Told by: Sarah

My heart is at peace and also saddened all at the same time……..

Our hope for this Mother’s Day was to shout some happy news, but instead our news is not so happy. On March 4th, I found out that my husband and I were expecting another child. All seemed to be going well, and we went to the doctor last Friday.

First stop was the ultra sound. Our first 100% confirmation of this little life being formed inside me was evident, but what was not, was movement. The ultrasound tech didn’t say much of anything, just sent us back to the doctor’s office.

We patiently sat awaiting any news. The doctor came in and was friendly, but she got straight to the point. What we were there for….Was our baby healthy and alive? Although we had hope that it was, much to our disappointment, it was not. The baby stopped developing at 11 weeks and I was 13. There was no heartbeat. She reassured us there was nothing we did wrong, maybe the doctors weren’t 100% accurate and they make mistakes, but to her it seemed hopeless.

She gave us a few minutes to process and came back in with news from another doctor. “It is hopeless, the baby is gone.” What a dagger to the heart.

And yet peace swept over me all at the same time. I immediately knew right where my baby was….In the arms of my Savior and Lord. He WAS healthy and alive!

The doctor gave us the options of allowing the actual miscarriage to take place at home, they could give me medicine to speed up the process or they could put me under and perform a procedure to clear out my uterus. I knew there was no way I was going to MAKE this happen. After all, my God is a God of miracles and He can do anything should it be His will. After a week of more evidence of the life inside me losing the battle, I began cramping and bleeding Thursday night.

I knew the miscarriage was iminant, but the cramping stopped and I was able to sleep through most of the night. I woke yesterday morning feeling good. I got up and started doing my normal morning routine. I got my girls up and we started the day. After moving around, things started up again. And by 11 am, my fear was becoming a reality. Trying to stay strong and put on a happy face for my girls while going through pain and knowing what was about to happen was so hard. I was able to get the girls fed and put down for their nap and come 1:00 pm, things were rapidly happening.

My mother in law was able to come help with the process and about 3:45 pm, the life that was once inside me, no longer was.

An instant wave of grief swept over me as we picked up this lifeless baby. Tears flowing from my eyes, I knew I still wanted the chance to hold my child in my hands. I was asked if I was sure and I knew I was. I needed to see, hold and tell my baby, “Mommy loves you.” I did and again peace… a reminder of the pain and suffering my child will not have to face in this world.

For that I am grateful, but yet I remembered all the things I will not get to experience. No wiping tears, hearing a little voice say, “I love you mommy,” no kissing scrapes on knees, no bedtime stories, no hugs, and the list goes on and on.

I knew I wanted to know what this little baby was and I asked if we would be able to tell. I looked and I saw and again…..peace. We miscarried in December and we were hoping for a little boy then. A couple days after my miscarriage, my devotional was talking about how we need to let God do His work in our lives and to be patient, not force things and trust Him. That Abraham and Sarah had to wait a really long time for what they wanted most…..a son.

Tears streaming from my eyes, I knew that was God’s promise that I would one day have a little boy. I felt Him reassure me in that promise when I found out I was pregnant again. More confirmation came when people would find out that we were expecting and every one of them would say, “It’s a boy.” My confirmation was there. And I KNEW God had fulfilled His promise. He just never promised I’d get to keep my son. I could only rejoice in the promise God had kept and I immediately knew that God was laying a name on my heart.

Jeron Robert was who this baby was. “He will sing” and “bright fame” is what it means. He IS SINGING with his two other brothers and sisters that were there to meet him. And he is and will live up to his bright fame.

I had started rationalizing, questioning, searching for answers as to why. My mother in law reassured me that I did nothing wrong and maybe there was something wrong with the baby. After closer examination of this beautiful little baby boy, we realized that he had 12 fingers and 11 toes.

God knew and my body knew that there could have and would have been complications later in his life. But in our eyes and God’s he is still perfect. My father told my best…..he said, “with all those extra fingers and toes, he can do God’s work even faster.”

What a sentiment…. and again tears.

I don’t understand it all, but I am so grateful that I was able to carry Jeron inside of me for 14 weeks and to me, he is a blessing, and is still my son.

I am now the mother of 5 children! Who knew? I have three already doing so much more with their lives than I could ever hope or imagine for them and two beautiful girls who have the privilege and already are doing so much here! As hard as it is to lose a child, this is still a wonderful Mother’s day for me, because I am blessed to be the mother of such amazing children. I may never know Jeron as a child, but my body and heart know him. And he will forever be a child who has changed my life so much with the short amount of time he had.

Thank you all for your love, support and prayers. As we bury our son tomorrow, we will begin the healing process knowing that although his life here is over, he is still ALIVE AND WELL!!!!! Praise God!

Told by: Roberta

My miscarriage story: If I went right to the very start of my story I’d begin where I have a bad ob/gyn history. I had massive fibroids which needed removed by surgery and before the operation I had injections to try to shrink them to a manageable size or I could die.

These injection brought on the menopause at the age of 28 but surgery was a sucess. Two years later on my thirtieth birthday my periods returned which my doctor says shouldn’t have happened but I’d still never conceive. I also met my now husband that week and for what seemed to be a life of misery I was on the up. I got married when I was 32. Five months later after numerous tests and stress I became pregnant.  The hospital told me I wouldn’t make it to 12 weeks because I was to heavily scarred. They were wrong.

When I was 16 weeks I had a respiratory infection but hospital scanned me and there was my little bean bouncing away! The following week I felt my baby move for the first time, it felt like the baby was stretching! I got my strength back and at 19+ 2 went back to work. The next day while having lunch with my colleagues my back was aching but I thought I’d just overdid things so I went home and took some pain relief. That night after putting away shopping I went to the loo and my life changed, there was so much blood and a large clot, I just dropped to the floor and sobbed.

At the emergency obstetric unit the doc confirmed our fears, our bean had lost it’s life and with that I lost mine. The miracle I had fought for and that they told me I’d never conceive I’d lost.

The hospital had no beds for a week so I had to call everyday to explain I’d had a missed miscarriage to be told I couldn’t come in. Nature took over on day 4 and my water broke. After 11 hours I didn’t even realize I was in full labour and when the midwife asked if she could take a look I just felt this strange rush; she put her hand on my knee and said “it’s over, don’t look down!” I didn’t.

After the doctors doing their part and getting me more medication I was asked if I wanted to see my baby; I said yes. This was a massive deal for me, I have a fear of anything dead but I had to see my child. The midwife, Fiona, brought me a little basket the size of my shoe and inside was my tiny baby. Fiona asked if I wanted a picture but I couldn’t, decomposition had already begun. She then told me it was a boy, my son, we named him Harry. She said he was 15+1gestation, but how could that be right, I felt him moving after that time? I asked if I could hold him but I wasn’t allowed because his skin was to thin so I just touched his little blanket and broke my heart into my husbands arms. I asked for a post mortem, I needed to know what happened to the boy I was told I was never to have.

We went home but it was empty, I was empty. My arms should have had my baby in them but instead I had a box with hand and foot prints a blanket and a teddy. A few weeks later I had his name tattooed on my arm and we bought a plaque at the cemetery and had it inscribed Baby Harry Swain born sleeping 4.5.12 Always loved never forgotten. It arrived a week before we received the pm results.

Harry had Edwards syndrome, a genetic condition where the 18th chromosome triples rather than doubles but worse of all, Harry was female. Details of how this mistake was made are too graphic but I understood how it was made. I suffered after that numerous panic attacks, I started drinking just to get some sleep and had thoughts of self harm, I was broken. I didn’t want to part with Harry’s ashes but my husband couldn’t cope with keeping them so we agreed to scatter the ashes in the garden of remembrance on the day our plaque was erected. We had a few family members with us and I remember feeling a release of some of the anger I had, not only towards the loss but the anger, anxiety and hatred I had for myself so rather than a day of mourning, I went to the local shops and bought food and drinks for my family and we had a lovely afternoon of laughter and chatting. It was also the day before my husbands birthday so we partied on into the wee hours. I still was very low at times and still had the odd drink for Dutch courage to get through the day.

But that soon stopped, when I realised I was binging not only on alcohol but pizza and fast food, I was pregnant again, eight months after my baby lost her life on the day I let her go she gave me the ultimate gift. Life. I was terrified, could I face this happening again? That was 10 months ago and now that life Harry gave me is truly a miracle. Her little brother Aaron is 8 weeks old and my purpose for living, and may I say an absolute nightmare with sleeping and feeding patterns, but I’d have it no other way! While Aaron is all I could have asked for my heart still yearns for his sister. It always will. We will never forget her x

Told by: Christine

Mom to Emma Gayle born still on February 5, 2006 Baby Girl Wright Miscarried on March 1, 2010

Many of you have asked ” What happened to Emma?” and I had written a story about my loss and have shared it many countless times in hopes that people come to realize that it is my grief journey and that I am here always for those of you who have gone through a loss.

You see a loss is not just a miscarriage a loss is your whole world. To me a loss is a loss no matter how far along you were. Hopes, dreams, love shattered. I want to share it…I think I have been healing through it and I hope that my light will shine in the darkest of days for those who are feeling alone in it.

So here is the story I have shared and I pray it may bring comfort to those who have gone through it, hope for the future and also understanding of who I am today and what I have gone through to get here…GOD IS MY STRENGTH! Hello. I too am a mommy with empty arms. I was a mommy with a head full of dreams and a heart full of love for my little Emma, yet to be born. But stillbirth, the destroyer of dreams took my whole world away.  Here is my story. I feel I need to share it to heal and to reach out to others who have been there or may not be aware of how human we parents are when this happens.

I didn’t know anything like this even existed. I only knew about people having babies or just miscarrying early in pregnancy. Not losing them later or even at birth. We need to come together to help get the word out on this tragedy that we have had to face. There is not enough research on this horribly devastating issue nor is there any true way to prevent it from happening. We have to come together and also let our friends, family, neighbors, etc. know that we were PREGNANT. We had a baby. We can’t just act like it didn’t happen. It hurts more than they could imagine forever. They just don’t know what to say or to do but if we reach out to them and share our stories, maybe it will open some eyes. I know some states don’t even give birth certificates or even acknowledge the birth. That is heinous. It seems so unfair. I am human, I had a baby,I hurt, I cry and there is reason for it. I would like to share my story with you. I will try and not pour out my heart to where you would need Kleenex, but I am human, I am a mommy with empty arms.

My first pregnancy. Wow. I was so excited. It was a girl and she was healthy and things were going great. She was active and had a lot of hiccups every day and most of the time it was all day long. I had prayed for red curly hair…but I had heard that if the mom has the hiccups then they would have a head full of hair. So I wasn’t sure why she had them. I never got morning sickness and was doing great most of the way through. I had a few times that I had itching and had to take benadryl (which they said was safe…I still took children’s benadryl and usually only took a small a sip). I was worried about her and did not want to jeopardize her in anyway. We were doing great. Around my 7th month, I started to swell. Hands, feet, legs, and face. They weren’t too concerned with it. ” It was normal.” To them I guess. Reading books had me worried still. I kept on them about my swelling. “It was normal.” I was 158 when I got pregnant and by the time I had her I was around 215. Normal. But the swelling to me was scary but still was told it was normal. Blood pressure had always been around about 100/70 or lower. It had been fine throughout the pregnancy and no protein in my urine.

So finally there we were 4 weeks until her due date, February 16th, asking the doctor to just go ahead and take her. We were ready and she was full-term. He said he wanted to wait and that natural pregnancies were easier to heal from. Still swollen and it was normal. The baby was fine. No unusual things happened. The next week, we begged him and he said no “we have to wait for the man upstairs to pull the plug.” I was happy to hear that. He sounded like a good Christian and I felt better knowing that. Legs, face and hands were huge. I had my baby shower that Sunday and was doing fine. I was tired and was ready. She was slowing down a bit but I knew she was crowded. But when her daddy would get home and she would hear his voice she would kick like crazy. She knew and loved him. The next time we went to the appointment he was surprised that I hadn’t gone yet and said everything was still good and we would just wait it out. No dilation, no contractions. By then we had two weeks left. That appointment was on Tuesday.

I was just so ready and frantically preparing the house for her.  We wanted her home.  It was time. What we waited so long. The little hands and the little feet to kiss. I was ready for the breastfeeding, the play times, the bath times, everything you dream about. No activity yet. I just stayed busy getting things ready. Her room was ready, clothes and blankets washed, crib ready, beautiful and awaiting our baby girl, Emma. Everyone loved her. She had clothes all the way up to 12-18 months and 2T. Toys, books, stuffed animals, and even a two-piece bikini with hearts on it. (Daddy said leave that in the back of the closet) But I though about her little chunky legs (if she were built like me) and her bottom hanging out the sides when she would wear it. Dreams. Excitement. We were ready for our little girl, the one we talked to, (I used to just talk to myself when I was alone and found myself talking to her more and more),the one we knew before she was conceived, our love, our life. Our angel.

And then on Saturday morning of the same week, my husband called and asked me if I was doing okay. How I felt, were there any contractions, etc. I said no. But then he said “some thing’s not right. I feel like something is wrong.” After I got off the phone with him, I thought “whoa, I think he’s maybe right.” I was still in bed and usually she was active all day long and especially around the time that he called because while I would sleep he would reach over and tap on my belly so she would kick back. That was their Daddy and Emma time. If would wake up he would tell me to be quiet or be still. I guess they were still communicating. Ha ha.

I got out of bed and ate something and laid down. An hour passed and nothing. I walked around a bit and noticed she wasn’t moving. I went into the nursery and sat down in the rocking chair and talked to her and tapped on my belly so she would move. But nothing. I cried out to God and Emma and said please kick the crap out of me. I need you to move. Still nothing. It was silent and I was scared. I frantically called my doctor’s office. I got a nurse’s aide. She would call me back. It seemed like forever since my husband had called. I called him back and told him she wasn’t moving and that I was waiting for the doctor to call back. I got in the bath to cleanup in case I needed to get to the hospital. While waiting the phone rang and it was the doctor on call. She said get to the hospital immediately. Well, I was an hour away. I wanted to go to another one and she told me not to because they couldn’t deliver anywhere but there.

I got out of the bath and was out the door. I barely remember it being cold and snowy outside. I didn’t even clear off my windshield. I think I made it there in less than 35 minutes. They whole way there I was frantic and praying and crying. Cussing people to move out of my way and praying that a cop wouldn’t pull me over. It was almost a blur when I got there. I had to give them all my information at the hospital again and that seemed like it took forever.

Stricken and moved it all over my belly. Nothing. Not one movement. Not a heartbeat. Nothing. She was gone. Then the shock set in and I told the nurse to call my husband for me. Not even any fluid in the placenta. Once my husband got there, that was about all I remember.

She told me I would have to deliver. I thought, “No way. Take her c-section, I can’t do this. I can’t see her.” Then I felt so angry for thinking that. She is our baby. Our Emma Gayle. The one we knew before she was conceived and I waited for her for nine months. I had to do it. I was her mommy. I am a mommy. I don’t remember much after he got there and told me that.

So from Saturday when I got to the hospital until Sunday morning…it was a blur. I didn’t remember that some of our friends and our families were there until later on. It just seemed so unreal. It was Superbowl Sunday. We joked about that. That I would be in labor on Superbowl Sunday or Valentines Day. I’d be in the other room pushing and everyone else would be watching the game. Unfortunate it was that day. They had given me magnesium sulfate, a drug used to prevent seizures. My blood pressure was extremely high. I could have hurt me too. I had no idea about this condition, preeclampsia. It was the reason she was gone. They were sure of it.

They had given me the cervix ripening medicine and said it would take a while for it to work. I guess I was so drugged up that I didn’t even remember getting my epidural. I wanted to give birth but I didn’t want to feel the contractions. I remember hearing “she’s 8 cm dilated; she can push when she wants to”. I did. Then I started to feel the contractions on my right side. The anesthesiologist took about 30minutes to finally get me numb. He almost took it out to put it in another one so that I would be numb. But in the back of my mind, I was glad I felt them, I was giving birth to my baby. I think it took over an hour or so. I remember them saying that they had to use the suction because there was not any fluid in the placenta to help get her out. It hurt my feelings when I heard that, I was too devastated after that.

She arrived at 12:08on Feb 5, 2006. Absolutely beautiful. 5 lbs 8 oz, 18 3/4 inches long.  Small weight possibly from the preeclampsia. She even had the red curly hair I prayed for. She was so beautiful and so precious. I kept waiting for that cry. But it didn’t come. The doctor and nurses stretched and examined the placenta and it coincided with the preeclampsia in the fact that there were tears in it. So we didn’t do an autopsy. I couldn’t do that to her too. My husband was by me from the beginning of it all. My mom and sister joined us in the delivery room. Everyone was so sad. Why? She was here but was gone too. The baby everyone was waiting for was finally here. Everyone who wanted to saw her and held her. She was their little angel Emma too. I could tell it hurt them and that some of them didn’t want to hold her. I got upset and then not. She was my baby. The one we all were waiting for. Hold her. Love her. She is finally here. I was proud of her and I wanted her to be loved on too. I guess I was still drugged and in shock because my emotions were weird. I was so sad and so worried about everyone holding her, I didn’t check out her fingers, her toes, her body, etc. I cried a little bit, stared at her some but never really let out my emptiness and my pain until we were home. But I held her, loved her, missed her, and cried.

My husband held her the majority of the time. She was daddy’s girl. She looked like daddy too. Our whole world was turned upside down in such a quick moment. She was here but already gone. I couldn’t handle that. I just couldn’t believe it all. Let me tell you briefly what the hospital did for us. I can’t even sum it up briefly. They were the best of the best. They set aside a room adjoining mine for all our friends and family to be in. Allowed as many people in my room as I felt comfortable. When Emma was born, they let us keep her for as long as we needed to. They allowed grandmas to give her a bath and dress her in her outfit. Took pictures with the digital camera they have. Sent her hospital picture away to be developed. Gave us a hand print on a card, numerous footprints, a bible, a small teddy bear, her bracelets, locks of hair, etc. Later on we got birth certificates from the hospital. There were two pastors who had come to be with us and give our families and us information on grieving and the loss of a child. The nursing staff was so loving and caring. They sat with us and cried with us, and just gave of themselves like no other. I was so happy with them that I made sure before I left the hospital that I personally commended the hospital staff to the Nurse manager. They still have kept in contact and pray that we are there sometime soon with her little bother or sister. I will tell you the hospital name, Baptist Hospital East in Louisville Kentucky. If I had A million dollars I would let them be known world wide for what they did for us. We buried our little Emma Gayle on February 9, 2006. It was the hardest thing to ever go through in life. It just seemed so wrong that I was burying my daughter. And to the day, she would have been 5 months old, and it hurts just as much as the minute they told me she was gone. It gets easier, but then you could fall back again. I know where she is and I find peace in that but I will forever miss those little kicks, hiccups, dreams, bath time, kissing her fingers and toes and watching her grow. I know heaven will be the only place she will ever know and that Jesus will hold her until we do, but the only place she will ever be to us is in our hearts and minds forever.

We love you Emma Gayle Wright. Born to be an Angel.

Please do not hesitate when you think that something is wrong to call your doctor. If you have to go to the hospital. Get checked out. Don’t forget to count the baby’s kicks everyday. Make sure to ask what your blood pressure is and if there was any protein in your urine. Please love your baby. Take care of you completely. You are carrying your future, your heart. You made the decision to be pregnant and that means allowing your baby to grow up carrying your heart on their sleeves. Believe me, and I am being sincere about this, you do not want to be a Mommy or Daddy with empty arms. Please love and cherish life and your little one growing inside, because in the blink of an eye, all your hopes and dreams can betaken from you. It hurts everyday and all day long. I cry every day. I miss her everyday. I will for the rest of my life.

There is healing in time and time for healing. This time is now.

I love her now just like then, always and forever until we meet again. I have a 2 1/2 yr old whom I had to do shots and weekly ultrasounds with to get her here.

{You may read the story of Emma’s little sister, here.}