**By sharing my experience I am in no way trying to be morbid or make any reader uncomfortable. Somehow, writing about my experience helps me to grieve and to heal. So I’m sharing what happened, as I experienced it. I know that miscarriages are very seldom spoke about and oftentimes women feel ashamed, but it is a real part of life and so we should embrace the life that we had and mourn it properly when it’s gone. Also, for me personally, this is easier than reliving the experience over and over with each person I tell. Please read only if you are comfortable doing so.
I lost my baby on the fourth floor of the Hilton Hotel. The bathroom was pure white so the blood looked like red paint splattered on a blank canvas.
My husband remained at my side, speaking gentle things through his eyes. He didn’t need to say much.
I was not prepared for a miscarriage to hurt so bad. It hadn’t really crossed my mind that at about three months along, miscarrying is like experiencing a short labor. The labor lasted about five hours from start to finish, three of which were excruciating.
I switched between the toilet and the bathtub. Draining the bathtub water every ten minutes or so when it would turn a greenish, brownish, red color.
It felt like a scene from a horror movie; sitting in a bathtub quickly filling of my own blood. Just wanting it all to be over.
Contractions rolled in like waves and I wondered what the people in the next room over were thinking about the woman crying out so late at night.
Eventually I passed the placenta, which I held in my hand for a few moments just because it was hard to let go. I wondered if the baby would still be in tact or if it would have mostly dissolved like the midwife said might happen.
We had been advised to not go to the hospital unless I was bleeding so much that I felt dizzy or my heart was racing. So the whole thing took place in the Hilton bathroom. Just us two. We felt close to each other.
When the contractions had finally subsided, I drained the bath water for a final time, but just sat there. As the intensity of just getting through the pain subsided, the reality started to sink in. The baby was gone. I never got to see it. Just pieces of what looked like could be part of it as they flowed out into the bathwater.
We looked at each other as if to say, “What now?”
We felt strangely comforted even though it seemed like we should both be sobbing. I always imagined a miscarriage being a hysterical event, but really it was strangely peaceful once it was all over. The Lord felt near and we just felt raw. Our hearts were sad, but our confidence about the Lord’s goodness and his goodwill towards our family remained strong, so we just decided to be together in the moment and acknowledge that this was something we wished would have turned out differently.
I took a shower to wash off all the dried blood and Jon poured two glasses of wine. Out of celebration for our child’s life, and out of mourning, we toasted to our child. It felt right to honor the life in that way.
Eventually Jon fell asleep and I found myself still awake, sitting up in bed, eating the complimentary bag of popcorn in our hotel room and watching old episodes of Full House on late night TV. Somehow watching my favorite childhood show made me feel safe. I felt like my eight year old self, remembering feeling similar when my cat had died, even though the comparison seemed ridiculous. As an eight year old, a cat is everything. At twenty-seven, there’s nothing worse than losing a baby, except for losing a child for which you’ve known longer or a spouse – at least that’s what I’d imagine.
Just before the sun came up I decided I could sleep.
When I woke up, I read a verse in Psalm 34:18 which says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted,” and indeed He is.
We are heartbroken that we never got to see our child’s face or hold them in our arms. We don’t understand the ‘why’ behind it all. But we know that whenever it’s time for us to have another baby, we will embrace it and love it with all our hearts. We held our sweet Cameron a bit tighter when we hugged him this morning.
Thank you for all the support and prayers over the past few days. We’ve felt so loved.