Loss: One year later

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{Originally published on November 4, 2011}

It’s been one year ago since we found out our baby was no longer with us. Ā It’s been a year of ups and downs. Ā It’s been hard. Ā There is no other way to say it. Ā We are so very grateful and blessed knowing that our newest work in progress is doing well, but we savor each day with her.

This is a journal entry I sent to Mr. Serious just days after everything happened.

He wasn’t with me at the doctor’s appointment. Ā He never knew everything that happened until I wrote it out. Ā I needed to write it out. It’s not pretty. Ā There is nothing happy about this journal entry. Ā In fact, some of it’s pretty horrible. Ā I cried writing it. Ā I’ve cried reading it. Ā But, maybe it will help somebody. Ā Maybe it will help you understand somebody in your life.

{I participated in Listen to Your Mother in 2015 and read a version of this. You can see the video and read about it.}

I am so far from okay.Ā  I want to be okay, but I know I’m not.

Our baby died.Ā  Died.

I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.

I wonder, how do I answer people when they ask how many kids we have?Ā  Because we have 3.Ā  We really do.Ā  We have an angel baby in Heaven, and two we are lucky to have here.Ā  I want to acknowledge our baby.Ā  I don’t know how.

How do I not cry when I see people that are pregnant?Ā  Have new babies?Ā  Or even worse?Ā  Abandon their babies or don’t want them?Ā  I couldn’t comprehend it before, and I really can’t now.

I don’t know if I ever told you about the visit at the doctor on that day.Ā  They day we learned we would never be able to hold our baby, or watch him grow.

I explained to the midwife that I wasn’t able to find a heartbeat with the doppler, and showed her the one I was using (which was identical to hers).Ā  I told her I was trying not to be worried.Ā  However, it was obvious that she was.Ā  #2 climbed up on the table with me, and the midwife only tried for a second.Ā  She then said she wanted to get the ultrasound machine to “find exactly where this baby is.”Ā  It was that roll-y ultrasound, like the one with the first doctor.Ā  She had angled the screen so I couldn’t see it.Ā  I knew.Ā  She said “this baby is too still, I want to get a tech to use her ultrasound.”

I lost it.Ā  I knew.Ā  I was crying.Ā  And, walking down the hall.Ā  And, holding #2.

And, I laid down on the other table.Ā  The one in the tech’s room.Ā  #2 was scared.Ā  She wanted to be with me.Ā  She didn’t want the probe on me.Ā  I think she thought it was hurting me (because I was crying).Ā  The tech put the probe on my belly and immediately turned the screen away from me.Ā  She didn’t say anything.Ā  She just shook her head “no.”Ā  I don’t really remember exactly what happened.Ā  I know she took some measurements to find out just how old the baby was (between 13-14 weeks) and that the midwife called you and gave you directions.

I wish I would have asked to look.Ā  I wish I would have asked for a picture.Ā  Just one more glimpse of our sweet, precious baby.

Then, I was walked to the office where you met us.Ā  Our stuff was already moved in the office.Ā  Our room was already taken over.Ā  With another new mom.Ā  Another mom waiting to hear her baby’s heartbeat.

I sat in that office.Ā  It hadn’t settled in.Ā  #2 was trying to touch the lamps and playing with an elephant figurine.

I didn’t know what was going to happen.

Our baby had died 3-4 weeks before and my body hadn’t acknowledged it.Ā  I knew that something was going to have to be done.

The midwife came and and told me of our options, the DNE or some seaweed thing with labor and delivery.Ā  In that moment, I didn’t think I could handle labor and delivery.Ā  Now, I am constantly questioning if I made the right decision.Ā  I know the baby wouldn’t have looked like a baby.Ā  But, we would have been able to see him.Ā  Hold him.Ā  Say goodbye.Ā  I know it’s just a body.Ā  But, there is something about that part of the mourning process.Ā  To help believe.Ā  The proof.

When you got there, I didn’t know what to say.Ā  I was and am so sorry.Ā  I know you wanted this baby as much, if not more than I did.Ā  And, I couldn’t give you that.Ā  I hope and want to know that one day I can, but in that moment, I knew I had failed.Ā  Even if it’s not my fault, I still failed.Ā  And, I don’t do failure well.Ā  I don’t know how.

When I had to sign the consent form, it was so clinical. I know it has to be, but seeing the words “fetal demise” on a piece of paper about me and our baby?Ā  It sure hurt.Ā  And, then the procedure “to empty the contents of the uterus.”Ā  I know you don’t want to know this, but it’s almost haunting me.Ā  The contents of my uterus were the body of our unborn baby.Ā  It wasn’t like it was just fluid or a cyst.Ā  It had been a real-life living baby.Ā  And now, it’s just “contents?”Ā  So, I tried to protect you from this.Ā  But, I just can’t.

I’m so glad you were able to talk to the doctor’s office when they called, and that you knew what to do, because I had absolutely no idea.

I really don’t know how I slept that night.Ā  Somehow I did.Ā  I think you held me.Ā  And, I was selfish.Ā  I wasn’t comforting you.Ā  And, you lost your child, too.Ā  It’s not just me.Ā  It’s just that I had to physically endure the loss, too.

The surgery was terrible.Ā  I don’t understand why you have to be alone.Ā  Why can’t they allow somebody to be there with you when you are going to sleep?Ā  I was so scared and felt so alone, and crying.Ā  And, there wasn’t anybody there to comfort me.Ā  And, I couldn’t see a damn thing.Ā  And, they strapped down my arms.Ā  Gave me some medicine (that burned, A LOT) and then I was asleep.Ā  I know I went under crying.

And, when I came to?Ā  I was crying.Ā  And, in a lot of pain.Ā  And, there were people all around me, but I don’t really remember it all until I really woke up.Ā  I know the nurse gave me a lot of medicine and said I was bleeding a lot.Ā  She wouldn’t let me have ice.Ā  She was worried I would have to go back into the OR because of the bleeding.Ā  Then, she gave me more medicine.

She told me about her losses.Ā  She had two.Ā  I asked her how you get okay, and she said at some point, it doesn’t hurt as much, but it’s always there.Ā  It was a little comforting having somebody take care of me that understood what I was going through.Ā  But, I still don’t understand how you couldn’t be there with me.Ā  To hold me, and to hold my hand.Ā  You are in a room with strangers coming out of anesthesia and none of them had the same thing happen to them, and you really feel alone.Ā  Instead, I’ve got a stranger changing bloody pads and wiping me with washcloths.

When I finally got the ice chips (after begging for them), they were the best ice chips I’ve ever had.

I got to the point where I was asking when I would be able to leave recovery.Ā  I needed to see you.Ā  I needed you to hold me.Ā  I think I was asking for an hour before they finally let me leave.

When we got home, the girls seemed like they grew up overnight.Ā  I wanted to hold them and never let go.Ā  To touch their perfect little hands, and faces.Ā  I don’t think I fully realized the miracles they are until this all happened.Ā Ā  I didn’t realize how much God has blessed us (and I always knew He had, but just realized how much)…I hope that makes sense.

And, the fact that #1 understood what happened…when she understood even when we didn’t tell her?Ā  I don’t even know what to do with that.Ā  She should never have to understand that.Ā  Ever.

And, every day, I cry a little less, but it doesn’t hurt any less.Ā  I think there are minutes when I forget, or don’t remember, and then it comes flying at me like a ton of bricks.

I think of it like a surgery, and then I remember that it wasn’t just surgery.

I am sad that I didn’t think about the baby’s remains.Ā  It didn’t even dawn on me.Ā  I just signed the form.Ā  Should we have kept them?Ā  Put them somewhere special for us?Ā  But, it’s too late to think about that now.

And, then it dawns on me.Ā  The baby’s heart stopped beating around the time we were at Stone Mountain.Ā  Maybe it was just at that time?Ā  And, maybe it is perfect that eventually, the baby’s remains will be there.Ā  Sort of fitting, maybe?

Should we have a name for the baby?Ā  So that we can refer to him as a person with a name.Ā  I keep saying “him.”Ā  I keep thinking it was a boy (even though I was certain #1 was a boy).Ā  And, yet, I think I knew that the name we picked wasn’t for him.Ā  Does that make sense?Ā  Maybe it’s for another little boy down the road?Ā  And, not this boy?

I think my brain is just spinning. Full of thoughts and yet, a lack of thoughts.Ā  Full of ideas and yet, completely empty and not able to make any decisions.

And, I really just don’t know what to do.Ā  I feel like anything I do is “moving on” and I don’t know if that’s honoring our baby.Ā  Nothing feels right.Ā  It feels like motions but not actions.

I love you.Ā  I love our family.Ā  I know that God loves us and I know that He wants me to find joy.Ā  I also know that He is okay with me not finding all of the joy right now, and finding little glimpses of it here and there.

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57 Comments

  1. Krystyn – such a a beautiful heart wrenching post. I am so sorry you had to go through that. I have lost two souls. One before Jonathan that my body knew what to do so no surgery was required. But the second one was before Miss Courtney and I will never forget the panic of not hearing the heartbeat, or the look on the nurses face as she was doing the sonogram. I had to go in and and have a similar procedure. I was only 10 weeks along but it was a wonderful exciting 10 weeks. I know those babies watch over their siblings here. When people ask me how many children I have, I say two in heaven and two that walk the earth. It’s been 24 and 20 years respectively for each loss. I hold them in my heart. I grieve for them quietly. The heaviness of your heart does get lighter in time but it will always be there.
    Know you are loved dear cousin and so is your little angel baby. Blessings and grace to you and your hubby on this day.
    Hugs from VA!

    1. It helps knowing that they are in some loving arms and hands up there! And, knowing that one day we will get to see them again.

  2. Breathe. I can only just breathe as I wipe away the tears I’ve cried on your behalf. Thank you for sharing such intimate thoughts with me. Thank you for your honesty and authenticity. Thank you for being willing to show your words in order to help someone else. I am in awe of you. I wish I could reach through the computer to hug you myself. I hope God’s peace was with you today. I pray He breathes His heavy breath of love, peace, and wholeness all over you. You are loved and never alone. You are so brave. I wish you didn’t have to know how to be strong. And in the times when you can’t see that you are brave and strong I hope you remember it’s okay to be weak- His strength is made perfect in our weakness. I think you should eat cake today. Lots of cake. šŸ˜‰

    1. Thank you Jennifer for your kind words. It really is nice to hear that my words can help somebody else, but also to know that I can be brave and not brave, and both ways I will be okay and I will get through.

  3. I wish that was something that you never had to endure. You’re so strong to share this with us. I’m sure it will help another mother/family who goes through this.

    I really wish I could give you a big hug right now. I’m just so sorry, my friend. Thinking of you and your sweet family…

  4. Aww crap. I’m crying. I suffered a miscarriage too, and never wrote about it. I wish I had. I think about it often. I wish I’d had the strength to talk to people, tell them what I needed from them. Instead I hid, and carried on with my life. I’m not sure I ever grieved properly.

    1. It is hard to figure out how to grieve. I didn’t want to talk about it for a while. And, I selectively talk about it with people now.

      It’s never to late to grieve or talk about it.

  5. ((hugs)) What a beautiful, honest post. You have touched so many people just by writing and sharing it. Sending prayers your way.

  6. Jethro will always be remembered and loved. I’m so glad me and Uncle David were able to ‘meet’ Jethro….it’s an experience we won’t ever forget. I am so thankful we had Jethro close to our hearts on our big day..the whole Serious family was there to support us! Love you!!

  7. (((HUGS))) There aren’t really any words that I can say that will bring more comfort or that can take the burden away at all but know that you have been prayed for. I have a good friend that had her sweet little 6 week old pass away from SIDS ago and I know her writing on her blog about it has helped several people. I hope that someone else can also find comfort from your story and the feeling of being alone!

    1. I hope that sharing helps women talk about it more. It’s so taboo and it shouldn’t be. Like we are embarrassed to talk about it.

  8. I have no words to share, just prayers and a virtual hug. God bless!

  9. Krystyn – I can never fully understand the pain you went through. I know I cried when I found out you lost your son and thought about you often in those months that followed. I’m struggling to find the right thing to say even now. Thank you for sharing such a personal part of your life.

    1. I’m not sure I can fully understand the pain sometimes, but it does get better. And, I have no idea what the right thing to say is, either.

      I think hugs are best:)

  10. Thank you for sharing this…for sharing your voice and your heart and your journey.

    We have so much to talk about when we meet in person someday. I have an angel baby, too.

    Sending you lots of love today as you continue to heal and remember and celebrate that baby.

    1. Thank you Ryan. It’s definitely not a club I want us to be a member of.

      I remember reading about your garden thinking how great of an idea. I think I know what I want to do, I just have to make it happen.

      Thinking of you and your angel baby, too.

  11. This was so touching. I really don’t know what to say but I wanted to acknowledge that I read your letter and that I am thinking of you.

    1. Thank you, Rebecca. I know it’s hard to know what to say. I don’t even know what to say to me.

  12. Wow. Thank you for that. These losses need to be talked about more. Women need to know that they are not alone.

    So much of what you wrote resonated with me. So many similar feelings, and especially questioning the decision not to look at or take the baby’s remains. It was tough.

    1. It is so sad to me that we don’t talk about it. We are embarrassed and ashamed I think. And, even though we know it deep down, the mom instinct in us makes us blame ourselves. It’s so taboo.

      But, I see by your post, you are 21 weeks now. Congrats to you! I’m now almost 28 weeks.

        1. I tried to comment on your blog, but I had to login?

          I wanted to say, I totally get it. I never wanted to tell people this time. My husband wanted to tell people immediately, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to “untell” people either. And, I find myself in the same place, too. Not wanting to fully prepare. Not wanting to set up the crib, etc, because it scares the bejezzesus out of me.

  13. grandma Pat says:

    I will never forget your voice on the phone call when you called to tell me. It was so hard watching one of my babies go through what you and Matt did. I was very glad Joe, Emily and I could all be there for all of you. It still breaks my heart a year later.

  14. Sweet girl, I am so sorry.

    Just know you are loved. Lots. And by many. Your whole family is.

    My heart hurts for you.

    1. Thanks, Alex. It’s hard to share, but I feel like we need to. It’s so hush hush and nobody wants to talk about it, and we all end up feeling alone. And, then you mention something to somebody and before you know it, in a room full of women, many of them have been through the same experience.

  15. I’m so sorry you lost your baby. I agree that its not something you ever really forget. Its something that haunts you in the back of your mind. I remember hearing it is kind of like a mom club that no one wants to be a part of and that is kind of true I suppose.

    Thank you for sharing. I know it wasn’t easy. I hope this reaches ears (or eyes) that need it.

    1. Yes, it is definitely a club that nobody should be a member of. And, yet, the more you talk about it, the more you realize that there are way to many members.

  16. Girl you got me crying. I’m 15 weeks pregnant and I can only imagine what you went throught. It must have been so hard – must still be – and I wish you didn’t have to suffer that loss =( No body should =(
    I don’t think “moving on” is dishonoring your baby’s memory because you still have to be there for your girls and the fact that you think about him everyday is proof enough of how much you care for that little one.
    I pray for your grief to be lighter on your shoulders and may your baby boy always be in your heart, your little guardian angel!

    1. Thank you. I do think it gets a little lighter, but you are right, he’s always in my heart.

  17. Thank you for sharing this with us. It is so personal, but I think you are right, it will really help someone (probably lots of someones). It helps others to know they are not alone. And I am SO GLAD that you wrote this for your hubby, so that you can both be there for each other, and let each other know exactly what your feelings are. When you go through something so difficult I think it can either make or break a relationship and I bet it brought you two even closer.
    I am so sorry for your loss. Hugs and prayers for you and your beautiful family.

    1. It helped me to know that I wasn’t alone, so hopefully, somebody else, too.

      And, I’m glad I have a husband that I felt like I could write that to and share with him. It definitely did bring us closer together.

  18. Oh Krystyn. I am so sorry. So sorry. I have never been through this and it helps to understand it a little more reading your words of this horrible day.

    hugs to you friend. hugs to you and your family.

  19. so many emotions and thoughts and tears went into this post, I’m sure. please know that many prayers are being offered on your behalf. I can’t imagine the hurt and the pain that you feel but just know that this post is one more step in healing. You will find that special way to honor and remember your baby, whether through something in your home or planting a tree or choosing a name for the baby. And when you find that something, you will know it is the right thing. Hugs!

    1. Thanks, Jennilee. I think I figured out what I want to do…I just have to find it!

  20. Krystyn,
    Such a moving journal post! And we always look back at times in our lives and so “If only…” Your words bring back to me a baby I lost 29 years ago. I am sad now that I looked at it so differently then. I was 16 with a 3 month old, married, but in no way prepared for another child. I hate to type these words, but I planned to have an abortion. God saved me many later years of heartache, as I miscarried before that was possible. Sometimes I do think “if only…” but it seems so long ago, another lifetime ago.
    Big hugs to you…
    Bernice

    1. I can’t imagine. No matter what your plans or intentions, loss is still hard and it hurts. And, even if you had gone through with your plans, I imagine you still would think about it, too.

  21. I know your pain Krystyn.
    Just wanted to send you a big hug after reading this post.
    The pain lessens, especially after the arrival of a new little precious baby, but I’m sure it won’t go away. And I’m OK with that. I don’t want to forget.
    x Tania

    1. Thanks, Tania. For the hugs and the understanding and telling me it’s okay. Sometimes, we just need to hear that.

  22. Oh Kristen. I don’t even know what to comment. Big hugs and love to you. I’m so sorry you had to endure this.

    1. It’s a tough one. I don’t even know what to say to me! Hugs are great.

  23. I’m so sorry you had to experience this type of pain. I hope you and your family will be okay soon. And I’m happy you have wonderful people in your life to help you mourn and heal.

    1. Krystyn — I don’t have words, I really don’t. I read this at work and needed to go out for a walk after. It’s just so wrong. And I’m sorry.

      1. Thank you! Sorry to have you upset at work. It is definitely one of those times you want to say life isn’t fair!

  24. {HUG} I imagine every loss is so different – so personal – and yet so much the same. I’m sorry you had to suffer the loss of a baby.

  25. While I’ve read your story before, reading it again now hits home in a big way. My 2nd loss is still very fresh, and I’ve learned that this experience is a very raw, personal pain that we seem to endure alone. I hope that the pain has lessened for you over time. *hugs* We will never forget, however…

    I too don’t know how to comfort my husband. šŸ™

    1. The husband part takes it to the next level for sure. I’ve been thinking about you guys a lot. I feel like every year I don’t want to do anything or post or reshare, and every year I do and it’s happened to somebody else I know.

      1. And that is the worst part. It happens to so many on a daily basis. I never knew how huge infertility and loss was until I experienced them both myself. It’s such an enormous things, with enormous consequences. šŸ™ *hugs*

  26. Jamie Davis says:

    I’m 15 weeks pregnant and I try not to think about this stuff but I know it’s a possibility and I’m not immune to such a tragic loss. I focus on preparing for our son and get hearing the things he needs. But I also worry that these things, his things will haunt me if we lose him. For now we are healthy pair of nesting dolls, filling each other with life.

  27. Crying reading this. I was with my son at the OB for a routine check during my 2nd pregnancy, but felt something just wasn’t right which led to my ultrasound and news that there was no heartbeat. My poor 3 year old was so strong for me that day. No idea what was going on and why mommy was crying, but let me hold him so many, many times. I did end up (mostly) miscarrying naturally. No surgery. But goodness it was still awful and I can relate so much to your feelings in this. Even almost 3 years since that loss, 2-1/2 since my second one, I still think of those babies every day and hug my two here extra tight. You’re right. I appreciated my son before, but now really know how special and precious my babies are.

    1. Our kids have no idea how much we lean on them, do we? My oldest took it exceptionally hard. She hasn’t asked in the last year or two, but I expect she will randomly ask in the future.

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