Bye Bye Baby | My Missed Miscarriage
I never imagined that the first time I’d see my first ever baby she wouldn’t be alive.
Laying in a dimmed room, in the illumination of the monitor, I saw my baby, like a little sleeping hippo, cocooned in the safety of my belly. But she was still. Suspended in time, no heart beat from the motionless shape on the screen. In a moment my life’s hopes and dreams had been snuffed out.
Thinking I was 9 weeks due, my little hippo had quietly slipped away at 8+3 days. I was expecting to see her for the first time but only her shadow waited for me.
I was told this is what you call a missed miscarriage. My body, still assuming a baby to nurture, carried on being pregnant, feeling sore and delicate, unknown of the fact the life within had silently moved on.
I cried while the scan probe was still inside me. Vulnerable, I wept with my heart hollowed out, broken with grief and embarrassment for failing. While I’d spent the weeks preceding stressing about pain and negligible worries, the line had been drawn in the sand.
Through tidal waves of emotions I’ve felt sadness, emptiness, failure and grief. I’ve felt guilty and angry, bitter that it had to happen to me. For all my imperfections, why was another woman more deserving than me?
The cruel reality of my miscarriage has felt like a lifetime in limbo. Waiting for the painful inevitable – the cramping and blood that wouldn’t deliver a healthy baby but bid farewell to a life cut short, in agony and a wash of tears.
Had I bled during my weeks leading up to the scan I may have doubted all was okay, even expected the shock yet to come. Instead everything about me said I was still pregnant after the scan revealed the end.
I’m not pregnant. I’ve not yet miscarried. It’s like dying and being stuck in the tunnel.
But, like season drifting into season, it’s now time for me to say goodbye. The constant gnawing grows each day as I draw closer to the finish line. It hurts. I don’t know if I’ll see anything of a little life but I pause and ponder each time I shed away.
My tiny miracle didn’t work out how I expected but I don’t doubt the reasoning of her existence. She was hope and brought hope for the short time we had her, and while I struggle with the raw reality of grief, God gave me Hope to believe that life can change, does, and will again.
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J
July 30, 2015 at 12:55 amSo sorry for your loss. Sending prayers as you come to terms with the loss of your baby.
Kate S.
July 30, 2015 at 2:06 amI’m so sorry for your loss.
Ryan
July 30, 2015 at 3:53 amHello Becky,
I’m so sorry to hear of your tragedy. My heart sincerely goes out to you. I hope that you’ll be okay. I know it sounds like an old cliche, but I sincerely hope that time will help heal you both physically and emotionally.
Paul C.
July 30, 2015 at 4:17 amI’m terribly sorry to read this. Heartbreaking. I’ve had a number of friends deal with similar situations and I can’t imagine the heart break.
Darci
July 30, 2015 at 7:32 ami am so sorry for your loss, and thank you for sharing your story.
Sophie
July 30, 2015 at 7:47 amI am so extremely sorry! I have my prayers with you and your family.
Alan Barton
July 30, 2015 at 11:54 amSo sorry to hear of this.
No one can find words at times like this
Take care and look after yourself
Wencillia
July 30, 2015 at 5:02 pmI follow your blog for two years… So, know that my thoughts turned to you and I hope you’ll overcome this event in the best way possible. (I apologize if my English is a bit confused I am French).
June Newman
August 1, 2015 at 9:33 amHello Becky. So sorry for your loss. This happened to me at 16 weeks. Words cannot describe the feelings of loss. I used to beat myself up every day, questioning what l did wrong. That was 21 January 1987 … I remember every year xx
Nick
August 24, 2015 at 7:55 amHi Becky
I am so sorry for your loss. I almost lost my wife after she gave birth to our first daughter. I have no idea though how to understand the pain your loss is causing you. I will pray that God will bring healing to your body and soul. That in time you will be able, not to move on, but to move forward. Strangely enough, I actually discovered your blog while searing for DD+ nursing bras and post-nursing bras for my wife. Without some of the advice I found here, I wouldn’t have had a clue what to buy her, and she’s still be wearing nasty old ill-fitting things falling apart at the seams.