It’s funny the way life goes. I’ve told Branton for years that I would love to speak to others, motivate others, and encourage others, I just had no idea what I would speak about. Well, God sure led me to speak last Friday, June 2^nd, however I would never have imagined pregnancy loss is what I would be speaking of. Leslie Clark, Spiritual Care Provider at St. Boniface Hospital, and Jody Thompson, Team Leader Mothers Program & Health Promotion at the Women’s Health Clinic, asked myself and a new friend of mine who lost her baby at just eight days old, to speak at a workshop they were hosting. The workshop Coping with Pregnancy and Infant Loss, open to all public health nurses, social workers, and service providers working with families going through perinatal loss. We were asked to share our story of what it has been like going through this type of loss, what helped and what didn’t. I’m so grateful that Leslie has asked me to be part of this amazing workshop to share our story of pregnancy loss. Of losing our sweet babies. I’ll share with you here, a little more insight into what went on throughout the various stages of our losses, from hearing those words, “I’m sorry there is no heartbeat” (crushing), to some less than great experiences in our medical system, and what life looks like after loss.

.

For those of you new here, I’m 28 years old, and married to my high school sweetheart, Branton. We’ve been trying to conceive since 2013, and within the last 16 months have been pregnant three times, each pregnancy ending in loss. To read more about our former years of trying to conceive, check out Our Story.

.

Our First Experience Going Through Miscarriage

And Not Knowing What to Do  

 After we found out we were pregnant, we went for an early 6 week ultrasound, and had the privilege of hearing our little babe’s beating heart. It was truly the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Three weeks after our initial ultrasound, I started having a sinking feeling. Branton was starting to become frustrated with my less than positive feelings, and suggested we book an appointment with Babymoon to put my mind at ease. Wanting to celebrate the relief I would receive by seeing our baby’s heartbeat, we booked a room at the Fairmont that same night, and a whole day date adventure. Our ultrasound was scheduled for March 4, 2016 at 10 ½ weeks pregnant.

.

“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.

.

What we excitedly prepared for (seeing our baby grow; hearing his heart beat) was not what we witnessed. The words, “I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.” is forever written in my mind. I laid there, holding Branton’s hand, as we watched the TV monitoring screen show our perfect little babe – motionless, just stagnant on that screen. At first there were no tears, just shock of what was happening. I wanted to get out of that room as fast as I could. Leaving that room, and climbing into the vehicle, I lost all control and tears of reality began to pour. I kept thinking, “I can’t believe this is happening.” And yet, I could. It all seemed so unbelievably too good to be true that we were finally really pregnant. I asked Branton to drive me straight to Concordia Hospital, to see a doctor.

.

Once we arrived, I was so distraught, I was unable to answer the triage nurse questions, having Branton speak for me. Branton still had a glimmer of hope that the technician at Babymoon was wrong – as she said she could not medically tell us our baby was gone. We were called into a room soon after triage, where a student nurse came in with a small portable ultrasound machine. He was incredibly nervous, as were we, as he tried to find a heartbeat. He told us that he couldn’t tell us with 100% certainty that our baby was gone, however it was likely. We would have to wait for a legit ultrasound, which apparently was booked up for the evening. They then took my blood, and said they would call us later that evening with our HCG results. By this point I was now a ragdoll, and wanted to crawl into a dark hole and pretend this day never happened. We decided to go to the hotel as planned, as we were already all packed up and I couldn’t wrestle with the thought of coming back home to where hours earlier we were excitedly getting ready for the good news. I felt that even our walls would be disappointed once they felt the news we came home with.

.

Spending that evening in the hotel, was one of the best decisions I believe we made in the coping journey. We spent that evening ordering room service, shut our phones off, and simply laid in bed, grieving together. Without this time away from distraction of our home, I’m not sure we would have had that intimate time talking, remembering, and crying over our sweet Lyric. The next day we were simply not ready to face reality, and booked another night, doing the same thing as the day before.

.

A Roller Coaster of Surgeries

Good & Very Bad Medical Support

It wasn’t until almost two weeks later we were scheduled for a D&C, on March 16^th, 2016. That two week wait was hard. Not knowing if at any time we would start to miscarry naturally, dealing with pregnancy hormones that stuck around although our baby had already passed, carrying our baby’s body around everywhere I went, yet knowing he was no longer with us, really. It was being pregnant, yet not. I felt like an impostor – that I was a fraud for some reason as this pregnancy had ended, yet my body was not receiving the message. I was shocked that there was no support during these two weeks. We had no idea what to expect, how to cope, what to do. I felt so lost and totally out of my realm. Not even a pamphlet was provided. There was clearly a lack of support going through this.

.

.

It is a very strange feeling coming home the same day after a “simple routine procedure””, as if we just got back from the dentist.

.

Coming out of surgery, we were told everything went smoothly. It is a very strange feeling coming home the same day after a “simple routine procedure””, as if we just got back from the dentist.The staff at St B were wonderful, from the pre-op nurse to the pastoral staff who explained our options in honouring Lyric at the St Boniface Memorial service for those who have gone through miscarriage, neonatal and infant death. It brought so much comfort laying there in the hospital bed, knowing that 25 years ago families came together to start this program and that we surely were not alone in this journey, as isolated as I had been feeling.

.

Three days after my D&C, something went wrong. It was 3:00 am and after feeling off all day, I was in severe pain, bleeding and cramping all night, until we finally decided to go to the St B ER at 8:00 am. I was so thankful not to wait long, as we were brought into a private room, due to the nature of my visit. As we waited once again for a doctor to arrive, I broke down in that room. My body went limp, as I tried to reconcile with the fact that here I was again – all this physical pain being an intense reminder of the fact that Lyric was gone, and that this most certainly was not just a bad dream.

.

Brant went pale. It was so painful. I felt violated and disrespected. It all felt wrong.

.

The doctor who came in was obviously not happy to be there, explaining to me that he was supposed to be at the lake, and instead was on hour 19 of his shift. He was not happy. He continued, without warning, to insert metal clamps into me, not giving Branton the option to leave the room, as Brant went pale. It was so painful. I felt violated and disrespected. It all felt wrong. I felt like I was in a downward spiral. Although I requested an ultrasound, we were instead sent for an Xray. The doctor informed me I likely had an infection, and started an IV of antibiotics, along with a prescription. I was crying to my mom, telling her I just had a feeling that it was not an infection. I didn’t know what it was, felt strongly something else was wrong. (I ended up reporting this doctor, with the help of Leslie who put me in contact the right people who needed to know what had happened.)

.

Well two days after taking the antibiotics, I was once again cramping and clotting, this time the pain was worse than any I have ever experienced. Branton was so angry – angry that he had to witness this again and feel helpless that he couldn’t make it better. I asked to go to Concordia this time, as I was still quite shook from our latest experience in the ER at St Boniface

.

I was screaming as we pushed through the ER doors at Concordia, and was plopped down in a wheelchair as soon as we got through the door. I must have looked pretty bad, as we were pushed straight through to a bed immediately, receiving an IV of morphine shortly after. The pain was unbearable. By this point I felt like a walking experiment. It was already 10:00 pm by the time we arrived, and so the ultrasound technician had already gone home. I managed a few hours of sleep thanks to the morphine, with Branton sleeping in the chair across from me. First thing the next morning, I was sent for yet another ultrasound, which resulted in the doctor’s informing me I did not have an infection – in fact the antibiotics only worsened my pain. Truth was, there was still “product” remaining in my uterus. I hated the term, “product”, yet at the same time could not fathom a more appropriate term. Remnants of the life we lost? Sounded so morbid. So sad. We were told that morning that I would be transferred to St B for another D&C that afternoon.

.

The transfer team that came to pick me up and bring me to St B were awesome. The best. I felt that we were friends. But I suppose spending eight hours in an ER hallway will do that to you. My mom bought Vega protein bars for them as they waited, and I eyed them with envy as I was so weak with hunger by this point. It wasn’t until 9:00 pm that evening, that a gynecologist finally came to see me, as I was near passing out from having no food or drink for over 20 hours. I was then told that I would not have surgery that night, and would be sent up to Floor 6 for the night, as we would wait again for surgery the next morning.

.

Once again recovering from surgery in the hospital room, I asked to speak with pastoral care. This is when I first met Leslie, who held my hand, let me be angry, and prayed with me. This time the option wasn’t given to me. Likely forgotten off the checklist I suppose, and I understand how it could be possible with a busy shift of nurses. However, it is so important for women to receive this wonderful support, and to be invited to the Memorial.

Photos from Lyric’s Memorial

.

A “Chemical Pregnancy”

Our Arianna

Eight months after losing Lyric, and trying once again to conceive, with thoughts that we would never get another chance, we once again got the call that we were pregnant on November 17^th. This time felt different, and strangely, I felt so confident that this would be the baby we would bring home. Except, the morning after that excited call, I started bleeding. We learned we lost again, this time deemed a “chemical pregnancy”. We named her Arianna, a name that came to me hours after finding out, and surprised me at how quickly a name was so boldly in my mind for her. I realize it was so brief, and we lost her so early, but it was incredible at the heartache that once again ensued. I believe that at the point of conception, there is life. This living, growing, being was real, and we will honour and respect her life.

.

“Two & A Half” Miscarriages

Or Three Lives?

“Miscarriages happen all the time – you just so happened to get attached to yours.”

.

Just two months after Arianna, on February 7^th, we once again found out we were pregnant. We were nervous… but again optimistic, as what would the chances be of losing three pregnancies in a row? My OB put me on 200mg of progesterone and one baby aspirin a day. At week 8, we nervously went for our first ultrasound, which we were so relived and thankful to have heard a heartbeat and see the little one on the screen. However, again, one week later, I started feeling nervous, even to the point of breaking down one evening in tears, and telling Branton I just felt like we lost this one too. We decided to have faith, call upon our church community for prayer, and believe it would be okay. We waited until the 12 week mark to go for a second ultrasound. I was extremely nervous, and a complete wreck, as a week earlier we were in the OB’s office and the Doppler could not pick up a heartbeat. I was clearly nervous and my OB thought it appropriate to “ease” my mind by saying, “Miscarriages happen all the time – you just so happened to get attached to yours.” Yeah – those words definitely didn’t help.

.

On April 8^th of this year, at our 12 week ultrasound, we were once again hit head on with those words, “I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.” Those words do not get any easier, no matter how many times we’ve heard them ring true. Again we spent two nights at a hotel (aimed for one, but needed the second), and thankfully were scheduled for a D&C just two days after hearing the news. I was so grateful to be scheduled so quickly, as the two week wait with Lyric was so difficult, especially not knowing what to expect. During that second night in the hotel, we named her Lael, meaning Belonging to God. For she is where she belongs, and was born into a perfect heaven. You can read more of our experience and feelings going through losing Lael by reading my first post, Miscarriage… it [still] really sucks…

.

After surgery with Lael, I asked our OB if we could now finally get genetic testing to see if there was something deeper wrong, that we can be aware of before becoming pregnant again. She told me we can only have genetic testing done after a third miscarriage. Confused, thinking maybe I heard her wrong through all the drugs, I replied, “Well, we have had three miscarriages?” She replied, “You’ve really only have had two and a half.” WOW. How do you count half a life? How do you diminish our heartache after knowingly losing Arianna? Why does a chemical pregnancy not count when looking to have testing done to understand our condition? Stunned, I just stared at her, not able to speak. She soon after left the room.

.

Life After Loss

Our Decision on TTC

Life after loss looks a lot different now than it did after Lyric and Arianna. I was so consumed with not only grief, but also forcing as much testing as I could, acupuncture, reflexology, naturopathic visits, supplements, daily morning temperature and other charting. It was all-consuming. All I could think about was trying to get pregnant again, and fill this void in our empty arms. Always on the fore-front of my mind was, “Did I stress too much today?” “I wonder if my temperature is off because I didn’t get enough sleep last night.” “I should be ovulating this week.” “Did I remember to take my second round of prenatals?”

.

After losing Lael, I felt very strongly (and was advised) to take some time off from trying to conceive. Not only to balance out the hormones from the past 16 months of craziness, but to also give my mind a break. I stopped charting, worrying about a ton of supplements, going for weekly acupuncture and reflexology appoints, and stressing to try and figure out when I’m ovulating. It has been such a treat. I can honestly say a weight has been lifted off my shoulders as we take a breather. I’m now more present with friends and family, and at work. I’m allowing my body to rest and my mind to focus on other things. To enjoy the summer, enjoy our new home (which in and of itself is a work in progress!), and enjoy each other. We will get back on the ttc train soon enough, but not for the next few months. I’m looking forward to a rejuvenating break and trying again when the time is right.

.

These women who have gone through pregnancy and infant loss are seriously not only the sweetest, most genuine women I’ve encountered, but also so strong and brave.

.

If I tried to recap our emotional landscape throughout our experience, I would imagine it would look a lot like mountains and valleys. From pure joy from learning we were carrying life, to gut wrenching heart ache when we lost that life over again. To feelings of confusion and jealousy as we witnessed friend after friend announcing their pregnancies and having healthy babies, growing their family.  Finding love and comfort from our community of family and friends that left me in awe of the heart and generous spirit of so many wonderful people. The wonder of all the amazing women (and men) we’ve met along the way that certainly would not have crossed our path without Lyric. These women who have gone through pregnancy and infant loss are seriously not only the sweetest, most genuine women I’ve encountered, but also so strong and brave. Perhaps they have an extra little someone watching over, giving them courage and strength. I am beyond grateful to know these women. Also, that even those who did not experience this pain would take the time to share a word of hope, encouragement, compassion with us.

.

I would have to say that aside from our faith in God, and the comfort we find in Him, community was one of the biggest factors in rising strong again. Sharing our story forced me to open up and be vulnerable about our story and what happened. It also made everything seem that much more real, which although was hard at times, I believe has been necessary in my healing. You can read more about what helped and what didn’t on my post What I’ve Learned From Those Who Comforted Me During Infertility and Loss

.

It is so uplifting to see more support programs and professional development for service providers in this area coming up. Although there is much work to be done to better the care for those going through pregnancy and infant loss, there is positive change happening now in our city to support these families.  It seemed near impossible to summarize our three babies lives into 20 minutes, and I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to speak of them during this workshop, and speak again in just two weeks, Thank you to all those nurses, social workers, counselors, admin staff, and all service providers in perinatal care, choosing each day to work in what can be at times a selfless job, caring and supporting women in our city. And a big thank you to all those who chose to attend the workshop, to care even more to better understand and support women going through pregnancy and infant loss. You are all wonderful.

.

For those in the healthcare profession, there will be a second workshop on Friday, June 16th at the Winnipeg Birth Center. You can register here.