Another loss... the story of our miscarriages

     People blog for a number of reasons.  I guess one of them is probably therapy.  I am writing this for myself as much as for anyone else.  It is something I need to write.  Please bear with me...

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     I have written a little bit in the past about our miscarriages.  We have nine living children, but God saw fit, for one reason or another, to birth five more into heaven.  I've just experienced the fifth one this week, so I've been spending a lot more time thinking about this than I normally would.

Jesus snuggling Infant by Jean Keaton.  We have purchased several of her prints for our home.  You may purchase Jean's art at Jean Keaton Inspired Art.

Our First Loss - Unexpected Trauma

     First, let me tell you about my very first miscarriage.  It happened in 2001.  We already had four children, and we had just been convicted to trust God with the size of our family.  God had shown us that the very words "Birth Control" meant that we were taking control of whether or not to birth and we were convicted that God gives life (Job 10:12,  1 Samuel 2:6, Psalm 139:13-16) and that children are a blessing (Psalm 127:3-5) and that He alone has the authority to decide when or if a life should begin. (This is a personal conviction and something that God has convicted us about. We believe that this is something we each need to pray about and wrestle with.)
     I didn't know anyone personally that had gone through a miscarriage.  It wasn't something I thought about very often.  I had four healthy children, and it wasn't very likely that I would lose one.  I had no history and there was none that I knew of in my family.
     Then, we rejoiced when we found out that #5 was on the way.  Excitement mounted as we picked out names and got out maternity clothes.  We talked about whether it would be a boy or girl as we now had two of each.  Then, one day at 14 weeks, I started spotting.  I called the midwife and she said it could be a number of things and just keep an eye on it.  It could be the beginning of a miscarriage, or something that would just clear up and everything might be fine.  But it wasn't.  The bleeding increased and the cramps started.  I was in denial.  A miscarriage could not happen to me.  It had to be something else.  But when it was obvious that it was a miscarriage and that we were losing our precious little baby, I had no idea what to expect.
     When I had heard about people having a miscarriage before, I just assumed that they just weren't pregnant anymore. I never really thought about what happened to the baby or where it went.  Maybe they weren't even pregnant to begin with? No one told me that you are a mother, even if you lose the baby.  You go into labor, you have contractions, the baby is birthed, along with the amniotic sac and placenta and all of the other "products of conception".  No one told me about the back pain and the pain that radiates through your abdomen and thighs. No one told me about the nausea and hemmorrhaging that were possible.  It all came as a major and disappointing shock.  Why hadn't someone told me?
     I find it very frustrating that miscarriage is a taboo topic in our society.  No one wants to talk about it.  When it happens to women who have not ever experienced it before, they feel like they've been sucker punched.  There's not even much information on the internet about how to get through one naturally.  I've had emails from women who have found my website about miscarriage and asked me what to expect.  We don't like it, so we ignore it.  When a woman goes to the doctor or hospital and finds out she's lost her baby, the first thing they suggest is a D and C.  Let's do surgery and just get rid of everything - then you won't have to deal with it at home.  I thank God that He created our bodies to deal with this loss.  As our bodies prepare to give birth, our mind has time to adjust and heal. It's part of the plan.
     As the news got out that we had miscarried and lost the baby, we were met with mixed reactions. Women who had had miscarriages truly understood and as their eyes met mine, they knew.  And they passed their strength and understanding to me through that one look.  Others, who were as clueless as I had been, said they were sorry.  Some even said it was "for the best".  Others voiced their opinion that we already had enough children and God must not want us to have any more.  And then there was the comment, "Well, at least you have other children."  That cut to the heart.  It is the equivalent to walking up to a widow at her husband's funeral and saying, "Forget about your husband. You can always get married again."
     As time passed and I tried to make sense of everything, I understood that it happened for a reason, but I didn't know what that reason was. I mourned for a very long time.  I cried myself to sleep many nights, for a long time.
     We felt like the baby was a boy, and we named him Jonathan Michael.  It was Feb. 22nd and every year on that day, we celebrate his short life.
     Finally, I figured out that God was testing us.  When we said we trusted Him with the size of our family, did we mean just when He was adding to it -- or did we trust Him when He was subtracting?  That must be it.  And for a long time, something inside my mind nagged at me.  It told me that "God took my baby". I felt like I was being punished for something.
     The next year, we got pregnant again, and we had a healthy baby girl as the snow gently fell one December evening.  It was a rough delivery though.  I had not healed emotionally, and I could not let go of the nagging thought that God had taken one baby, what if He takes this one?

Our Second Loss - Letting Go

     The next year, we found that we were expecting. I breathed a sigh of relief as we passed the 14 week mark.  I felt like we were "home free".  Then at 16 weeks, there was that pink tinge on the toilet paper.  The pink tinge turned to spotting and then bleeding and I knew that God was about to take another one.   I didn't want to let go.  The spotting continued for a week.  I would not give in to the fact that I was going to lose my baby and was in major denial.  Finally, on the 7th night of bleeding, I went to bed and slept sound.  I had a dream.  I saw a baby girl.  She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't understand her.  I kept asking her to repeat it.  Finally, about the third time, I heard her.  She was saying, "Say good-bye Mommy".  "Say good-bye.  You have to say good-bye."  I knew I was holding onto something that wasn't meant to be. I told her I was sorry and I told her good-bye and I would see her again.  The next day, the miscarriage completed.  It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, 2003.  We named her Katie Faith, and we put an ornament for her on the Christmas tree.
     My faith actually increased through the losses.  I learned to trust God, but at the same time, in the back of my mind, I didn't trust Him.  Just when I thought I could trust Him, he pulled the rug out from under me. Each time, I came to terms with the loss and grew closer to God and was comforted that HE knew all things and that He was the potter and I was the clay.  He loved me and mourned with me.  But how could I know that He wouldn't do this to me again?
     When I got pregnant again, we went to a fertility specialist.  He told me that my miscarriages were most likely chromosomal.  Something in the baby had not developed properly and it couldn't survive.  I had a healthy baby after my first loss, so it was not something that was likely to repeat.  It "just happens".  In fact, 10-15% of pregnancies end in miscarriage.  It's not that rare.  But so far with that pregnancy, everything looked good.
     And it was.  We had a healthy little boy followed by a healthy little girl the next year.  We now had 7 children on this side of heaven - and 2 on the other side.

Our Third Loss - Earlier than before

     Our baby had just turned one and we had a positive pregnancy test. Then, again, the Saturday before Thanksgiving 2007, we had an early miscarriage at just 9 weeks.  We placed the perfectly formed, 1" long body of our baby in a silver heart shaped box and buried Sean Emmanuel in the flower garden amongst the Forget me Nots.  Five days later, as the Nation bowed to give thanks, we gave thanks for the new treasure we had stored up in heaven.

Our Fourth Loss - Did we lose a baby?

     The following year, we got pregnant again.  As we were planning a trip to Connecticut for my niece's wedding, the spotting started.  We didn't want to miss the wedding.  Three of the kids were to be in it and we really felt like we should go.  A sonogram showed a "blighted ovum".  This is when a fertilized egg implants in the uterus, and the sac and placenta develop, but the baby doesn't.  You would think that a miscarriage with no baby would be easier, physically, but for me, it wasn't. The bleeding increased as we drove to the coast and dressed for the wedding.  I spent much of the reception in the Ladies' Room.
     The next morning, we took the kids to the Atlantic Ocean.  I stood and looked out at the endless water and thought about the babies we had lost, and about the God who created them. My pregnant belly, just beginning to "show" was a constant reminder that a tiny placenta and an empty sack still lay within me. My salty tears dropped into the salty ocean.  The ocean was powerful, but the God who made it was even more powerful.  And I was His child.  And He loved me more than I could possibly imagine.
     As I sat there staring at the waves washing up on the shore, and my children marveling at the vastness of it all, I pondered what this "blighted ovum" meant.  Did we lose a baby if the baby didn't form? If there was no baby, was I even pregnant?  Then the answer came that I knew all along.  We believe life begins at conception.  The moment the egg was fertilized, life began.  I imagine that is also when a person's spirit is born. Psalm 139:16 says, "Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."  God saw the unformed body of that little one and ordained her days.  They were not to be on earth, but in heaven. She will have a body in heaven - a glorious one. We left the beach and headed for home. With each stop, the miscarriage progressed.  Finally, in a rest area on Rt. 80, it completed.  My hopes and dreams for this child were now gone. I flushed what was left of my pregnancy down a public toilet.  I cried the rest of the way home. And I prayed that God would never let me go through that pain again.      I had had a dream about the baby weeks before, and when I awoke, I knew that her name was Melissa Joy.  That's what we named her, and her ornament joined the others on the tree that Christmas. On the second anniversary of the loss of Melissa, I was pregnant with what would hopefully be our 8th living child. I was out of the country at 14 weeks and woke every morning wondering if I would lose the baby before I got home.  I didn't.  She was born in December.  Almost two years later, just after my 44th birthday, our 9th was born. 

By the time she was weaned, I was feeling like we were done.  Of course, it was up to God, but I no longer had the urge to have another baby.  Our oldest was now in college, I was caring for my parents and my husband's mother.  We were in the next stage of life.  My doctor asked me at a check up if we were done and I told her it seemed to be that way.  At my next appointment, I was pregnant.

     Two days before I was 10 weeks pregnant, (At age 45 and 1 week) there it was again.  I got out of bed last Wednesday morning, went to the bathroom - pink on the toilet paper.  NO! Not THIS again! I started to cry.  I knew the odds of having a baby at 45 were low.  I knew the risk of miscarriage was high.  But I had not felt that dread I know so well - that something isn't right. I had peace that things were going to be OK.  Little did I know it was -- but not in the way I expected.
     I asked for prayer.  Friends started telling me they had spotting and had a healthy baby.  I know it happens - but it had never happened to me.  I had never had spotting that didn't end in miscarriage.  I knew. Right then, I knew.
     I took a walk up the hill and ended up in my prayer circle in the woods.  I stood in the circle sobbing and yelling at God.  "What are you doing to me?  What could I possibly learn that I haven't already learned in FOUR miscarriages?  WHY are you taking my baby? Again?  I want to see the baby.  I want to know if it is a boy or girl.  I want to know what the baby's name would have been." I cried until I had no more tears. The late afternoon sun shone through the tree tops and illuminated the spot where I was standing.  I lifted my face to the sun and felt the warmth on my face.  Then, I turned to go home. I told God if He had anything to say to me, I was listening.
     It was the first night of our Awana Program.  I knew we needed to be there, but I also knew I couldn't be there.  I needed to stay home. The bleeding had picked up and the cramps had started.  I was so tired, so I went to bed in a quiet house, all alone, while the rest of the family went to church.
     Then while I slept, I had a dream.   I was walking through a field. The grass was knee high and blowing in the breeze. I looked up and saw an old church. There was a stone step in front of the church, and there was a baby boy sitting on it. He was probably about 9 months old. He had blonde hair and big blue eyes. He was laughing, cooing and smiling. Then he started waving at me. As I approached and started to bend down to pick him up, I looked at the church again and I knew it. It was the old Fairview Church on the hill at Porter Creek in Kentucky. The church where my great great great grandfather, Andrew Porter, an old fashioned Methodist Circuit Riding Minister, had worshipped. His son, Stephen, had built the church and was its first Pastor. It was Andrew and Stephen Porter's church. That's why he was there he communicated to me... So I would know his name. Andrew Stephen. He said he had to go to heaven because Jesus had a special job for him to do. He said he knew I didn't understand right now, but I would some day. He waved again and said bye bye. I told him it was ok for him to go. We wanted to hold him and watch him grow up, but if Jesus needed him, we would see him again when we get there.
I awoke and I was at peace. God had answered every question I had asked. I saw my baby. He was a boy. His name was Andrew Stephen. What did I have to learn that I had not learned in four previous losses? I knew that too. (See my next post - What it took me five miscarriages to learn)
     The next morning, I just felt like I needed to know what we were facing.  The spotting had gone from pink to brown to watery red and back to brown.  Then it stopped.  Then it started again.  I had never seen this pattern before.  I just needed to know.
     I called and got an appointment with an OB practice,  I explained what was happening and they said they could see me when I got there.  When we walked in the office, the receptionist told me they had canceled my appointment and wanted me to go across the street to the Women's Hospital and they would see me there.
     We went in and registered and were taken back to triage.  It was a few minutes after 11 am.  They gave me a gown and said they'd be back.  It seemed like forever as we sat watching the clock.  I already knew the baby was gone.  I just needed to know what to expect.
     Forty minutes later someone came in.  They needed bloodwork to see what my hcg level was.  After trying two different veins unsuccessfully, they called the lab.  Another wait.
     Finally a guy came in from lab and tried a different vein and drew 3 tubes of blood.  After a couple of jokes, he was gone.  We went back to watching the clock.  I wished we had stayed home.
     A while later, a woman came in and said she was there to do a sonogram.  She wheeled my bed down the hall and into the sonogram room.  Mike followed and stood by the door.  She said she wasn't allowed to tell me anything.  I told her I knew I was miscarrying.  I watched her face for any sign.  There were none. She clicked and measured and rolled the wand across my belly.  Mike watched from behind her. It seemed like an eternity - poked and prodded - and in the dark.
     When we were back in triage, I asked Mike what he saw.  He saw nothing.  (A father who has seen no less than 20 sonograms in 14 pregnancies - and who had worked on imaging software at a previous job - is pretty skilled in knowing what is on the screen.)  No heart beat, no baby.  She measured the sack and ovaries.  Checked my kidneys. That was all.
     "Blighted ovum".  Again.  They said it was rare.  They said I would probably never have another one.  I am always one to defy the odds...
     Sometime after 2:00 pm, a doctor came in.  I had never seen her before.  She asked me questions to ease the blow.  When did the spotting start?  What did it look like.  Then she told me that the sonogram showed an empty sack.  Before she could say the words, I said them.  "Blighted Ovum".  She looked surprised.  Most people don't know what that is.  I did. I knew it very well.  She said the sack measured 6 weeks gestation.  At 6 weeks my body realized there was no baby, and stopped growing.  It took 4 more weeks before the process began to expel what was left of the pregnancy.  Did I want a D and C or did I want to pass it on my own?  A week, maybe two.  If the miscarriage wasn't complete, call them.  Watch for high fever, heavy bleeding - all the routine warnings.  I've heard them before.  I've lived them before.  I knew what to watch for.
     I was released.  You may go - call us if you need us.
     By the time we got home, the pink and the brown turned to red.  It was like my body was given the go ahead to do what it had to do.  Cramps started and stopped.  A dull ache spread across my lower back. Pain radiated through my thighs and abdomen.  I was exhausted.  I slept.
    Friday morning I woke, hoping to just get things going and get it done.  I sat on the couch with my feet up and taught school.  I pretended like nothing was going on.  I read the story of Caesar Augustus. We talked about the senses in Science.  I checked English worksheets and told the kids we'd save Spelling Tests until Monday.  Surely this will be over by Monday?
     Saturday was a rare day with nothing on the calendar.  Nowhere to go.  Nothing to do.  This would be a perfect day to complete a miscarriage. I wrapped up in a warm flannel gown, put on a soft robe and slippers and sipped coffee while I typed out notes for my Sunday School class in case I wouldn't be able to go to church the next day.  The cramps continued, the bleeding increased.  The day came and went - I went to bed.
     Again, the family went to church.  I stayed home - with my youngest little one - not yet 2 - and Jehovah Rophi - the God who heals.
     I had a rare break from the cramps, so I got us dressed and we went for a walk - across the stream, up the hill, around the pond and into the woods - to my prayer circle.  The very circle I had stood in Wednesday afternoon, sobbing and questioning God.  This time, my heart was filled with gratitude.  For I had learned the lesson He had been trying to teach me for twelve years.  How could I have been so blind? How could I have blamed God?  How could I have been so arrogant to think it was all about me?  Now I knew.  Now, I had a thankful heart.  Two of my babies had gone to heaven at Thanksgiving time - and I didn't even see the connection.  Oh how He loves me...
     Cassie and I spent a lazy day at home.  I made us salmon and quinoa and green beans for lunch.  We lay in the hammock on the porch.  I read a book and waited.  Inside, my body worked at the job it had to do. But I was at peace.
     This morning (Monday) we got up, had breakfast and family prayer.  We talked about mutual respect for one another.  We read Ephesians 5:21 - Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.  Then we did morning chores and started school.  We got through spelling tests with a couple bathroom breaks.  I started to pass tissue.  I went back to teach Science.  Smelling and Tasting were the senses on today's agenda.  The kids worked on their worksheets.  My first grader cut her paper wrong.  I stood up to get the book to make another copy, and as I did, I felt my placenta detach from the wall of my uterus.  I ran to the bathroom - and the miscarriage completed.
     I had asked God after every loss - and at every positive pregnancy test - not to let me go through another loss.  Having just completed my fifth loss today, I can say that I serve a loving God and I am so thankful that I finally "get it".  Keep reading to find out what it took me five miscarriages to learn...