Surviving Babyloss

** This was a post I did last month on my Infertility blog. I had gotten a few questions about how to deal with the loss of a pregnancy/baby and came up with this response. This is my first time posting here. **


I never thought in all my life, that I would be a mommy to two angels. When I began trying to get pregnant I knew about the 1 in 4 statistic; how 1 in 4 women experience a miscarriage. I knew a couple who had been through it, but who imagines they too will feel the loss?

What I knew very little about and hadn't even considered was babyloss. I was afraid of the first trimester miscarriage, not birthing a baby halfway through a pregnancy. As I progressed through each month I grew more confident and sure of my body and my babies. When labor started and finished on October 12, 2011, we were forever changed. I was a mother, but not a mom. I was in shock, depressed, and broken.

And I had no idea how to move forward. Not without Michael and Alena.

In the two years and three months since they passed, I have continued blogging and have seen more women loose their children. Yes, there have been plenty (including myself) who have come out with a take-home baby or two. We are lucky and blessed for this miracle.

Even through my love and joy over my son Cooper, I remember my twins. I remember and I cry. I cry for them and me and you. For those of you who have lost what I lost - babies. Whether it was at 6 weeks, 20 weeks, or full term, those children were wanted and loved.

I've been thinking if I can help even one person going through the heartache of this loss, it would help heal me as well. So I have come up with a short list of ways to not just survive babyloss, but to come away with a scar instead of a festering open wound. How to dig your way out of the sadness and climb toward a little peace.

Please note that feeling even semi-normal again did not happen over night. It took months of effort, tears, and talking. Not everyone heals in the same fashion or time frame, but there are ways to feel better.


* Find someone or multiple people to talk to about your loss and your baby(ies). This is so important. Keeping it all inside and living through the sadness silently is not helpful. Some people don't want to burden family with the tears or feel uncomfortable talking openly to friends - this is the situation where you may need to find a good support group or therapist. You need to talk to someone who you can be completely candid with and lets you vent. The pain of losing a child is like no other and there has to be an outlet to those feelings. Personally, I found it easier to open up to close friends and family who knew what it took to conceive M & A. People who loved them and felt their own kind of loss. People I trusted. Because of this blog, I was also able to write out my deepest emotions and connect with other women who had been through not just babyloss, but also infertility. It was important for me to talk to (and with) those who could really understand my pain. Find that circle or community to support you and don't hesitate (too often) to say your child's name.

* Remember your baby. This seems like a given, but I don't mean just crying your eyes out each night on the couch (even though this will happen a LOT). I mean actively remember. Make a point of doing things for your baby - anything you can think of to honor them. It may seem like focusing on the fact that they are gone will be much harder on you, but in fact it probably won't be. You will be thinking of them non-stop anyway. One of the toughest parts of losing a baby is that you never (or for too short a time) got to parent your child. This fact was really hard for me to accept and made my heart ache intensely. The only way I could feel like I was able to be a mom to my twins, was to find ways to honor their memory. I needed to carve out a place for them in my life and my home. I needed to say their names out loud and allow them space to be alive. After all, they HAD been here. Have a necklace made, create a memory book, or donate to a charity in their name. There are lots of ways to love and parent your child, it just may not be how you ever envisioned. Doing these things will bring you a little peace and help you feel closer to your child. And it made me feel good (albeit with tears mixed in).

* Take care of yourself. This is the easiest to forget when you are in the midst of grief. I will admit that it took me a while to begin caring for myself again. After the first couple/few of weeks of crying yourself raw, eating like crap or barely at all, and sleeping fitfully - try to find bits of yourself again. Put on a little waterproof mascara and facial moisturizer. Get your hair done and perhaps go get a massage. It may feel like you are being selfish or make you feel guilty to think about pampering yourself, but it is important to your spirit. You need to remember how to live and enjoy life again. Start small if you need to, inch by inch, and be kind to yourself. Sometimes all it takes to bring you further out of a funk/depression/grief, is finding something positive to focus on. Join a gym or make a habit of taking a bubble bath each night. And don't forget to venture out into the world again when you feel ready. Being around people and out in the community can feel lonely at first (strange I know), but eventually you will find connection.

* Give yourself time to heal mentally. Don't push yourself too hard. It can be difficult to take the time you need to heal when you are still hoping to become a mom, I know. Losing a baby is not something most can get over easily or quickly. I do think there is something to be said for finding something positive to look forward to and not giving up on your dream, so there is that. But for me, I realized after my initial panic and trauma, that as much as I wanted to be pregnant again, I wasn't ready for the stress. I also wasn't really ready to give my attention to another baby. It took some time and perspective to figure this out. By 6 months, I had found the peace I needed to try again. I made sure to give myself and my babies all my love and attention for a pre-set number of days. Because I allowed myself to only think of them, I was able to feel a little better about moving on with my life without them. Even after becoming pregnant again, I made sure to make time for the twins. I won't pretend it was easy to manage all my conflicting emotions, but I am glad for the time I had.


There are probably more ways to move forward (notice I don't say move on) from babyloss, but these should hopefully provide the tools to get started. There are no hard and fast rules about figuring out how to BE without your children. There is no sense in it, nor is there a right way. You just do the best you can and know that it is okay to sit in the same spot on the couch for a week if that is what you need. Some people will find solace in sitting with the grief while others will want to feel productive and keep busy. Staying busy is okay as long as you aren't avoiding the mourning process. Ignoring the pain will most likely prolong the healing time. As long as you are okay with the time required, stay busy if that is what is best for you. Just be open to another way of finding your new normal.

Because, sadly, normal will now consist of you being a mommy to an angel. This is a hard fact to become used to.

To this day, I still struggle with this. I sill cry. I still get angry. But I am healing and finding ways to remember my firstborns. This makes me happy.

Thank you

A big thank you to Mandy, Kelly, Amy, and Rachel for sharing their stories last week for remembrance day.  I thought each story was beautiful and touching and when I lit my candle, I thought of your babies along with all the babies we celebrated that day. Thank you for sharing.  And to those who felt the losses silently, my love and thoughts were with you as well.  As I read blog post upon blog post last year in honor of the days, I was blown away all over again by this community we are all apart of. So much love, so much loss.  My heart was breaking and overflowing with pride simultaneously. 

Truly, it was a day to remember, in every way.

Remembering Butterfly

Today is a day put aside in remembrance.  A day to stop everything in our hectic lives and remember the babies we have lost.  It's a day to think of the sweet babies that were taken too soon, the pregnancies that ended before their time, and the angels born asleep.

Like Rachel, my loss took the form of an early miscarriage (I share her hatred for the term "chemical pregnancy").  My husband and I had been trying for over a year to conceive our second child.  My doctor was just getting ready to refer me to a reproductive endocrinologist.  We were trying one last month on our own.

A good friend of mine in the TTC community had just found out she was pregnant with her second child.  We'd "met" on an online forum and discovered that not only did we live in the same town, but that our children were born just two days apart.  Then we found out that they were born in the same hospital AND her mother had been my nurse!  We had talked for months about how great it would be to be pregnant together, to be "due date buddies".  When she got her BFP, I wanted so badly to follow her!  My TWW crept along.  I took a test and didn't see anything.  I posted a picture online (do all TTCers take pictures of their peesticks?  It's not just me, right?) and a few people with much better eyesight than I have been blessed with thought they saw a little something.

The next morning, I tested again.  This time I could see it too!  It was very faint, but it was positive!  My husband and I were over the moon!  It was the day before Father's Day and we were ecstatic to receive such a gift!  My friend and I were going to have both children the same age and we couldn't have been happier!

But that happiness, that heavenly feeling, was short-lived.

The day after my BFP, I took another test and was pleased to see a darker line, but disappointed that my digital test was negative.  I reminded myself that digital tests aren't a sensitive, it was probably just too early.  That afternoon, I noticed a tiny bit of spotting when I used the restroom.  I was nervous immediately, but I kept telling myself that bleeding isn't uncommon in the first trimester.  I reached out to my friend, who said the same thing.  It would be okay. It just had to be okay.

The next morning, I didn't take a test.  Maybe part of me just didn't want to know.  I felt alright, I was even having some symptoms already, and I hadn't had any more spotting overnight.  I went to work and started looking for an OB.  I called and made an appointment, even chatting anxiously with the nurse about how I'd had a little spotting and was just so nervous and excited.  She reassured me that it's normal, it's probably nothing, don't worry unless it's heavy or accompanied by cramping.

Monday afternoon I noticed a little more spotting.  By Tuesday morning I couldn't avoid it any longer, I took another test and my heart sank.  The line was light, extremely light.  I took another test, but got the same result.  In complete denial, I decided maybe they were a bad batch of tests, so I took my last remaining test, a digital.  Negative.  Tears immediately sprang to my eyes, but I pushed them back.  I picked up my phone and called into work, then called the OBs office where I'd scheduled an appointment. They agree to have me come in for a blood test.  The day seemed to go in slow motion.  Drive to the doctor's office.  Don't look at the pregnant bellies.  Don't look at the adorable toddlers and infants in the waiting room.  Go to the lab.  Have blood drawn.  Go home. Put feet up. Drink water.  Ignore the cramping.  Don't think about the bleeding--it's bleeding now, not just spotting.  Go online, read message of support from my friends--Don't give up!  It's not over!  Go to bed to escape.

The next morning, I texted my boss telling him I'd be late.  I waited for a call, but I didn't make it very far before I cracked and called to beg for my results, even though I already knew.

"We got your test results in.  You were never pregnant. Your HCG level was only 3.  If you had been pregnant, it would still be higher."

 I couldn't even think.  I saw those perfect pink lines.  I felt the symptoms, the breast tenderness, the gas, I FELT PREGNANT.  She had to be wrong.

I realized later that she was.  It was a callous thing to say, and obviously not true.  False negative pregnancy tests aren't possible.  She only managed to make me feel worse as I dissolved into tears at a loss she didn't even recognize.

I told my husband and my mother.  I cried.  I told my son, who wasn't quite 2 1/2, but knew mommy had a baby in her belly and knew mommy was sad.  I cried.  I got up, got dressed, drove to work.  I cried.  I told my boss.  I cried.  I worked, desperate to concentrate on anything else.  I cried any time anyone asked how I was.  They didn't know, but I cried, so I had to explain. As the hours and days went on, I found that sharing helped. I ended up sharing my loss with more people than I'd been able to share my joy with.

Many people probably didn't understand my grief. I had only known I was pregnant for four days.  But I wanted a baby so badly, and as soon as I saw those two pink lines I wanted THAT baby.  I was devastated that I would never know my baby, never get to see my baby grow and learn.  My heart broke to think I'd never hold that baby in my arms. 

Since I didn't know if my baby was a boy or a girl, I've always simply thought of him or her as Butterfly.  I've always adored butterflies and they've always held a great deal of significance to me.  I felt like this beautiful little spirit flitted into my life for such a breif time, and since butterflies are thought to only live a short time, it seems fitting. 

So tonight at 7:00 pm, I lit a candle for all the sweet babies lost too soon.  And I lit another one for my Butterfly.

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan established October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, with October 15th specifically set aside for a remembrance day.  He said, "When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, the are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn't a word to describe them.  This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience across the United states and around the world.  It is also mean to inform and provide resources for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirths, birth defects, SIDs and other causes."

I read this statement on http://www.october15th.com/.  It really resonated with me.  It's so true. There is no title for a mother or father that has lost a child.  In fact, if the couple has no surviving children, most of the time they wouldn't even be considered a parent by many people, especially in the case of a miscarriage.  How terribly wrong.  Losing a child is a pain that is beyond compare.  It goes against nature, against how things SHOULD be.  A parent should never have to bury their child, they should never know the pain of living without them.  Maybe it's silly to say, we all know it happens all the time.  But you would think that an awful thing like this would at least have a name.

In October, the online community of those effected by pregnancy and infant loss comes together to recognize all the babies we have lost.  Whether lost only a few days after conception or after several months of life, we remember our lost babies. 

This October I remember the baby I lost far too soon.  The baby I'd wanted so badly, gone almost before I knew I had it.  I grieve for what might have been.  I wonder if my baby was a boy or a girl, what he or she would have been like. 

I also grieve for my mother's first child, the sister I never met, who died at only five months. 

I grieve for every mother and father that has lost a child.  There are far too many of us. 

Throughout the month of October, our contributors will share their stories of loss on this blog.  I would like to invite all of our readers to do the same.  You can submit your stories via our contact form, or send an email to askaninfertile at yahoo dot com and I will post them here.  You can chose to remain anonymous if you would prefer. 

At 7:00 pm on October 15, candles will be lit around the world in remembrance of our lost children.  Let's share our stories.  We can honor all of the angels gone too soon.