MiscarriageHelp.com

None of us knows what life has in store for us. There are going to be great, beautiful things happening, and there are going to be painful things that try your spirit. Accepting the challenge, or 'moving on,' is what life's about.

I know that as painful as my miscarriage was for me, it served a purpose in my life. I'm not saying that this is a good thing to have happen to you! What I mean is that without that terrible event, I would not be able to write these words in the hope of helping you. If I hadn't lived it, I couldn't talk about it like this. If I didn't cry the tears that you've cried, you wouldn't give a hoot about what I'm saying to you.

Why would you? What would I know of your grief, sadness, blame, guilt, and fear?

I do know.

There are so many of us on different paths. We are professionals in the workforce or professional mothers. We are painters and singers. We are caretakers, and we are movie stars. Some of us may have children, while some of us don't. My point is that we all have our own lives, and our diversity is wonderful. The one thing that connects us all is that we are women who experienced a terrible loss that seemed, in many cases, to go unacknowledged by many. We have all felt the dismissal of our very real grief, and we have all felt alone and isolated because of it. We have all wondered what 'might have been,' and we have all been caught off guard by powerful emotions resurfacing.

As you move on down your road, whatever that road may be, I want you to know that what you're experiencing is something that I, along with millions of other women, have experienced. This does not lessen your pain- it acknowledges it. You are not abnormal for crying 'too much.' You are not going crazy when years have passed and you still find yourself remembering and feeling. We cry our tears together. You are not alone in your struggle to get through this ...

Most importantly, you will.

 

 

Welcome to MiscarriageHelp.com. My name is Ellen DuBois, host of this site, miscarriage survivor, and author of I Never Held You: Miscarriage, Grief, Healing and Recovery. If you or someone you love has suffered a miscarriage, please know you're not alone. Connect with people who understand.

Note: Some people find it difficult to post comments here because it's not very clear how to do it. Just hit the "comment" link under any post. I'll get your comment and respond. If it's easier, please email me. [email protected]

My book, I Never Held You, is mentioned in this column. More importantly, it addresses how difficult anniversary dates can be:

Ask Amy: Anniversary of #miscarriage brings on grief #miscarriageadvice #miscarriagesupport #miscarriagebook  Click here to read.

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Here is a message I rencently received from a woman struggling as she approaches the anniversary of her miscarriage:

Hi, Thank you for all of the time and effort you have put into this cause... November 4th, will be 3 years since the day my baby was taken away.. I was only 10 weeks along when I found out and the baby stopped growing at 7 and a half weeks. No one really knows but it still bothers me so bad to this day. Although I know it isn't my fault and I know its common. I still feel as if it is.... My fiance took it harder then I did, well he made it more obvious.He went down hill our relationship went downhill... Anytime me or anyone mentioned it he got so mad.. We have a two year old daughter. I sort of feel dumb for being upset because most people would look at it like I only knew about the baby for 6 weeks and never got to see the baby. But I have ALWAYS wanted to be a mother. No one in my family has had a miscarriage before and it happened to ME. I have ALWAYS been all about kids wherever I went and now unless its my daughter I have to hide the fact that every kid gets on my nerves... :( Thats horrible. Im not even the same person even three years later.. Thank you for reading all of this."

My response:

I am so sorry for your loss. I understand how you loved your baby and it's not dumb or anything of the sort to miss your baby and to feel all the emotions that go along with your loss. When the anniversary date approaches, it gets tougher for a lot of women. Myself included.

I lived it and know how you feel. (Every Novermber around Thanksgiving I go into kind of a "funk" and it's been so many years since I miscarried. My baby would have been born around Thanksfiving and I can't help but remember him.)

So many others have experienced the heartache of losing their babies to miscarriage and getting through anniversary dates. We know how you feel. You're not alone.

I know you have a two year old daughter and love her with all your heart, but having a child doesn't make this loss any less.

Also, your miscarriage wasn't your fault. I remember wondering if there was anything I did wrong to cause my own miscarriage. It was like torturing myself. Over time I learned that I didn't cause my miscarriage, but I spent a lot of time making myself more miserable wondering. I even asked my doctor who assured me I hadn't done anything to cause it.

It took a long time for me to feel like "me" again. I get not feeling like you're the same person. The thing is, loss and grief do change you. You will get there, (back to feeling like yourself), but it takes time to work through grief and some of the other things that go along with it. Please give yourself that time and keep the faith that you'll find your way. You can enjoy loving your beautiful daughter and continue healing at the same time. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers.

Love and God Bless,

Ellen

 

 

Welcome to MiscarriageHelp.com. My name is Ellen DuBois, host of this site, miscarriage survivor, and author of I Never Held You: Miscarriage, Grief, Healing and Recovery. If you or someone you love has suffered a miscarriage, please know you're not alone. Connect with people who understand.

Note: Some people find it difficult to post comments here because it's not very clear how to do it. Just hit the "comment" link under any post. I'll get your comment and respond. If it's easier, please email me. [email protected]com

My book, I Never Held You, is mentioned in this column. More importantly, it addresses how difficult anniversary dates can be:

Ask Amy: Anniversary of #miscarriage brings on grief #miscarriageadvice #miscarriagesupport #miscarriagebook  Click here to read.

Comments (0)     

I felt this way whenever I've grieved. After my miscarriage, the loss of my grandparents, and most recently the loss of my mother, (5 years but it feels like yesterday sometimes). My heart and prayers go out to all who are grieving. I am so sorry for your loss. Love and light, Ellen

Welcome to MiscarriageHelp.com. My name is Ellen DuBois, host of this site, miscarriage survivor, and author of I Never Held You: Miscarriage, Grief, Healing and Recovery. If you or someone you love has suffered a miscarriage, please know you're not alone. Connect with people who understand.

Note: Some people find it difficult to post comments here because it's not very clear how to do it. Just hit the "comment" link under any post. I'll get your comment and respond. If it's easier, please email me. [email protected]

Comments (0)     

Although this happened over twenty-five years ago, I remember it like it was yesterday. From the time I miscarried, I changed. Life changed. As with any loss, the effect on you is profound and the path your feet walked changes in the blink of an eye.

Here is my story taken from the pages of my book, I Never Held You. It's probably one many of you can relate to. My heart goes out to all who have experienced a miscarriage and please know you are not alone.

When I was four and a half months pregnant, I was filled with feelings of excitement, joy, fear, and wonder. I had been married about a year and a half, and although it was an unplanned pregnancy, an immediate bond formed between my unborn and I. There were days when I would rest my hand on my slightly swollen stomach and smile, thinking of the life inside me. No, we didn't plan this baby, but I was going to give it all the love in the world and then some.

Nothing else mattered. I knew we'd manage.

One day, while my husband, (at the time), was away on business, I noticed a small amount of blood on some toilet paper.Instinct kicked in and said, "This isn't right. Call your doctor." There was no pain, no large amounts of blood-but the feeling that something was wrong was unshakable.

My sister and I ended up at the hospital where they performed an ultrasound. I stared at the monitor while the doctor pointed at an image that I could barely see through my tears. His words will forever ring in my ears: "The fetus is no longer viable." Viable? What did that mean? I could tell by the look on the doctor's face that it wasn't good.

"What does viable mean?" I asked. My heart raced as I awaited what I knew was the answer, but prayed wouldn't be.

"The fetus is no longer alive. The sack around the fetus is broken. We can wait for you to miscarry ..." His words faded as my mind raced. Wait! Miscarry? What? A numbness washed through me. The doctor continued, "I think it would be best if we removed it. It would be very painful and messy to wait for it to abort itself and in the long run, best for you."

For me? What about my baby? God...stop calling it 'a fetus'! I wanted to scream, cry, hit something, and run. I wanted to turn back the hands of time and be anywhere but in that cold, sterile room with a doctor telling me that my baby-not my fetus- was dead.

But, I couldn't change anything. I agreed to the D & C (dilation and curettage), which is when the cervix is dilated and the fetal and placental tissues are scraped or suctioned out. I felt afraid and shocked. I couldn't believe the life inside of me was no longer alive. Just that feeling was beyond explanation. However, something inside triggered me to agree to remove the baby because I figured it would be worse to wait, day after day, for it to abort itself. I knew I couldn't handle that trauma, so I chose another.

I left in a state of disbelief. I couldn't even cry.

When my husband got home the next day, I told him the news. The day after that, I went in for my day surgery.

The doctor told me that upon examining the fetal tissue, he discovered it was "perfectly normal" and that first pregnancy miscarriages were very common. I swear he almost smiled, as if this was no big deal. I was young, and there'd be no problems in getting pregnant again.

Was that supposed to help? They were common? Maybe if I'd been told that there was a concrete reason for my miscarriage, i.e., an abnormality in the chromosomes or an infection that would render my baby ill,I'd have felt it was a blessing. Or, maybe not.

"Wait a few months and you can try again." the doctor said. Try again? Let me get over this!

That was just the beginning of a very long, painful road I was about embark upon. One on which no one understood my grief. Why? Because there was no 'baby' to be seen. There was no real sense of loss for anyone but me. People cared, but more about me than my lost child. The child I carried and loved in my womb for four months. The child I had dreams and plans for. The child I talked to during the day.

The child that was never to be.

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