I started this draft in May of 2023 thinking that a couple of months would be enough time for me to feel comfortable opening up about our first pregnancy ending in a miscarriage. Looking back now, I needed a lot more time to heal before I could share about our first baby in a way and at a time that felt right. Now that we’ve announced our current pregnancy, it feels more important than ever to talk about our first – he was and always will be a part of our family, and I truly feel that he is the one who made me a mother.
It’s taken me a while to share my experience, but for something that is unfortunately so common, I can certainly say now that it truly doesn’t get talked about enough. On March 1, 2023, I miscarried our first baby. It was a tragic loss for our family and the most painful experience I have ever gone through – both physically and emotionally.
I’ve gone back and forth about how much I wanted to share about this experience in such a public space, but I think knowing what to expect beyond generalizations would have benefitted me greatly when I was going through it, as my expectations were so far from the reality of what happened. This is a pretty heavy post, so I completely understand if it’s not for you, but if even one person can find help or comfort through it, that’s enough for me.
Finding Out I Was Pregnant
The day I took a home pregnancy test, I was not expecting a positive. If you’re at all familiar with natural family planning lingo, we were TTW (“trying to whatever”) pretty much since we got married in June of 2022. After several months of not actively trying to avoid pregnancy (and negative test after negative test), I started to think that it would take us a lot longer than we anticipated to conceive.
When I sat down to take a test on January 20, 2023, I knew there was a possibility that it could be positive, but I figured the result would be just like every other month. I left the bathroom for a few minutes not thinking anything of it, but when I returned and saw two pink lines, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. I didn’t have any thoughts about finding a cute way to tell Jacob or filming his reaction – I was so shocked that I texted him immediately with a picture of the test and told him I thought I might be pregnant.
He left work early and came straight home to be with me, and wow, were we filled with so many emotions! Joy, excitement, incredulousness, a little bit of anxiety – it was so much to take in, and I couldn’t believe I was growing a little human!
OUR FIRST APPOINTMENT
We went in for our first appointment on January 30th to confirm the pregnancy with bloodwork and go over pregnancy basics (prenatal vitamins, appointment timing, foods and medications to avoid, etc.). At that point, I was still feeling great and most of the worst pregnancy symptoms hadn’t started to set in just yet. I was scheduled to come back in about two weeks for my 8-week ultrasound, which, thanks to NFP, I knew would be about a week and a half too early, but I was excited to see the baby for the first time, so I wasn’t going to argue with them!
In that two-week waiting period, I did so much research. I read ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting‘ almost from cover to cover, scrolled through countless articles about baby gear, and really started to think and plan around how our lives were about to change forever. The possibility of a miscarriage was in the back of my mind, but I tried my best to keep it as suppressed as possible.
I honestly don’t recall this ever being part of a formal discussion, but as a woman, I feel like it’s something you just know. It’s why couples generally wait to announce their pregnancies until they’ve made it through the first trimester and why waiting for that first ultrasound can be so anxiety-inducing. It’s also why the first trimester of pregnancy can be so lonely. You want to wait to tell people until the risk of loss is low, but then, if something does happen, nobody knew you were pregnant in the first place. In that situation, more often than not, people choose to suffer in silence rather than having to share such heartbreaking news. It’s a difficult place to be, and it’s so sad that so many people find themselves there without the support system that they need.
The FIRST ULTRASOUND
My first ultrasound was on February 13th, and while there wasn’t a whole lot to see, our baby was there and they were able to confirm a heartbeat. That was such a relief because I had read that once the heartbeat is detected, the probability of a pregnancy loss goes down significantly. Since the baby was only measuring 6 weeks, my doctor scheduled me for a follow-up ultrasound to give us a more accurate due date in another two weeks. Six weeks was about what I was expecting based on my cycle tracking, so at the time, I wasn’t worried at all. I was just happy to know that things seemed to be progressing the way they should be.
TELLING OUR PARENTS
After we saw the heartbeat, we felt comfortable sharing the happy news with our parents. We wanted to wait to tell everyone else until closer to the end of the first trimester, but felt we needed a little extra support. Since my parents are still in Texas, we told them over the phone, and they were so excited for us! Jacob’s parents live nearby, so we were able to plan a little surprise after one of our Sunday suppers at their house. We wrapped a little pair of baby socks we had picked up while strolling through the baby section at Target and wrote them a card about becoming grandparents. It was such a special moment, and unlike with Jacob, I was able to get their joyful reactions on camera. As hard as that video is to look back on, I’m so thankful I have it.
Waiting for OUR SECOND ULTRASOUND
During the next two-week waiting period, the nausea and fatigue started to set in. I was thankful to have a flexible remote job at the time because I was spending most of my days either lying down on the couch or crouched by the toilet. The time felt like it was going by so slowly, but I figured it meant that things were going well!
I had experienced some mild cramping, but everything I read said it was normal and just due to my uterus stretching and growing, so I tried my best not to worry. Leading up to the follow-up appointment, Jacob and I were so excited. We couldn’t wait to see our little baby again, who should have been the size of a blueberry on the next ultrasound. Jacob took a baby sock to work in his pocket every day and kissed my tummy every morning. I started a pregnancy prayer journal, opened my first registry, and did everything I could to keep our baby strong and healthy.
OUR SECOND ULTRASOUND
We went in for our second ultrasound on February 28th, and naturally, I was a little nervous, but after the previous ultrasound, I wasn’t really expecting anything to be wrong. I think back to the moment of sitting in the car before that appointment often. That feeling of unfettered joy and excitement is unfortunately something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get back when it comes to pregnancy. There’s a certain level of innocence that’s often lost after you experience your first miscarriage. Instead of reacting to pregnancy with pure bliss, your excitement is tempered both by thoughts of everything that could go wrong and recognition of everything that has to go right to have a healthy pregnancy. The creation of life truly is a miracle.
After being called back from the waiting area, Jacob and I got settled in the ultrasound room and waited expectantly for the tech to say something about what she was seeing. The room was silent as she moved the wand around, and her stoic demeanor was telling. I knew something was wrong, and when she finally said that she couldn’t find the heartbeat, I burst into tears. Based on the measurements she took, our baby had stopped growing a few days after my last ultrasound. Rather than being a good sign, all of the symptoms I had been feeling over the past two weeks were from my body trying to nourish and grow our child that had already passed.
When I was taken back to an appointment room to meet with the doctor, I could barely catch my breath. The options I was given were a D&C (an operation to remove the pregnancy tissue), misoprostol (a pill that would induce contractions), or allowing the miscarriage to happen naturally. I had a few days to think it over, but I was told that if my body didn’t naturally start the miscarriage process soon, I risked developing an infection and going into sepsis. I couldn’t believe this was really happening.
OUR MISCARRIAGE
To preface, this part was very difficult for me to write, but if you’ve gone through a similar experience or are going through one now, please know that my thoughts and prayers are with you, and you are not a bad person for feeling anything you’re feeling.
I felt like my body had failed me and my baby, and I was angry. So angry. This happened during a period when I felt very solid in my faith. We were very active in our young adult groups, I spent a lot of time in prayer and Scripture, we went to daily Mass when we could, and I truly felt like my relationship with God was the strongest it had ever been. So, I couldn’t understand why God would let this happen.
Our first stop after the appointment was the adoration chapel at a nearby parish. It was something that Jacob really needed, and I tried my best to soften my heart enough to desire closeness to God, but in that moment, I didn’t feel ready to go. I spent the entire time we were there sobbing quietly and wiping my nose with my sleeve while trying not to disturb others around us. All I wanted to do was scream. I looked up at the Eucharist and felt like my heart was being pierced with a thousand swords. Why? I desperately needed an answer.
My head was filled with all kinds of thoughts. Jealousy towards those who were able to have healthy babies, especially if they didn’t want them. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to have more children of my own. Sadness that this little life I had been imagining in my head would never actually make it here the way we thought they would. Anger that a good and loving God would allow an innocent life to come and go so quickly. Confusion as to whether I could really even call myself a mom, since my only child had died in the womb. It was all so painful to sit with. I felt so much shame around some of the things I was thinking and feeling, and at the time, I felt completely abandoned.
Jacob and I took the rest of the day off work and spent some time at a local park just being in nature, breathing in the fresh air, and letting reality set in. I was leaning towards letting the miscarriage happen naturally (not that I really knew what that looked like), but I didn’t end up having a choice. The cramps and bleeding started later that afternoon.
I don’t think movies do a great job of portraying what it’s like to experience a miscarriage. I’m sure it’s different for everyone, but my doctor did not mentally prepare me for what it would be like at all. Since I was so used to debilitating cramps, I thought the pain couldn’t be that much worse…but I was so wrong.
Throughout the evening, the pain turned from what felt like my usual period cramps to the most excruciating pain I have ever felt. No amount of medication would help. I spent hours in agony bleeding onto a chux pad on our bathroom floor, afraid I was going to break Jacob’s hand from squeezing it so hard when the contractions came and went. I nearly lost consciousness several times, and by the middle of the night, I was so exhausted and in so much pain that I truly questioned whether I was going to make it through.
Jacob tried to get me dressed to go to the emergency room, but I collapsed before we were able to make it out of the door. I was so out of it that he had to call an ambulance to get me to the hospital safely, and I didn’t have any relief until the medication they gave me on the way there started to kick in about an hour later.
After some bloodwork, vital checks, and much-needed rest, I ended up passing everything all at once. We were able to make out the gestational sac and what we thought was our tiny baby, who was about the size of a pea. We took some time to hold him, take a few pictures, and pray.
Jacob called for a priest who came to bless the remains. He asked for a name, and we decided to call our little one Francis Reed Mears. The priest stayed to pray with us and gave me the opportunity to ask some difficult spiritual questions I had been wrestling with throughout the entire experience. His answers gave me so much comfort and peace, and though the pain was and still is there, it softened my heart in a way that was desperately needed.
THE BURIAL
The burial arrangements took a lot more time, research, and planning than we were expecting. We called all of the Catholic parishes in the area, and to both our surprise and dismay, none of them were able to provide us with guidance on how to have Francis buried. To be honest, that experience created a bit of a wound in me – I couldn’t believe that for a faith that wholeheartedly teaches life begins at conception, there was no easily accessible or widely-known protocol or process for how to properly bury our miscarried child.
When we were in the hospital, we learned that Indiana law requires the remains of all miscarried infants to be buried, and the Catholic hospital where I delivered Francis maintains a communal plot at a local Catholic cemetery. We started by calling the cemetery’s office, and they were so kind and understanding. This particular cemetery donates plots for infants, so if we wanted to have our own burial, the only cost would be for engraving the headstone. We scheduled an appointment to meet with one of their representatives to figure out what all of our options were, and it was so helpful to have someone guiding us with so much compassion. She also connected us with a funeral home that had experience with miscarriage services, and they provided us with some invaluable information.
This is a bit graphic, but I think it’s important to know, especially since most miscarriages happen before the 8th week: All the babies buried in the communal hospital plot had to be cremated – they couldn’t be buried whole. Because Francis was so little when he passed, he wouldn’t have had the bones and cartilage needed to produce ash, so there would have been nothing left after the cremation process. The way one chooses to bury a child is an incredibly personal decision, but given that information, the communal plot didn’t feel right to us, so we opted for a separate burial at the end of March.
The next step was planning the actual service. Again, there weren’t a lot of resources available from the Church, but it was important to us for Francis to have a Catholic burial. After scouring the internet for something or someone who could help us figure out what to do, I came across a Facebook group called ‘Mommy to a Little Saint‘. The women in that group were a Godsend and all of the resources they had were exactly what we needed at the time. One of them was ‘The Order for the Naming and Commendation of an Infant Who Died Before Birth’ from the Archdiocese of St. Louis. It is a beautiful order, and it’s what we asked our deacon to use for the service.
The funeral was a small gathering of just our immediate families, but I designed and printed programs to commemorate the day. The funeral home also allowed me to take the burial vessel home to decorate before the service, and it was so healing to feel like I could use my time and skills to make something beautiful for our child, even if he was no longer living. We laid him to rest on March 29, 2023, and though he isn’t with us physically, he will always be a part of our family.
FINDING HEALING
It’s hard to understand the physical and emotional pain of going through a miscarriage without having gone through one yourself. When I found out I was pregnant for the first time, I knew that miscarriages were most common during the first trimester, but beyond that, I had never really heard anyone talk about what the experience of having a miscarriage is really like. It wasn’t until we shared our loss with friends and family that so many revealed to us that they had gone through pregnancy loss as well.
It’s something very personal, and many women choose to keep their losses private, which can make the emotional aftermath that much more isolating. You don’t generally see people on social media posting about their traumatic pregnancy losses. Instead, they share the happy news – pregnancy announcements, gender reveals, baby showers, etc. Social media can make it seem as though getting and staying pregnant is easy for everyone, and that’s simply not the case. One in four pregnancies ends in a miscarriage, which is a heartbreaking statistic…and one that I am now a part of. It’s painful and uncomfortable, but it’s real.
In the weeks and months following my miscarriage, I found so much healing in hearing other women’s stories – whether in person, through online support groups, or seeking them out on social media. I was encouraged to lean on the Lord, given resources to guide me through the grief process, and received so many kind words from women who understood what I was going through. It meant so much to me, and it still does. I was also so thankful that we were able to bury Francis so we would have a place to visit him – I know so many women don’t have that opportunity, and my heart breaks for those that would have chosen a burial, but didn’t get the chance.
If you’re going through a miscarriage now or have in the past, I am so, so sorry. Whether you have living children or not, you are still a mother. The little life you created was real. It’s okay to remember them and to call them by name, even if nobody else does. They are with you always, and thanks be to God, one day you will see them again.
Love from Indiana,
Malia
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