Friday, July 8, 2011

maybe this will be healing

     I wrote this several weeks ago. I wasn't ready to share it then, and told myself I may never share those feelings... but I wrote it for me. And since that day, I've crossed the paths of many women who have lost a child, some early in their pregnancy, some in the same situation as me, and some who were months into their pregnancy and showing. It's like this under ground world that I didn't know existed. People don't really talk about it. And why would they? It's painful. And most people, don't want to know.

     So I re-read my words today, weeks later, and I'm glad I wrote it. It helps me to remember, even if it was painful. It makes it real, and not so easily forgotten. And I have decided to share it. I have nothing to be ashamed of, and my goal is not to have people feel sorry for me. It's to share a story that is usually not told. Maybe someone will find comfort in my words, know that it happens and it's okay to feel unsure of your feelings.

     I'm still struggling internally with some questions, but I do believe it was a child. And one of the names we said we loved if it was a boy, was Jude. I like to believe it was a boy, I just have this feeling. And I even listen to the song "hey Jude" to make me smile sometimes.

     I will always love the name Jude, and every time I hear it I will think of our baby. And who knows, in the future if we have a boy, we may name him Jude.

So here is the journal entry I wrote the day after my hospital visit...

Maybe this will be healing.

     They say if you don’t deal with your feelings at the time of grief that they will keep coming back up to the surface, even years later. I’m pretty good at pushing emotions away, yesterday, is a perfect example of that. Any person who saw me probably thought I was visiting someone else at the hospital, except the band on my arm, which was a dead giveaway. 

     I laughed, I joked, I gave my son lots of kisses and I did everything not to think of what that shot was for. Maybe this is how everyone acts at the hospital when it’s something bad…

I tried hard not to think about how I wanted Joel there. I tried not to think about how some radical religious group somewhere thought of this as murder. I tried not to think about the names me and Joel picked out when those two days of hope happened.

I thought for sure I was pregnant, I could feel it, and I was.

It was an ectopic pregnancy.

     I cried at the doctor’s office when he confirmed it. It was so final. I cried slow, controlled tears, with a small apology. Men always look so uncomfortable when a woman cries… my doctor, who looked sad himself, told me it’s okay to be sad. I couldn’t bare to look at Joel. I know he was hurting too, and it would have made my semi-controlled crying spell much more ugly if I looked him in the eye.

     I really had the most mellow, calm, and caring doctor for all of this. Dr. Crouch will always have a special place in my heart. After the tears, I apologized and asked him to say whatever he had just said again, because I was in my own little world. And he gladly repeated himself, with as much patience and care as he did the first time.

     After our second meeting, an internal ultrasound, and three blood tests later, I was injected with a small dose of chemotherapy to kill the fast growing cells in my body.

     I’m so thankful I didn’t have to have surgery (so far so good). It takes several weeks, and several more blood tests to confirm it worked. I just want this to be over.

I’m thankful yesterday is gone and today is here.

I have lots of questions for God, many that even if he answered maybe beyond my understanding.

     Was this a child? Will he/she be there when I’m called home? Will he/she be an infant and I able to raise this child in heaven?

     Joel, normally, the talker of us, doesn’t want to talk about this. I think it’s too hard for him. And me, normally, the “leave me alone, I just need some time”… wants to talk about this.

     Joel got really sick yesterday with a stomach virus, so bad that he ended up at the hospital too (he is much better, I am happy to report). He couldn’t be there with me, so my mother, who was supposed to be our babysitter, ended up taking me, and Jack tagged along.

     Thinking I’d be in and out within an hour, I didn’t have a problem bringing Jack, he could be my distraction. Let’s just say we got there at 12:20 and didn’t leave Dayton until around 5 or 6pm.

It was a very… long… day.

     My mother, however, is always up for talking… so we talked. She told me she didn’t think there were ages in Heaven, and that we didn’t have spouses either. She also said there’s no tears, so do we forget about those who are not there? That was her question. She thinks it was a child, and he/she will be there, waiting for us.

I hope there are ages in Heaven, I hope we’re all the age we want to be, and the age that we want others to be.

 I’m not sure what I believe. I just know I’m trying not to imagine a child.  It’s easier this way. 


  1. Allison TrowbridgeJuly 8, 2011 at 2:26 PM

    i just finished reading the book "heaven is for real." i don't know if you've read it, or heard of it, but i instantly recalled a section of it while reading your post. based on a true story, this book is a series of tellings from a little boy-he's between the ages of 3 and 5 in the book-who goes to heaven and comes back while on his deathbed and in surgery from appendicitis. at one point, a year or so after his surgery and his visit to heaven, he's sitting with him mom as she does bills and he is coloring. he quietly says, "mom, i miss my sister." his mom responds by telling him that his older sister is in her room and that he can go in there to see her. he responds to this by saying that he wasn't talking about that sister, but his other one. the one who ran up to him and hugged him in heaven. he said, "she was so beautiful, mommy. she had dark hair. and looked just like you." his mother was in awe at what her son had just told her; she had an early miscarriage in between the birth of him and his older sister. and this miscarriage was never spoken of in their house, especially to a four year old.
    i genuinely believe that god loves every child- no matter the age. and that's baby's going to recognize you, and you'll recognize him, in heaven. i think that's a guaranteed hope :)

  2. You just made me cry... good tears though... promise

    I've been told several times I need to read that book, it will be next on my reading list. Thank you for taking the time to share that with me Allison, you have no idea how much your words just impacted me.

  3. Thank you for being so brave. I know that other women out there will read this and realize that a loss isn't something to be ashamed of or hide. It is something that so many women go through, yet often don't deal w/publicly. My mom had an ectopic pregnancy before me, and he I am, so don't give up hope on having more. You're in my thoughts and prayers.

  4. I think it is so wonderful you are talking about this. Many women don't talk about it, because they haven't dealt with the grief or they don't want to remember it. But I do think it's healthy to makes us better people to remember the worst times in our lives. It makes us appreciate everything we have that is good so much more.
    I truly believe every being that is conceived, no matter how early, is a human being, just in a weird stage without form. We all were there at one point. I believe heaven is different for each individual. I believe that the things that made you the most happy will be there in heaven waiting on you. I think that God instills these desires, likes and even dislikes deep in our soul and they had to have formed from some place else...perhaps there before we traveled to earth. I know many religions try to tell you exactly what will be there, but there is no way to know for sure. We all have our own version of heaven...and for me, even my passed on pets will be there with every person I loved.

    Keep on being vocal and trying to help others. I would love for you to share your story with the group Worthy I am starting...someday when YOU are ready. IN the process your healing will exceed what you could imagine just from helping another.

  5. I'm so sorry for what you are going through. It's such a confusing, sad time. We went through a miscarriage and infertility and it just sucks. Deal with it the way that you need to and find people who will talk with you. It was the hardest thing for me, when time had passed and people thought I should be *over* it, and I was still sad. Hang in there. Time does heal a bit at a time.

  6. I am so sorry for your loss.
    God Bless you for posting this. I really think it's an integral part of the healing process. It was for me, at least.
    We've lost 2 babies to miscarriage: the 1st one at 16 weeks, the other at 6 weeks. I blogged about each experience, and it was well worth it. And over here, we certainly do believe that it's a true child, waiting in the arms of Jesus until we're called Home.
    I imagine your sweet Jude is doing the same, watching over you.

    I'm sorry again, and I hope you continue to record your thoughts & heal from them.

  7. Thanks for the support everyone.

    And Erin & Sharon, thank you for sharing with me... I cannot believe how many women have felt this, been through this.

  8. i just found you through "tb"...
    what a beautiful, raw and vulnerable post. thank you so much for sharing your feelings.
    it is so true. the more we hold in, the more it swells up to the point where it has to be let out. it is such a long and windy road, losing...
    i have had 5 losses in a row. some women say it gets easier...i don't really agree. but then again, i'm still here...
    i know how hard it is especially when it initially don't know how to feel. i didn't feel human, hell i still dont feel human a lot of days. it is a battle and i just wanted you to know your post touched me. i look forward to following. you're beautiful as are your photographs.
    i also have a blog about our journey and everything in between.
    sending love and strength <3

  9. Maria, thank you for the sweet words you just wrote.

    It makes my heart swell when I see how much a total stranger can bring comfort and support to someone they never met through words & shared experience. That someone that maybe states away, cares. It makes my perception of the world that much more beautiful.

    I'm so sorry for all you've been through. You are a strong woman. I hate that we've both part of a this secret club that we both never wanted to join... but it's nice not to be alone when you get there.


  10. I wish everyday that no one would ever have to go through this. Reading your heart felt words were like reading a page out of my own book. I have survived two ectopic pregnancies.
    I hope that this will be the end of your trials and that you find the strength and peace that you deserve. I do believe that your little angel would be proud of you. If you ever feel alone or need to talk, please page me on "TB". ~hugs~

  11. Thank you Meg, and ditto... you are amazingly strong! Thank you so much for the kind words and support.


"Perhaps you will forget tomorrow the kind words you say today, but the recipient may cherish them over a lifetime." -Dale Carnegie

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