I want to preface this post by saying that I know this is a homemaking / creative blog, and that I know you don't come here to read about my personal problems. Still, after some thought, I have felt led to open up a bit, and to talk about this because I think that it is important for SO many reasons. I hope you'll bear with me, but if you don't want to read on, I totally understand that as well, and hope you'll come back for more of "the usual" soon.
I decided to write about this because miscarriage is something that is far more common than many people realize. Those who have never had one (and I am so relieved for those of you who haven't), many don't realize how startling the #'s are. If you have had a miscarriage or a still birth, you have probably met a dozen or more women who have experienced a similar story. Many of you still, who have lost a little one, may be feeling alone, or hushed into silent grief because of our culture's inability to recognize miscarriage as a true loss in so many ways...
According to Fertility Truth, "Miscarriage statistics can be dramatic. Miscarriage reportedly occurs in 20 percent of all pregnancies. However, according to some sources, this may be an inaccurate number. Many women, before realizing a life has begun forming within them, may miscarry without knowing it-assuming their miscarriage is merely a heavier period. Therefore, the miscarriage rate may be closer to 40 or 50 percent. Of the number of women who miscarry, 20 percent will suffer recurring miscarriages."
I am in that 20%. This is my second miscarriage. It does NOT get easier.
Having been through this twice now, I can tell you without doubt that unless they have been through it (and sometimes not even then), people never really know what to say when a person loses a baby in pregnancy.
I went to the store the other day to pick up a pair of sunglasses so that my tear-stained eyes wouldn't shock everyone into a state of pity when I'm walking around in public. The woman behind the counter asked me how I was. How do you respond to that, when your heart feels as though it has been ripped into a thousand pieces and stomped on in an act of pure betrayal and perversion of innocence that occurred within your very own body??
I stammered on my answer, and finally decided that it was time to honor my pain. No, I'm not fine. "I had a miscarriage on Tuesday," I told her. "So I'm not great." She looked at me like I had just hit her with a stun gun. I imagine hearing something like that after asking a hundred people before me the canned "how are you?" would indeed be shocking. But I have no social filter right now. I don't think I have ever been quite so transparent. She composed herself and smiled and said, "Aww, I don't know what to say." I just told her that there is nothing she needs to say, thanked her, and left.
I have gotten all types of responses. I have gotten everything from "Its God's will" to "you can always have another," to "the baby would have probably been disabled." I have even been told that I shouldn't even be sad because at least I have two children. I won't even get into my feelings on those (and other) responses, other than that they hurt to the core. If you want to know why, I will elaborate later. For now, I will just confirm for any out there reading that they hurt. Bad.
Many people (women especially) are "fixers" and want to say something to help the grieving woman smile, or to feel some sense of justice and make sense of things. I do understand that, and I appreciate the hope and desire to help in some way when they say those things, even if the words themselves cut deep.
The truth is that there is nothing that can be said that makes it okay.
If you don't know what to say, sometimes its better to just tell the person that you know they're hurting, and that you're there for them. At least that has been my experience. That is what I would suggest to anyone out there who ever finds themselves on the consoling end of a miscarriage.
I mention this only because having experienced this twice now, I can't explain the pain that comes from trying to shake off comments that sting so much. I don't think that these people mean to hurt, and I do think they mean to offer healing words and thoughts to help. I mention this only because I think its important to know that the emotions of a woman who lost her child are erratic and excruciating at best... and most women have a difficult time making sense of things at the time, if ever. The best thing to do (in my opinion) is to just let them grieve and be there for them.
I will say that as painful as it can be, it can also be healing to share your story if you have one. It goes without saying that every experience is different, and even with MC-sisters to share your grief with, its important to note that everyone handles things differently. That is OKAY. It is good to know that you're not alone.... that *i'm* not alone. As much as it pains me to think of others experiencing this, I feel much less secluded, and more free to grieve in a real way, knowing how others have felt and dealt with their pain.
Sharing our stories also helps to spread awareness about miscarriage among both those who have and have not experienced it. Its time that we stop looking at miscarriage as the unspeakable grief in our culture. It is very real, and incredibly painful, and should be given the same understanding, patience, and honor in our society as all other types of grief (not that they are all cookie-cutter the same.... just that MC's deserve the right to be grieved in earnest, as is socially acceptable for other types of losses).
In an effort to do my part to de-mystify and humanize the process of going through this, I'm going to tell my story. I will be honest. It isn't easy to write, and it probably won't be easy to read, but if you stick with me, hopefully we can work through some things, and maybe even help someone out there who has gone through this also, to feel less alone, to feel understood, to feel justified in her grieving and pain.
My first miscarriage was at the end of 2004. We had just started trying to conceive our second child. We were elated. I felt like I bonded with the baby immediately. We had names picked out. We had told our family and friends (which, by the way, I still don't regret, even after all this). We had told Abbi she was going to have a baby brother or sister. We were planning, praying, dreaming...
On Dec. 24th I started bleeding. On Dec. 30th the miscarriage was confirmed by blood test. I was 7 weeks along. For months and months I grieved. It was so painful that I couldn't speak about it out loud without falling into heaps of sobs, so I just didn't. I fell into a deep depression and wound up having to go on anti-depressants to make it through.
We named the baby Hope. Kevin bought me a mother's ring with Hope's name, the date of her miscarriage, and her "birthstone" (dec) on it. I wore it every day for years. I still do, when I am particularly missing her, thinking about what color her hair would have been or how Anna would have loved playing with her four year old sister today at the park. That part of the grief never leaves me. It just sits quietly in the rafters of my mind until it hits me hard that someone is missing from this family of ours.
17 months after that miscarriage we had continued to try, and try, and try to get pregnant successfully. Finally, Anna appeared as a little double line on an EPT.
Then, in April we found out that we were expecting again. We were shocked, and excited and nervous all in one. I got sick... really really sick. Sicker than I have ever been in my life. I counted the days until I could get up out of bed without falling over, or be able to eat a meal without feeling like I had food poisoning.
Eventually the nausea passed, and I felt good. I felt happy again, energetic, and started to really feel excited about the pregnancy, and began to bond with the baby more. We were talking about names... we'd told our family and friends. We'd gotten out the baby stuff from when we had Anna, watched our favorite pregnancy movies, and ooh'd and ahh'd over photographs of babies in the womb at 8, 9, 10, 11 weeks... We read about fetal development at every stage, how the heart was beating, the baby was sucking her thumb, how she could feel pain at this stage...
Kev left for his TDY out of state... I went to go visit mom with the kids... all seemed right with the world.
But somewhere, somehow, something went wrong. I started bleeding. I rushed to the hospital and got blood tests, urine tests, and a physical examination. We listened for a heartbeat that wouldn't echo through the empty sounds coming from the doppler the nurse pushed around on my newly distending belly.
I was told things like "sometimes this just happens," and "let nature take its course." But every cell in my body ached to hold on to the little life inside me. It didn't feel like nature taking its course. It felt completely unnatural. Sick. Wrong.
I went back to mom's house praying that this wasn't the end... maybe it was just random spotting, and everything would be fine. I slept fitfully, and dreamed of fear, and being pregnant, and woke up to a stomach ache, as I cradled my youngest sleeping peacefully in my arms.
I would have been 12 weeks exactly that day. "The safety zone."
Over the next 20 minutes I started bleeding heavily, and having contractions that felt like nothing less than second stage labor. My water broke. I started sobbing, and soon after, the baby came.
I know how difficult it is to read that part of the story. I'm shaking as I type it, trying to hold in the sobs so that I dont wake my sleeping family. I am writing it only because I had no idea what a late first trimester miscarriage was like, and I think that as horrifying as it is, it is important for people to understand the TRAUMA that a woman has to deal with as a part of her grief as well. It isn't only the sadness over the loss that she has to stomach day in and day out. There is much, much more to it.
As a result of this, we have also decided that we won't be having any more children. This was our last shot. I can't risk even fearing this again, much less ever experiencing it. Kevin agrees wholeheartedly.
I know that I can't, but if i could, I would just get a hysterectomy.... i hate my uterus right now. I know that sounds weird, being that its an inanimate *organ* - but its how i feel. I feel like my own body betrayed me, and worse, it betrayed my child... a child that was completely vulnerable and weak, that depended solely on me for protection, and that could feel pain. I think that as irrational as this feeling is, its part of that wanting to scream to the world that this is just sick and wrong and shouldn't have happened. I'm angry and heartbroken and want it to stop.
I am trying so hard to handle the grief of it as best as I can, but I am also really struggling with the images and physical feelings I experienced and can't seem to shake them off of me no matter how hard I try.
I "want" to be back to normal.... I dont want to feel this deep all-encompassing grief life this. Part of me wants to forget all about it and pretend nothing happened so I won't hurt anymore... and part of me wants to own every single piece of the pain and scream my grief from the rooftops. I suppose this is that part of me right now.
I think in a lot of ways its better to verbalize it... to give these feelings a sense of solidity and value... It is "getting it out" in a way so that hopefully it doesn't just circle around and around your mind on a constant basis, leaving you feeling trapped in a world where you want to, and you don't want to, forget. In the end you NEVER forget... but talking about the experience is almost a release in that for a moment you can stop feeling like you have to remember every bit of it all the time, because you can trust that someone else knows, and has heard, and the life you knew and loved won't be forgotten.
I have done my best to tell my story, but in the end there are no words to describe the anguish, confusion, and utter sadness that storms in my heart right now. I pray for those of you who have never experienced it to never know this pain. For those of you who have, we share a piece of our hearts with one another - missing pieces that can never be replaced, but that will never, ever, be forgotten.
If you made it this far, I thank you. This is a story that needed to be told. While we will be grieving and trying to heal this broken family here behind the scenes, I promise that I will try to get this blog back on track to its primary purpose soon...
With all sincerity,
~Kristin
I am wrapping my arms around you in the biggest of hugs and sobbing for you and your loss. My heart is heavy for you.
I love you and I am here. Always.
Posted by: rachel hall | June 08, 2008 at 02:21 AM
I'm a new reader to your blog and just wanted to say I'm so very sorry your having to go through this again. Thank you so much for sharing your experience. Your so right in that the sharing helps so much, for both the sharer and listener/reader. I felt like I was going a little(or a lot) crazy going through my miscarriages and found that reading other womens candid experiences helped me so much. I learnt that I wasn't alone, and wasn't crazy. The emotions and feelings are so big and so real and so so justified.
Thanks again.
Posted by: Michelle | June 08, 2008 at 03:46 AM
This must have been so hard to write. It was hard reading (my box of tissues is much lighter now...!) I'm so sorry that you've had to go through this pain, and twice, at that. My heart goes out to you and your family. Still, thank you for sharing this story. I took away a new insight into how to approach other women who have experienced miscarriages. *hugs*
Posted by: MotherMe | June 08, 2008 at 07:16 AM
Thank you for sharing your story. I've had 7 (that we can confirm) miscarriages over 11 years and none were easy or pretty. Even with 5 children (none of which are birth children...all adopted) the pain never completely goes away. You can learn to use it to help others grieve, you can hold it in, you can show it, you can put it aside for awhile, but it always comes back at some point. The more you grieve now, the more you share your story, the more you celebrate (as hard as that word sounds) the life you had by honoring it and remembering it (as you did with Hope) it helps make things more real and more able to cope. If you need anything, a shoulder, an ear, whatever, just know I am not that far away ok :)
Posted by: Kimberly | June 08, 2008 at 07:30 AM
I do think that sharing your story is a very important step on the road to recovery.
I have had more than one session with friends when we all shared our histories and it seemed to me like this is how it must feel after a war when everyone shares their War Stories.
I feel like giving voice to the pain makes it a little more real and when something is real and we can look at it in the light of day, we can work through it, though I still think about our miscarraige every day and it has been 5 and a half years.
I also think it is valuable to other women to share your story.
I have a friend who is in her early 40s who had a miscarraige a couple of months ago and had never had a friend go through it.
She was surprised that they were so common, in fact, of the four women who were talking that day we had each had at least one.
It helps to know that you're not alone in a time like that.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Posted by: Jess | June 08, 2008 at 08:35 AM
I feel as if words can't possibly be enough right now, so I will simply say thank you for sharing your story, and my thoughts are with you and yours.
Posted by: Georgiana | June 08, 2008 at 08:39 AM
Hugs
Posted by: Tammy | June 08, 2008 at 09:27 AM
Thank you for having the strength to share something so personal. My love for you, sister-mama-friend, is strong and my prayers go to help hold you up. (I am crying with you as I type!) I think of you often and pray when I do. There is no "back to normal," so my prayer is that you will be able to assimilate, as you did with Hope, and move forward with this new part of you in your heart.
=huge hugs=
Posted by: Mandaleigh | June 08, 2008 at 09:58 AM
Kristin, I applaud your honesty, your candor and your courage. Courage because you're right - miscarriage is an unspeakable grief that tends to be shrouded in guilt, and misunderstandings.
As I told you earlier in the week, there are no words. I can simply be here, willing to listen, to talk, to care. And I am never more than an email away.
Continuing to send you loving soothing healing comforting thoughts, and of course, hugs!
Posted by: Dani | June 08, 2008 at 11:44 AM
There is nothing I can say except that I am so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. My family (including my husband, my mother, my neighbor) all send our love and prayers to you and your family.
Posted by: Caitlin | June 08, 2008 at 11:59 AM
I think what you have just done is amazing. I know the tendency is to just withdraw and and keep to yourself. It takes a lot of strength to be so candid about you experiences. Again i am so sorry for you loss and i am sending you big hugs!!
Posted by: Myriam | June 08, 2008 at 01:56 PM
My sister's first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. Even after 40+ years and three now grown-up children, she can't talk about that first baby without tears. It does get easier with time, but you never "get over" the loss of a child.
Posted by: Kathi D | June 08, 2008 at 02:36 PM
I've also had 2 miscarriages before I had Andy, and there are people in my own family who don't know about the second one because of the callous comments they made after the first (I'm looking at you, Nana!). Even after going through it myself twice, I still don't know what to say to others. I usually (like now) wind up sharing my own story and hoping the "you are not alone" (ugh, that awful Michael Jackson song just popped into my head) factor is enough to comfort them even a little. The other thing is, I didn't grieve the same way I've seen others do. I was upset, sure, but I took a really matter-of-fact attitude toward my own losses (and they were losses, even at 6 & 8 weeks), so sometimes I feel like I'm not qualified or "authentic" enough to counsel other women through their grief. Sometimes I feel as though, because I don't cry over my own losses, that I did it wrong, somehow. I read about women like you, who are just shaken to their very core, and I think "did I cry enough? Was I sad enough? I'm not sad like she is, I don't remember what their due dates would have been, even! What's wrong with me?" But it's not about me or how I grieve, it's about wrapping our sisters up in love and letting their tears wet our shoulders, even if distance keeps us from doing that in person.
Posted by: jen | June 08, 2008 at 04:07 PM
Hugs
Posted by: Iryl | June 08, 2008 at 04:24 PM
First, I want to say that I am incredibly moved by each of your comments, ladies, and there are no words to thank you enough.
Secondly, I wanted to reply to Jen. There is no wrong way to go through this. Your body and your emotions handle things the best way that it knows how. You love your lost little ones, and your process of going through this is unique to you.
You said you wondered if you cried enough, or if you were sad enough.... sometimes I feel like the one who is odd in my grieving. Many of the women I know were able to move on and handle their losses with grace and strength. I feel betrayed, bitter, broken...
I don't know that there are any differences that make it so. I doubt it. I think its just different views and processes in facing the same struggles and heartbreaks. However you grieve is not only valid but precious - hold on to your history and your process - its yours, and no one can contest that or take it from you.
I'm sending you big big hugs...
Posted by: kristin | June 08, 2008 at 04:24 PM
I am so sorry for your loss.
The night before I read Rachel's post with your update, I had a dream that I miscarried our baby. I am 10 weeks. It was so real, and so agonizing. I woke up with a broken heart. Then I read Rachel's post and my heart broke even more knowing that that is what you were dealing with. Is there a grief counselor or someone that you can talk to on base (I don't even know if you are near a base or not)? I am sending you big hugs.
Posted by: Missy | June 08, 2008 at 07:05 PM
*HUGS* missy - Thank you so much.... we live near Ft. Sill and will be meeting with a chaplain this week....
Posted by: kristin | June 08, 2008 at 08:06 PM
Kristin, I will continue to keep you in my thoughts and prayers. I am so sorry, thank you for sharing your story.
Posted by: Amanda | June 08, 2008 at 09:16 PM
Thank you for sharing your story. It's strong women like you who help to open the channels of communication about something that can be so isolating. It doesn't have to be that way.
I agree with Missy - go talk to someone. Please don't take this as me second-guessing your decision, but, really, now is not the time to decide whether or not to continue on this journey. You need to stop, stand still, and let it all wash over you. The good along with the very, very painful.
My first hubby and I had several miscarriages before we got preggers with Monkey. Each one was devastating, and none got any easier. I was so surprised by how many women around me told me their stories, how many had gone through the same thing, and it made me so angry. Angry at the world, angry at my body, angry with whatever Power it is that decides these things.
But, yes, meet with the chaplain. Talk things out. If that doesn't help, go to mental health and talk with a grief counselor, too. The military is great for these kinds of resources. I know. Talk, and let it spill out of you. Then, when you feel like some of this burden has eased up a bit, when the trauma and the wounds stop feeling so very incredibly raw (and it will...but I know you know that), that's when you can seriously sit down and decide if this is the road for you and your hubby.
All my best to you, Kirstin. Again, I'm so sorry you're going through this. It sucks, and there's no easy way to find your way out of this forest. You're doing the right thing, though. By voicing your feelings and putting it out there. We're all here, listening and nodding our heads and sending you hugs and healing vibes. We're here to take care of each other, Momma.
Posted by: Sharon | June 08, 2008 at 09:41 PM
Hi Kristin,
As a sister in grief, I have such a soft spot for your broken heart. I know so much the pain that comes with the well-intended equivocations and pat-answers. I've often wondered at the phenomenon to have to "say" something in the way of an answer, when what scripture challenges us to do is "Weep with those who weep." So I weep with you, dear sister.
You'll never stop missing your little ones, but I pray that you will eventually come to a place where the hurt doesn't ache quite so badly.
Grief is a cycle. And it has many faces. Steel your heart dear one, and surround yourself with friends to love you.
I would encourage you to refrain from making any decisions right now. Grief can be an abusive master--tempting us to thoughts and actions that we wouldn't even consider under other circumstances. Right now, just concentrate on mourning and healing. The time for decisions and moving on will come. But today, just let the God of comfort minister to your spirit, and let your friends lift you up.
Posted by: Jen | June 09, 2008 at 12:07 AM
Hey woman!
Just wanted to let you know that I have been thinking about you still!
We prayed for you at church this past week also!
Just remember that if you need anything, you know where I am!
Posted by: Christina | June 09, 2008 at 01:07 AM
I just stumbled upon your blog. Thank you for opening your heart and sharing. I've been there too. Nobody who hasn't been through it seems to understand that it is a REAL loss. A loss I still grieve four children later. I have prayed for you and your family. I hope you are able to find the healing you need.
Posted by: Lindsay Lee | June 09, 2008 at 08:35 AM
Thank you for this post Kristin. Thank you for being brave enough to speak out. Now I know I'm truly not alone in some of the things I feel. (and the anger over what some people say or do) I don't think the pain ever goes away but it becomes a part of you, your life, and your appreciation for the simple joys in life.
Posted by: pam | June 09, 2008 at 12:38 PM
Kristin,
I have been thinking about your post a lot today. Thank you for bringing this out of the shadows. It's a difficult topic, because so many of us have experienced it in some form within our families-- whether a sister, mother, daughter. And yet, even with ones so close, we are so often reluctant to talk about it. Sometimes it even becomes a taboo topic within a family. So thank you again, for reminding us of the importance of openness and empathy. Sending warmest thoughts to you and your family.
Posted by: elsa | June 09, 2008 at 08:11 PM
Thank you for 'keeping it real' - I am so sorry for your loss. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.
Posted by: Shannon O. | June 09, 2008 at 10:02 PM
Thank you for being so brave and sharing your stories with us. I wish you and your family much love as you heal together.
Posted by: Natalie | June 10, 2008 at 02:18 PM
I am so sorry for your loss. Take time to grieve for yourself and your family.
I am suffering from infertility, so I haven't even had a chance to GET pregnant yet. I am amazed, angry and downright pissed off at the things people say to me and others about such a personal matter. I think every school in the world should have classes in tact.
Sending you hugs and healing thoughts.
Posted by: Henna | June 11, 2008 at 10:46 AM
Kristin~ Sending you lots of hugs and prayers. I'm so sorry for your loss, thanks for sharing your grief, your anger, your tears...
My prayer to you...
Dear God, Surround Kristin, Kevin, Abbi & Anna with your love as they grieve the loss of their precious child, place people around them to help them through this most difficult time. Love them, heal them, be with them. In Jesus Name, Amen.
Posted by: Danielle | June 11, 2008 at 11:05 AM
Kristin, I am so sorry that you and your family went through this, I have you in my prayers. You have opened up a whole new forum for others who have gone through this, what a kind and brave topic to introduce on your blog and let everyone participate in. Your way with words is so to the point and meaningful, such a gift. Kind Regards, Renell
Posted by: Renell | June 11, 2008 at 02:41 PM
My children would have been 6 1/2 and almost 5. I think about what I would say to them if I ever had the chance to hold them. I never had the courage to grieve like you, I was ashamed of myself. I thought that if I did show any real emotion that I would be selfish. I still to this day can't figure out how to describe the emotions of such a loss. Thank you for being so open about it.
Posted by: Juli | June 11, 2008 at 04:10 PM
Kristin, I am so so sorry :*(
Your right, there are no words to make it better, I know exactly what you are going through, I have lost 3 babies. I was 14 weeks when I had my first m/c and had a very similar experience as you, it was horribly heartbreaking and scary. My 2nd and 3rd m/c were after I already had 5 children, and the comments I got from people were horrible. It was like they thought it was barely a blip in my life since I already had *so many* children. Like the more you have, the less value they possess. I desperately wanted these babies and it hurt so badly to know that no one seemed to value them at all.
What you are doing is so healthy, verbalizing your feelings is good, feeling is good, it is the only way to heal. I tried to keep things in, and I ended up finally exploding. You will be in my thoughts and prayers{{{big hugs}}}}
Posted by: Tonya Richard | June 11, 2008 at 10:07 PM
I am sorry that you have had to go through such a painful event in your life once again. From what you've said about your husband and the mother's ring he bought in memory of Hope, he must be a caring man. I hope he has been able to offer some comfort to you during this terrible time. And, you obviously have a caring blog community, many of whom seem to have shared a similar type of pain. I hope in time your pain and sadness will lessen. Your story was so sad. I hope sharing it has brought you some peace.
Posted by: Rosanne - Firefly Nights | June 12, 2008 at 08:50 PM
Kristin and Kevin and girls,
I am so sorry for your loss, I don't have anythig I can say. I just want you to know that Karl, Patrick, Mackenzie and I are praying for you and thinking of you. I hope that you are doing ok and if you need anything that I can help you with, please let me know. Thinking of you and prayin for you all.
Love,
Shannon
Posted by: Shannon | June 13, 2008 at 10:37 AM
Oh, sweetie, I am so sorry. Hugs and prayers for you. Take care of yourself.
Posted by: Laurie | June 13, 2008 at 01:36 PM
Kristin,
I just stumbled upon your blog and read your post. I am so sorry. I can close my eyes and be right back in the doctor's office of Sept '04 during a routine checkup, getting an ultrasound at 11 weeks and the tech who brusquely told me, 'there's no heartbeat, you are going to miscarry' and remember the shock and pain. I am praying for you.
Posted by: Suzanne | June 13, 2008 at 01:51 PM
I am so sorry. Sorry for what happened, and sorry to discover this post so belatedly. But I thank you for laying your soul on the table--it helps you heal, and it helps others too.
Posted by: Barb | June 13, 2008 at 10:09 PM
I have no words of wisdom for you but i am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your pain, my thoughts and prayers are with you. I actually read this the other day and had no idea what to say but have thought of you often and just wanted to let you know. (HUGS)
Posted by: Stacy | June 14, 2008 at 05:32 AM
I am so sorry for your loss, Kristin. My heart goes out to you right now.
Posted by: Linda | June 16, 2008 at 07:31 AM
Kristin-
I'm so sorry to hear about your losses! I have had 3 miscarriages myself...2 between Allison and Ethan, and one between Ethan and Claire. I could tell stories but I don't want to take away from your's here. Just know that I'm thinking of you all and wishing you the best. It's normal to be sad, angry, depressed, blaming, etc...so let those feelings work through you however they need to.
I've also had all the comments you've had and I know even one more especially...after having Allison and Ethan, we supposedly, at least according to society, had the 'perfect' family: mom, dad, girl and boy. People would ask why I would even want to get pregnant again after having a girl AND a boy! When I was pregnant with Claire, people would actually seem to be angry that I would have another after already having one of each! I just could not believe the nerve of some people, many of whom don't even really know me, how my family should be and who it should or should not consist of!! I would just tell them I'm in it for the child, not the boy or the girl.
Anyway, again, wishing you all the best!
Lauri
Posted by: Lauri | June 17, 2008 at 01:06 PM
I'm so, so sorry.
I miscarried my very first pregnancy, in 2001. I was 10 weeks. My daughter's name is Hope, too.
I hope, in some small way, we were helpful at HER. Please remember you are always welcome there -- once an HGer, always an HGer. The experience never truly leaves you. But if you find it too painful to visit us, we understand that too.
((((((((((Kristin)))))))
Posted by: Cin (from HER) | June 17, 2008 at 11:57 PM
Big, big, big hugs.
Posted by: Dove | June 18, 2008 at 11:16 AM