The Lingering Pain of a Miscarriage

by Janice

I was due in June. After having my son Jackson in flu season, I was thrilled about my summer baby plans. “And if it is a girl, I can use all Julia’s summer clothes…” I couldn’t wait.

But as excited as I was, Jackson was even more excited. Since he was two years old, he had been begging for a sibling. And while his baby cousin Julia was filling the role of sibling for him, he wanted “his own baby.” I knew telling him before 12 weeks was risky, but I was so ill during those first months that I felt I had to explain to him what was wrong with mommy. His face lit up with the news and we all set out for the long wait…

At ten weeks, I went for an ultrasound to find out my exact due date. Laying on the ultrasound table I happily chatted away with the technician, not suspecting anything to be wrong with my pregnancy. After twenty minutes of her studying the monitor, I asked “So is my baby alive in there – when are you going to show me the heart beat?”

I said it so casually. I was afraid, but somehow sure that everything was, of course, okay.

“I am so sorry…” she began, “But your baby died about two days ago…”

I burst into tears. “What am I going to tell my son?” I cried. Guilt for telling him so soon crashed down on me. As I cried, half naked on the table with that ridiculous internal ultrasound thing still inside me waiting for the radiologist to come in and confirm it all, the terrible reality that I had really lost my baby began to set in. After I finally could dress and regain a bit of dignity, they left me alone to call my husband. Then I sat in that little room and just cried and cried.

One of the worst experiences of my life was explaining to Jackson that we weren’t going to be having a baby in June. He looked at me confused and said, “No Mommy – we are having a baby. I saw him.” After a few more assurances that no, there was no longer a baby growing in my belly, he seemed to accept it. In the weeks to follow, he would sometimes ask me when we were going to have a new baby. I told him I didn’t know and we would go on with our day. I think he thought about it often.

At first, I was in survival mode, focusing on healing and moving forward. I had to wait for two weeks for the baby to miscarry, and then I had to wait through two more months of bleeding before I finally had a D&C in January.

Now six months later, I am just beginning to have a cycle. I had imagined I would be pregnant again by now, busy planning for another baby. But instead June approaches and I am constantly reminded of the baby I will never meet. With spring seems to come the baby season. Everywhere I go I see bundles of new babies and I can’t help to feel an envious stab of pain.

I thought that the grief would ease over time. Instead I think it has grown. At first people would say to me that they were amazed at how well I was dealing with my miscarriage. I answered back confidently that this was part of being a woman and building a family. “So many women have miscarriages – and many never get to have a child of their own. I have my son. I am just grateful for what I have.”

And I am grateful, but as my “due date” approaches I realize that this will be a loss I will always carry with me. It is a different pain then if I had lost a child I had held, hugged and known. But it still is a real and significant loss.

This June will hurt. When I see a brand new baby, I will turn away quickly and try to hide my tears. I won’t be able to forget that June was supposed to be our month.

Perhaps by next June I will have another baby. Maybe that will dull the pain, and yet maybe not. Just as having my sweet son comforts me and I am so grateful for the gift of him, it doesn’t erase the agony of losing that other little member of our family.



Email Author    |    Website About Janice

Janice is co-founder of 5 Minutes For Mom. She's been working online since 2003 and is thankful her days are full of social media, writing and photography. You can see more of her photos at janicecrozephotography.com.

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