessed. Your time will come!
the memories still so fresh, even after 3 years. November 24th, 2008 at 11:04am was when I called my dad to rush me to the ER. The pain of having to sit in the ER for 5 hours, bleeding, until a nurse saw me, is still fresh. Then having the sit, bleeding, for another 2 hours in a cubicle until a doctor saw me. I still wonder to this day, if they had seen me sooner, if I would be hugging my first child…but then I wouldn’t have my Jonas….
Thinking of you and praying for you during this tough time.
I am experiencing a loss this week and although I have a wonderful 2 year old to snuggle and keep my spirits up, I can’t help but mourn for the big sister she could be. I was thrilled with the prospect of my 2 summer babies, born in the same month. As much as I tried to keep my heart guarded, this new baby had already found it’s way into our life.
Thank you for your words and inspiration and reassurance that I’m not alone in feeling like this.
I experienced 2 losses in 2010 and still haven’t been able to bring home my miracle baby. You give me hope that one day this dream will become a reality for my husband and I. Everything about my pregnancies are still remembered and I will never forget about my 2 angel babies. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Amen. You are a mother of two. I am a mother of four. Two in heaven and two here with me. We keep those in heaven in our hearts until we someday will see them again.
I still remember my 5 babies (4 pregnancies) that I lost to miscarriage. I carry them in my heart just like I know you carry Harpie. It’s a club we never wanted to belong to, but yet we have earned the membership. It’s a high price to pay. But without losing those babies I wouldn’t have my two precious kiddos who I do get to cuddle, hold, and love. I think we love our kids a little different after suffering miscarriages. Time has blurred my memory of exact dates, but moments of each of those pregnancies are deep in my memory. Little pieces of each of those babies shape me to be who I am now.
hugs to you!
You are not alone. All of our children own a piece of our hearts. The ones who leave us early take that piece with them and we are forever changed by them.
I look forward to the day when I get to meet and hold the baby that I lost in my arms.
What a beautifully written post. While I can’t say I know what you’ve been through, I can only imagine that what you are feeling is normal. Everyone wonders “what if” or “how come” but take joy in knowing that you have a handsome face that calls you Mom each and every day.
I, too, lost a baby 3 years ago on November 26. 3 weeks later, I found out I was pregnant with my beautiful daughter. Like you, I struggle with the loss, all the while knowing that it was necessary to have my little girl. Big hugs today. Mamas never forget any of their little babies.
I always remember my lost little one at this time of year too. I got that thrilling positive pregnancy test the day after Thanksgiving 2008 and lost the baby just after New Years. It doesn’t matter if it was “for the nest” medically, we will always miss them.
Your story helped me through the darkest moments I had this past summer when I miscarriaged. I’ve been following your blog for a while and it wasn’t until I came home from the hospital the first time that I read your entire miscarriage story. I cried through every post and I knew exactly how you were feeling.
Thank you for sharing your strength
Remember it like yesterday-
Just beautiful..brought me to tears. As I mentioned to you before, your posts regarding Harpie helped me so very much when I lost our first baby at 10.5 weeks on 10/13/11. It is still incredibly hard, and I know I will never forget our sweet baby. May 6th (our due date) will be extremely difficult, as will the holidays. I hate when people tell me, “at least you know you can get pregnant” in response to finding out I lost our first baby. It’s not like a goldfish that I’m trying to replace. I think it takes going through the horrific experience for anyone to truly realize how painful it is to lose the baby you never held.
Thank you again for sharing your story; It helps more than you may realize.
Beautiful, just beautiful. Here I sit, 4 years after my loss, crying from your beautiful post. Our precious baby was lost at almost 13 weeks and forever lives in my heart. I can relive each moment of the pregnancy in my mind and heart. I still mention my “May baby” when I speak of my precious children. I too was blessed with a baby a little over a year after my loss. Our precious Caleb was our rainbow after our storm. Thank you for sharing your heart and your post <3
I’ve read your blog since the beginning, you were on 1st Tri before me and then after me with Harry. When I went through my own miscarriage I turned back to some of your most honest posts. I thank you for your honesty, know that your hardships have helped others through theirs.
I think of Harpie often. I have a beautiful little painting above my stove – it’s a tree, bare of leaves, with a little red bird sitting in it. It reminds me of you, & of Harpie. Your babe will never be forgotten, for there are many who love you & Harpie both. ((hugs))
I started following your blog in Oct 2008, shortly after I found out I was pregnant. I was excited to read about others who were going through the same phases of pregnancy as me. At the time my heart ached for you when I read about your miscarriage and I said a quck prayer to God asking that he keep my baby safe. At the time I didn’t truly understand the pain and emptyness you were feeling until my doctors appointment 2 short weeks later when she said there wasn’t a heartbeat.. I later went on to get pregnant with a sweet girl who will be 2 in March.
Here’s to thoughts of rememberance to the babies we never got to snuggle and hugs to the ones that make us laugh on a daily basis.
It always makes me so sad when someone tells a woman who has lost a child that it was “for the best.” The best for whom? While Heaven may be a beautiful place, no one wishes their loved ones were there rather than on earth with us. I have not experienced a miscarriage (one chemical pregnancy, the cycle before Sully was conceived), but my heart is with each and every woman who has to experience a loss than, unfortuately, so many others brush away.
That baby counts. That baby matters. I remember reading about your miscarriage with tears streaming down my face. I don’t know you IRL, but that blog post really affected me and made me feel for you.
I thought of my miscarriage this past June. Over a year later & just thinking of that day infuriates me. My visit to my then ob/gyn was pretty much a comedy of errors, assurances that they would do everything they could to save our baby, followed by my doctor calling me while we waited for a cab to pick us up, and my doctor somehow thought it was appropriate to start the call with “You know you aren’t pregnant, right?” Yeah… I’ve since found a new ob/gyn practice that I love and I gave birth to a beautiful & wonderful little girl.
This is beautiful. My mom lost two before my sister, my brother, and me. One of them was born and died shortly after, he would be 42 now and my mom still remembers his birthday. She sometimes thinks it is silly but I assure her that he is just as much her son and I her daughter. One day she’ll get to hug one for the first time and the other again.
there are no words for losing a child… so i won’t try any. you spoke beautifully, and i just want to send you a big hug.
a momma never forgets…beautiful post my friend.
Thank you for writing this. I sometimes wonder if those that have lost a pregnancy and gone on to have another, if they still think about their loss. I reached out to you after my second miscarriage two years ago and you helped me so much, I will never forget that. Unfortunately, I’ve have had two more miscarriages after that one, and I’m still waiting for my baby. I wish you hadn’t known that pain, but I appreciate you writing this and giving acknowledgement to the one you lost. It means so much to the ones still in this battle. xoxo
Oh, and I’d like to add that they are very much my children…they may be the only ones I have. So please continue to count Harpie as yours, and even if no one else does, that’s what matters the most…that you still count him.
Loved this post. Just found your blog (through our twitter conversation…twittersation? with Erica Bukva) and clicked immediately on this post.
There are so, so many of us with angel babies. Hugs.
Just found your blog through another, and read this post. Honestly, I haven’t thought about my miscarriage for a very long time. It will be 21 years this Labor Day. I know….how crazy was that? The remembered pain and anguish is still so vibrant, but I can’t imagine living my life without the daughter who was born a year later. God knew she belonged with us…her calm older brother, her paternal grandfather’s artistic abilities and her grandmother’s sassiness. One of my children is waiting for me in heaven, and I look forward to the day, I can hold them. Thank you for posting!
Just wanted to let you know, that you are NOT the only one who remembers your first baby. I very much remember Harpie. I was new to BOTB and new to TTCing and found so much in common with you (being nearly 6ft tall, severe asthma, heart problems…a shameless passion for GG) but you were a different you then, and I was a dirty lurker too afraid to say hello. But I rejoiced for you and then cried for you. I remember you shopping for bumblerides pre pregnancy, I remember vividly the weeks of your pregnancy, and I remember your account of the D&C like it was yesterday. I don’t often read here, but I check in from time to time and I still think of you, and Harpie, whenever I see cute little bird graphics. Or pottery barn Penelope blankets. Or hear the name Caroline. Because in my head that’s Harpie’s name- for whatever reason, I always picture a sweet curly, sandy-blonde little girl named Caroline waiting for you in heaven. And whether or not that’s true, doesn’t change the fact that Harpie was real, Harpie mattered, and Harpie IS remembered. <3
Went back and read this again today and it hits home so hard. Harpie was due one day after my daughter was born. I remember being pregnant and reading “Empty”, remembering my first miscarriage of an unplanned pregnancy before my husband and I were married—a few years before getting (intentionally!) pregnant with our daughter, and my heart both broke for you and felt hope in the knowledge that most women who miscarry lose only one….one too many, but nonetheless one. When she was 18 months old we decided to expand our little family…and 2 miscarriages later, I was pregnant for the third time since my daughter’s birth. I absolutely lost it rereading “I cradled him & felt that he was the greatest gift, bought at the highest price.” My beautiful, perfect 8 week old boy is sleeping next to me, and I wouldn’t trade him for the universe, but oh, how I wish all my babies were here with me, growing and just as perfect.
Thanks for putting my heart into words.