I braced my hands against the sink in our bathroom and I choked out the words, “What do you pack when you’re going to the hospital to give birth to your dead baby?” My husband looked at me, just as shocked as I was to be facing this. His arms tried to comfort, but all I could feel was pain.
Every pregnant woman’s worst nightmare became a living thing for me, just an hour before.
My perky obstetrician’s smile stayed in place even when the doppler couldn’t find the heartbeat at my 18 week appointment. “We’ll just take a quick picture with the ultrasound, that’ll be more fun anyway!” she chirped happily.
But it wasn’t. The fuzzy black screen showed the same thing we’d heard on the doppler. Nothing. A perfectly formed baby, but his heart was deathly still.
I’ve never heard so many “I’m sorry’s”, but I was so angry because I didn’t want her to be sorry. I just wanted her to fix it.
The shock and grief are more than I can bear, and I am undone.
Somehow my feet carried me back to the hospital. I checked in at the desk where they usually see nervous and frantic mothers. Walked past the nursery and heard the cries of healthy newborns, back to the quiet room where I would give birth.
There was a sign on the door. A leaf and a raindrop. A signal to all that this room was not for giving birth to life.
My nurse was another Emily. The first thing I remember her saying was, “I’m probably going to sit and cry with you all night.” And she did. Every time I woke up from my drug haze she was hovering nearby, teary-eyed.
I don’t know if that Emily was a believer, but she spoke such Love to me on the worst night of my life.
And when she takes my hand gently around my IV, eyes swimming with grief for a stranger, again I am undone.
At home again, and stunned in our grief, we were overwhelmed by those who sought to ease our load, even a bit, with a hot meal. Friends and strangers, heard our story and just wanted to do something.
“It’s such a small thing,” they said, shrugging helplessly. But I shook my head, fighting the tears, and said, “ No. No, this is not just food.”
This is love poured out and Jesus-with-skin-on to me.
My girl Amber, she hugged me tight and in my ear she asked, “Are you talkin’ to God?” And I nodded my head, but what I couldn’t choke out past the tears was this:
“For the first time in years it feels like He’s talking to ME.”
His quiet voice is finally echoing again through my soul, and I am undone.
I drove a few hours away, to spend the week with family, wrapped tight in their embrace. And as my 3 year old son slept solid in the backseat, I pounded the steering wheel with my frustration.
“The injustice, God!” I cried out. “My baby boy, Lord, WHY?!”
And the next song that came through my speakers was this old hymn:
How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure
How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory
The road blurred in front of me, and my heart was broken again. My Father knew my pain, shared in it, even.
In fact, his son was sacrificed for me.
From the moment I saw that positive pregnancy test, I believed that seeing that flicker of a heartbeat would spark a spiritual rebirth for me, but it seems it was its ceasing that broke through my walls.
So I begin to see that I am undone, so that I can be rebuilt and renewed.
{ 107 comments… read them below or add one }
Emily,
thank you for sharing your loss. I had my son stillborn 37 years ago. I remember that day of not hearing the heartbeat when we most definitely should have and being sent to the hospital for xrays. There was little information and support back then and I am so thankful today that women can find others willing to share their pain so that we know we are not alone.
His love,
darlene
Thank you, Darlene, for sharing your story with me. I’m so grateful for the support I’ve had.
A comment on a blog post is less than even a hot meal, but I hope you hear more love poured out here too. I’m still hurting after a recent miscarriage – had a good cry over this post, for both of us. Praying for you, sister.
Oh, thank you Belle! I’m praying for you as well.
Truth severing through flesh and heart and soul, teary eyed in a work-place cubicle. “So I begin to see that I am undone…” I love that it doesn’t end there. I’m blown away.
Thank you, S.
an di am undone just reading this. stopping to pray for you right now.
I appreciate that so much, Kendal.
i have been that nurse. and i have been undone.
and each of those little ones, they live on in my memory. engraved on the walls of my heart. and my only comfort is in knowing that HE KNOWS. and that they sing and dance and worship in His presence this day.
so, so sorry for your loss. you have written about it beautifully, and i pray that is an important part of your healing.
steph
Thank you for what you do, you have touched people more than you know.
your words encourage me- you are showing me that HE IS INVOLVED. i’m on a journey of discovering just that. and daily I am seeing his involvement in the lives of those around me in real life and online. this must be so hard to share but i’m grateful.
and i love a friend like amber that will point us in the right direction of talking to Him.
praying for you.
melissa
I’ve been reading your posts on that Melissa… thanks so much friend.
WHY?
I am sitting next to you in the questions. WHY? It shouldn’t be this way. It should not have been this way for you or for anyone.
You write with such clarity and honesty here. My heart is always with you, praying comfort and healing. Wish I could wrap you up in a hug.
Wish I could give you a big hug too, Megan. We need to make that happen soon.
i have been that mama. not nearly so far along as you were, but i too went to a place of birth-giving only to imagine what it would have been like, months later, in some other dimension, to come there instead because of life. wondering ~who~ it was, that wasn’t going to be going home with us to learn to giggle, cuddle, crawl and be adored like my other babies… and hearing from ~WHO~ knit my inmost parts…in the depths of my sorrow, psalm 139 resounding in my heart more deeply than I knew possible.
I know, Nancy. I think sorrow over not getting to know that little person is the hardest part. Praying for you tonight too.
so, oh! thank you for sharing your heart, your pain…i will pray for continued healing and walking close with the One who knows you best, more meals and love and hugs, and hope in the form of –panera goodies it was for me, and ice cream– when i got around to feeling like eating again…dropped off by dear ones who also felt helpless but held my hand anyway.
I had a friend send a Cheesecake Factory cheesecake. Comfort food at it’s best.
Thanks, Nancy.
“I believed that seeing that flicker of a heartbeat would spark a spiritual rebirth for me, but it seems it was its ceasing that broke through my walls.”
Another paradox my mind can’t quite wrap around, but my heart sighs and knows it all too well.
So hard to put into words…
Agreed. But you did a beautiful job of it.
Oh Emily,
So painfully beautiful. I lost 3 times and the first 2 times I quickly felt the world telling me to get over it and move on…and I did not talk to Him. A year and a half ago though when I delivered my daughter still in the ER something happened…I went through many phases with God…why?, then an angry why? then i’ll be okay, then utter broken dark…that’s when I felt Him like never before. I could hear Him, like never, ever before; and slowly piece by piece He has taken the undone me and yes slowly but surely “rebuilt and renewed”. He still is.
I had been praying for a couple years for a deep renewal in my relationship with Jesus, never in my life imagined it would emerge from such brokenness.
Much love to you.
Jen
Thank you for sharing this, Jen. 3 times, oh I ache for you.
Precious Emily! Thank you for sharing your pain. I fully believe what you say: “From the moment I saw that positive pregnancy test, I believed that seeing that flicker of a heartbeat would spark a spiritual rebirth for me, but it seems it was its ceasing that broke through my walls.” Our greatest growth comes from our deepest pain.
Thank you Melanie, I think you are so right.
Emily, I am undone after reading that, I can’t see through the water in my eyes . . . Do you mind if I give you an extra long hug when I see you this weekend?
Erika, you don’t know me, but could you please give an extra hug to Emily for me, too?
Sure will, Georgi. I’m a real good hugger.
Not at all, can’t wait to meet you Erika!
Emily, thank you for sharing. Why is it that the hard eucharisteo that brings us close?
I remember a friend telling me after my miscarriage that to be a mother is to be a willing vessel and she pointed to Mary.
May your boy be playing with mine in heaven with our good Lord close by.
That’s a beautiful thought, Jessica… thank you so much.
emily, my heart aches and breaks and rejoices with yours. thank you for telling this hard story with such honesty and Light. xo
Thank you Suzannah!
Mine happened last December. 11 weeks along. My heart still aches when I remember that awful night. I ache now for you. But God is faithful and his strength is great. Praying for you.
I’m so sorry Cheyenne… praying for you tonight too. Thank you.
wow that was beautiful yet very painful to read I am so sorry you have an angel in heaven waiting for you. How difficult that had to have been I can’t imagine. God be with you as you continue to heal.
Thanks, Sharon.
I love you, Em. I have no words except to speak of the beauty of Jesus-through-pain in your soul. You shine Him in this unfair sacrificing of dreams, of heart, of life.
Tonight I hug you. <3
Tonight, friend. Can’t wait.
To Emily, and all of the other mama’s out there grieving for their children,
a friend of mine recently lost her baby, and has gotten involved in a group called Hope Mommies. Words cannot describe your loss, and maybe this could be a resource for other mom’s who’ve felt the same.
http://hopemommies.org/about-us/about-mission
I’m sorry. I have no words. I haven’t been where you are.
And I can see Jesus-in-skin through you to me, someone you don’t know but still sharing your passion for your faith through tragedy. Thank you. You didn’t have to share this, but you did.
*gentle hugs* Prayers and peace go with you.
Oh Wendi, I’m glad it touched you. Thank you.
The paradox in which we live… to gain life we must lose it. It’s just not how we think it will go. I have not experienced your pain as a mother, but have as a grandmother. My girl lost her first baby, finding out just as you did. No heartbeat, then an ultrasound to reveal their worst fears. How does one put it all together?
I’m so sorry for your loss, truly am…
Thank you, Julie, and I hurt for you and your daughter too.
Oh honey. This was beautiful. I am keeping you in my prayers.
Cxx
Thank you Claire… your prayers are so appreciated right now.
My tears mixed with yours as I read this post! You have masterfully described the “death” I felt during each of my 5 miscarriages and the life mercifully restored to me through God’s grace. Although it took many years and the birth of my daughter who has disabilities, to dissipate my anger and bitterness, God was faithful to stay near–unwilling to let me go.
Thank you for reminding us of the words to that haunting hymn and for sharing your heart with us. God bless you as you continue to be undone and renewed!
“God was faithful to stay near–unwilling to let me go” Yes, I feel that too. Thank you Julie. Peace be with you today.
Oh dear Emily. Every time I think of you, which has been often lately, my heart breaks for you. This story is so raw and emotional. Thank you for sharing it. It is comforting to know that our Lord has good plans for his children. I pray you find rest in His loving arms.
Thank you so much Catherine. Who could have seen the roads we would walk way back in high school? I’m happy to still call you friend.
I am crying with you, Emily. Thank you for bearing witness to your grief and inviting us to bear it with you.
Thank you Leigh. I can honestly feel my load lightened by those who are choosing to pray for me and bear it with us. It means more than I can say.
My heart breaks and aches for you, Emily. Words cannot express.
I wish I could offer more than words to you.
Thank you for your story, your heart.
It may seem small to you, Bekka, but that you would take time to comment here, offering your solace means more than you know. Thank you.
prayers for you, friend. May God fill the hole and restore you to himself in the wake of such a loss. No words are good enough, but your words touched deep. Bless you, thank you for sharing your heart so bare here. (((hugs)))
Words may not be enough, but that you would leave them here for me? Means more than you could know, Kris.
I “liked” your post, not because you lost your baby, but because of the messageS behind the loss. I cried too as I read it. There is more than one msg here… thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much Tracy.
Emily..your post has touched me deeply. I know the pain of losing a baby before they are born…..I appreciate your courage in sharing about miscarriage…..May God’s comfort and love keep you tight in His arms…….thank you for sharing…Mona
Praying for you too, Mona. It shouldn’t be so, should it? Thank you.
I am so sorry that you have to walk down this road of grief and pain. It is a glimpse of His Grace and Mercy to read that He is there with you, speaking to you. Though I don’t know you, I am praying fervently for you and your family.
Your beautiful words brought a flood of feelings from their resting place in my mind and heart. I recall so well that feeling of wanting the “sorrys” to stop and for someone to do something about it. Make it better. Bring him back. The irrationality of it was apparent even then for me, but you capture those thoughts and feelings perfectly. Thank you for sharing your journey.
Oh, Ashley, you are so right. You know it’s irrational. This pain just shouldn’t be so, should it? Thank you for sharing here.
I have no words or sayings…my mind is empty…all I can do is cry as I read this. Because of your broken heart…and His tender one…mingling thru words to form a photo of grace. ((((hugs))))
Thank you Bina, for joining in my sorrow. It means so much to me.
I empathize with you. We went through the same thing in March 2008. And strangely, I remember how close I felt to God as He walked us through that grief…more than I remember the grief itself.
Love & prayers to you & your family
Thank you, I hate that you experienced something similar, but your words give me hope.
Nothing like the loss of a child. Nothing like the gift of a child. He is amazing. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you Tom, you are so right.
I have not experienced this pain personally, but just recently, last Christmas, my sister-in-law lost her baby the same way. It was devastating. But God is good. By this Christmas, they will be having triplets! Light does come from the darkness.
What a sweet story, Shannon. Thank you for sharing here.
i ache for you. i ache for the day when we’ll all be reunited with our children. i’m so glad amber was with you. i’m so glad God was with you.
I ache for that too, Emily. And yes, I was so blessed to be surrounded by so many sweet, sweet souls. I marvel at it.
I love you. And I love your small boy. And our Jesus. xo
Love you, Sarah. You were there with me that night too. Our girls passed on your messages… I’m grateful.
I sit with you in your lose and your pain.
I appreciate that more than you could know, Amy. Thank you.
WOW!! Emily, I am so sorry for your loss. I am sorry for the pain you have had to endure. But I am so grateful that you are hearing His voice again. I will keep praying!
paige
Thank you, Paige.
Oh, there just aren’t words. I know that light can come from darkness and I know that He is there always, but that doesn’t stop me from reading this with tears in my eyes. Prayers for you and your family….
Tears in mine from gratitude. So many who are lifting us up, thankful for you, Amy.
Oh Emily.
A million things in my heart.
I love you, so thankful.
Love you too, sweet Amber. Thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it.
i’m speechless. my heart aches deeply for you and your husband. you are not alone. you are never alone in your pain.
You are so right, Grace. We have been utterly surrounded. We are grateful.
Emily, this makes me ache for you. Thank you for sharing. Praying..
Thank you, Misty.
Emily,
I just lost my second baby, a little boy, on Friday, October 28. My sister sent me the link to your post, which was certainly no accident. I don’t have many words to say right now, but I will be praying for you as we both walk this road.
Emailing you now, Mallory. My heart is broken for you too.
It is more than food. People pressing in to love in these tangible ways speak of Christ love. I know what you mean about God speaking to ME. Amidst the injustice, his goodness falls so freely. I love you & filled to know you.
Oh Kamille. Can I just say how happy I am that we got to meet this week? It was no accident. I’m grateful to call you friend.
Emily – I don’t know that the “whys” will ever be answered this side of heaven. It is unfair and not ok and I am so sorry. I will continue to pray for you and thank you for sharing your raw soul here with us. I am grateful that there is a body of believers…known IRL or not…that are willing to lift each other up in prayer in times such as these. You continue to be in my heart.
Kristin
Thank you so much Kristin, that you would take the time to encourage me here, well, I don’t take that lightly. Thank you.
My heart hurts for you and your family- I pray that God comforts you in His love.
Thank you so much, Kate.
Emily thank you for sharing your story. I lost my second daughter in 2002. I was 31 weeks pregnant. The next year I delivered twins. My other children know her name and speak of her to others as our missing daughter. God HAS used that horrible time for my good. I never believed it possible. Your story has been good for so many. For me. I pray that God gives you the gift of seeing something good from this. It is hard and horrible. I long for Heaven in a new way.
I can’t imagine being so far along and losing a baby Lisa. 18 weeks was devastating enough. Thank you for sharing here. Your words are a comfort to me.
Oh Emily –
you are beautiful in your faith. this is the hardest of roads for a mom to walk. you do Him proud. so proud.
big hugs
Lisa-Jo
Big hugs right back, Lisa-Jo. Thank you friend.
I love you, Emily….
Oh Ann, love you too.
Whew. Deep Breaths.
I’ve had two miscarriages this year. Neither as far as 18 weeks. Can’t imagine.
God takes our pain and shows us his love in such new and unique ways. I have grown as I have cried, and I have now helped other women as they have cried, and I’m not sure I’d ever say it’s “worth it,” but it’s certainly worth something.
Peace to you as you walk this hard road.
Thank you so much for sharing your heart here Rae. I love this “I’m not sure I’d ever say it’s “worth it,” but it’s certainly worth something.” I would agree.
Oh Em, it’s so difficult to see you walk this road of pain…yet beauty is emerging from the ashes already. And I know that He who began a good work in you will be FAITHFUL.
I love you and I cherish the time we were able to spend together last week…
My dear sister,
While I have never experienced the pain in which you speak, your story moved me to repspond. I am stopping to say a prayer for you, praying for restoration, renewal & a sweet revival in your spirit. God’s arms are wrapped gently around you during this time.
i am undone reading this, emily… hugging your heart close…
I am so sorry for this hearthache and loss you had to endure. I am grateful for the people in your lives who were able to give you love and support. This post leaves tears in my eyes, as well. Thank you for sharing such a heartfelt story and bringing hope to others. I hope that you are deeply being healed, rebuilt, and renewed.
i am so, so sorry.
i miscarried in december– i’ve been through a lot of stuff, but this.
this was more than i thought i could go through.
http://seeminglyrandom.com/?p=1534