A Quick Note

I have a big chemistry test tonight, so naturally I'm piddle farting on facebook and catching up on some blogs.

I wrote about my Gus' third birthday last Friday. Later that afternoon we got three balloons and sent them to heaven.

Waving to Gus in heaven

I suppose I should get back to studying. I'm hoping to finish a couple of posts that I've been working on for awhile. One of them will be in a series hosted by Sarah at Fumbling Toward Grace called No More Mommy Wars.

Back to studying equilibrium equations!

My Little Saint's Birthday

In July of 2009 I got a positive pregnancy test. We weren't avoiding or trying to achieve a pregnancy, so it was a pleasant surprise. Well, more than a pleasant surprise... I was over the moon ecstatic!

My world was forever changed when we found out the following month that I had miscarried.

My due date had been set for March 15th. If my pregnancy would have progressed we would be celebrating our little Gus' 3rd birthday this year.

There has always been something going on each year that has numbed the sadness. I was around 13 weeks pregnant with Joe when Gus' first due date anniversary came around. It was strange to mourn a lost pregnancy when I was pregnant again.

The next year I was busy with a 6 month old and packing up to move.

Last year when his due date came around I was again packing up to move to where we live now.

This year... we're packing up to move again and I have two children, I'm going to school and I'm under a lot of stress with numerous things.

You'd think that this being the "third year" and being so busy that I wouldn't be so upset.

But my heart breaks today. More than it has in a very long time.

My Gus has been on my mind heavily these past few weeks. I had a dear friend call me shortly after she went to her 20 week ultrasound to tell me her baby had passed away. I think her level of pain is much different than mine, since I lost my baby at only 6 weeks, but when I heard her sobs... it brought me back to the day of my own ultrasound where I was hoping to see an 8 week old little baby jelly bean with a fluttering heartbeat... and there wasn't.

My heart is breaking for my friend and her family, but to my shock I started mourning my own miscarriage. I know the pain never really goes away, but I was doing so good for so long. Why now am I getting so upset?

It's because I feel a lot of guilt. I feel so guilty because there are weeks, months maybe that I don't think about my child in heaven. What kind of mother is like that?

I feel guilty that I didn't do something to honor Gus. I could have had a Mass said. I could have done something- anything. I am thankful that someone pointed me to The Shrine of the Holy Innocents in New York, where they have a Book of Life to put the names of babies who have died before birth and that have no grave. I take comfort knowing that in those moments where I slack thinking about Gus, there is someone always praying for him, thousands of miles away. His name is memorialized. I guess that's something.

I know this is nothing I can help, but I hate it that there's no real resting place for Gus. My miscarriage was simply a very heavy period. Somewhere in all that was my child... I do remember seeing a very large, I guess you could say clot, but it looked different. It was grayish and when I saw it, maybe in my grief, my naivety, I thought maybe somewhere in that mass was the little beginnings of my child. I grabbed it out of the toilet and wrapped it up and sobbed, sobbed, sobbed. Later, when my husband came home we buried him next to a bunch of yellow flowers. We marked it with a rock. I went to visit it quite often, but mysteriously, when we moved, we couldn't find the rock. My husband comforted me by saying that Gus isn't in the ground in Waverly, MO by the Bartlett Grain elevators... he is always with us. But now, I so desperately want to visit him. I cannot imagine the devastation to plan a funeral and make burial plans for a small, precious baby, but I wish I had some of that closure... and a place to honor my baby. Who knows if that mass of tissue contained Gus. And now I have this gut wrenching feeling that he was just flushed away. I know there was no possible way I could have kept any remains of a miscarriage that early, but it still makes me feel helpless.

The weird thing to think about is if Gus were born, there would be no Joe. I got pregnant with him just two months after my miscarriage. He wasn't a consolation prize for having a miscarriage. That's just how things happened. Sam probably wouldn't be here either.

I cannot imagine my life without my sons. But I still mourn the loss of what could have been with Gus. God's plan in mysterious and always good. It doesn't always make sense, but someday it will. I find hope in that. Despite my first loss I have two living, breathing, drive-me-crazy blessings right in front of me.

I'm trying very hard to stop the guilty feelings today. I know those feelings aren't from God. Today I want to focus on how lucky we are to have our own saint in heaven praying for our family. I want to focus on being a better Christian so I can get to heaven to see him (or her...) Today I am going to teach my boys that they have an older sibling watching over them. When Ryan gets home we are going to go get three balloons to send up to heaven. I know some people were upset when I announced to the world that we had a miscarriage, and some people may be upset that I'm still talking about it and plan on talking about it to my kids. But I want to honor my first child. Because Lord knows I haven't been doing it lately.

Happy birthday, little one. 

Pray for us dear Gus.

Dear Gus

Dear Gus,

I have to make this quick. Your little brother is sleeping and we know that considering how the last few days/nights have gone, this is a miracle. The little girl I babysit is also napping. Again, two kiddos napping at the same time- miracle.

Two years ago was your due date. Two years. You would be TWO today! I can't believe that. Unfortunately for us, we found out the August before your due date that you had gone to heaven. It's a pain for us that has never gone away. Instead of the sharp, stabbing, unbearable pain we feel a dull ache. We ache for you, our little Gus.

Looking at Joe we have an idea of what kind of person you'd be. We never knew if you were a girl or boy, but we are pretty sure you'd be a very high-spirited toddler. We are pretty sure you'd be a very outgoing girl or boy. We know for certain that you would be so very loved. You are still loved.

I can't put a face to you. I only think of the yellow flowers that shaded the place where we buried you. But someday I will see your face in heaven. You need to pray for me, Little Gus, because I want to get to the glory of heaven, and need all the help I can get. I will get to embrace you someday. I will get to hold your hand in my own. I will get to kiss your cheeks. Even though you didn't look like a "baby" at 5 weeks gestation, you are still a person. You weren't a blob of cells. You have a soul. You have a dignity. You are our son or daughter.

I'm not sure what your birthday party theme would be. I don't know what your cake would look like. But I do know you would be showered with love by your friends and family. I know you would smile and laugh, and so would we.

Joe is too young to know he has an older sibling. I talked about you today with him and he ran off to climb on the toy box. Next year I think we will release a balloon in the sky with a birthday card for you. I will make sure Joe and his siblings know they have an older brother in heaven looking out for them. I will not let you become a distant, fuzzy, sad memory. You are worth celebrating.

It's kind of hard saying, "I have one child and another on the way." I don't mention my miscarriage often to people I don't know well because I don't want to make them uncomfortable. I have three children. One in heaven. One getting ready to wake and and scream any second and another tucked safely in my womb. God has blessed us. Oh my, how He has blessed us.

So happy birthday, my dear angel. Thank you for bringing us happiness and life lessons that have made us stronger and more faithful. Thank you for showing us how precious and fragile life really is.

We love you so much.

Until we meet again.

Love,
Mommy, Daddy, Joe and Baby Garfunkel

Thinking

There is something that I thought I was finally ready to write about, but I can’t bring myself to write about it just yet. I’ve been wanting to write a 3-part post reflecting on some things about pregnancy/child birth/becoming a mother that I never really got the chance to write about soon after Joe was born. All that was on my mind back then was nursing, my blood pressure and wondering if I’d ever get a full-night’s sleep again. I wanted to write about how difficult it was dealing with excessive swelling and pre-eclampsia. I wanted to write about how I am still “mourning the loss” of not giving birth naturally. I wanted to write about how scary it was/is becoming a new mother.

I feel it has taken me these past 6 months since Joe came into this world to be able to take a step back and find the right words for these posts. I was getting ready to write this past weekend when I realized that this coming week we would have celebrated Gus’ first birthday, if I had not miscarried him (or her.) Complaining about how I didn’t get MY way in my pregnancy and childbirth just doesn’t seem appropriate. I remember when we had our miscarriage scare with Joe. I begged God that I would do anything, let anything happen to me if this baby came out healthy. I know God doesn’t bargain. I did get a wonderfully healthy baby. But I’m just so selfish and self-centered sometimes that I choose to focus on how I didn’t get the dream birth I wanted and dreamed of.

Miscarriage and infertility has been heavy on my heart this month. Reflecting on Gus and what could have been and receiving my Family Foundations magazine in the mail that features infertility has really got me thinking. Some women would gladly welcome a c-section if it meant holding their own baby in her arms and here I am beepin’ and moanin’. My gosh, I lost a baby and I’m still complaining about the way I delivered my very special blessing. My pride is thinking I’m a fertile Myrtle and I just “know” I’m going to get pregnant again really soon. Who am I to assume that if we don’t follow the rules “just once” or if we’re ready to try to conceive I’ll get pregnant right away? I keep thinking that secondary infertility won’t happen to me or I won’t miscarry again. Fertility is such a gift and I keep assuming God will just shower me with these gifts. Not good, Maggie, not good.

Anyways, this post is already dragging and disjointed so I apologize. I just had to get my feelings out on the screen. I’m still debating on whether or not to do this 3 part post. Perhaps it will have to wait a little bit longer.

NFP and Trust

First of all, I want to thank all of you who left a kind and encouraging comment or email or text for me regarding my last post. You have no idea how much your prayers have helped. And God did answer our prayers- yesterday we looked at our bank account and there was an extra $200 there from a very generous family member. She didn't even know of our current financial situation, but she is a very holy woman, so I'm sure God gave her a heads up.

I've been having a hard time trusting God lately. This whole recent situation has caused me to look at the cross and close my eyes and make that leap of faith that all will be well. I've been needing some help in that trust area. And what do you know- this week is NFP Awareness Week and this year's theme is Trust: God Has a Plan For Your Marriage.

I was all for NFP when I first read about it long before I even met my husband. It's healthier both spiritually and physically, cheaper and the way God designed our bodies. Thankfully my husband was on board with using NFP before we were engaged.

When I actually got the at home study kit for NFP I was scared. I had irregular cycles. Could I actually learn all this stuff? Could I explain it to my husband? (This is why I recommend going to a class.) But we put our trust in God that with his guidance, we could figure all this stuff out.

The literature I had read had stated over and over that it didn't matter if you had irregular cycles; NFP could still work for me. And it did work. In fact the more I learned about my body and my cycle, the more regular I became, give or take a few days. After my miscarriage and a consultation with some NFP instructors I learned my basal body temperatures were abnormally low and that taking prenatals and flax seed oil would bring my temperature up and possibly be helpful in carrying a baby to full-term. And that worked too!

I discovered a few weeks before my wedding that I was going to be fertile on my wedding night. That wasn't going to stop us. We trusted that if God wanted to bless us with a child that night then we would be OK with that. He knows what we can handle. Well as it turns out, we did not conceive a child that night, nor on our honeymoon where I was super duper fertile.

I started getting a little worried that I wasn't conceiving right away. Since we were open to life and making love on my fertile days, shouldn't we be making babies easily? This showed us that we aren't in control of everything in our lives, including when to have children- that awesome power belongs to God.

In July of last year we finally did get pregnant, but sadly lost our precious baby a few weeks later. Before this event we were always "not trying to get pregnant, but not NOT trying either." After the miscarriage I was scared to death of getting pregnant. We abstained during my fertile times and we had never done that before. But oh my goodness.. just laying there in my husband's arms as he rubbed my back as I drifted off to sleep was almost better than having sex. (I said almost!)

After a month or so after I got my cycle back after the miscarriage I felt that pull to maybe think about being open to another life. But this time our trust was tested. What if we had to go through the pain of a miscarriage again? What if my fertility was negatively affected after the miscarriage that conceiving would be very difficult? We had discussed waiting until we were financially stable, but knew we'd probably never have kids if we went that route. It was scarier this time to be open to life.

But God wouldn't give us anything we couldn't handle. That pull to be open to life became stronger and stronger, and to our surprise and joy we conceived the baby I am now carrying during the second cycle after my miscarriage.

NFP has opened the door to allow me to be more trusting in God not only with planning our family, but with God planning my whole life. If I can make that huge step in trusting him to be a part of our marriage that involves the magnificent power and responsibility of creating human life then I should be able to do that in all areas of my life. I have to trust that God's time is the perfect time- not ours. God's plan is the perfect plan- not ours. I need to focus on one day at a time and see the blessings right in front of me instead of the blessings I hope God gives to me in the future.

NFP has been a huge blessing for my marriage, my health, and my own self-worth. But it has also been a pivotal tool in building a better relationship with God. And that is what I need right now. That is what I need at all times.

Happy Birthday to Our Angel Baby Gus

Warning: This post is kind of sad and depressing. That's how I'm feeling today, folks.



Today was supposed to be a very exciting day. Today was the due date for our precious baby Gus.

Today I was supposed to be waiting anxiously for my water to break (if it hadn't already) and to feel the nervousness of "How much does childbirth really hurt?" My hospital bag would have been all packed with my favorite pillow, probably sitting right next to the front door so we wouldn't forget it during a rush of activity. The excitement of finally meeting the little one who had been growing inside me for nine months would have been overwhelming!

I would have probably have "nested" to the extreme. I would have made sure our home was perfectly waiting for us to return as a family of three. My Type A personality would have come out full force. I would have produced organizational lists, checked and re-checked that everything was in place and possibly have created a phone tree for the family. I would have washed all the baby clothes, folded them neatly and put them away. I would have made absolutely sure the car seat was safe and secure in the vehicle.

While I sit here writing this, I rub my thirteen week preggo belly. I sit here in wonder and amazement at the miracle of life growing inside me and thank God for this blessing. I am over the moon happy that we are blessed with another child. I think, why should I be sad today when I am pregnant again? I shouldn't be so self-centered. There are women out there who can't get pregnant. But in the back of my mind I still wonder what it would be like to be rubbing a 9 month, ready-to-pop-any-day-now belly... to feel the baby's kicks and jabs into my ribs and belly. I should be reading up on what to expect during labor and delivery instead of what to expect during my second trimester (which I will be entering into this week!)

I know this all may sound sentimental, sappy, and depressing. This is how I am feeling today. I still am sad that we lost our first child. We didn't get pregnant to "replace" baby Gus. In fact the months following the miscarriage the thought of getting pregnant again terrified me. Finally after some time to heal I opened myself up to God's will and could Trust Him again. He had plans for us- big plans.

More often these days I feel at peace with Gus being born into heaven instead of into my arms. But, today, I am more sad than normal. Today the "why did this happen?" question will haunt me. The day that was supposed to be pure joy is now bittersweet. Ryan and I are planning on having a special day out of town together. On our way to the interstate we'll drive by the hospital and I will be thinking, "I should be there. We should be turning into the parking lot instead of passing by. I should be feeling excitement, fear, joy. Instead I feel like I am in mourning again."

I try not to get too down on myself. After all, my sweet angel is in heaven. He never had to experience sickness, heartache, disappointment, sorrow, guilt, anger or envy. All he felt in those short five weeks was love and comfort. He's up in heaven with all our loved ones that have passed before us. He gets to laugh with my goofy uncles, play with his great-grandparents, sing with the angels and be in the arms of Christ Himself. There are many reasons I want to get to heaven. Gus is one of those reasons. I have a feeling, however, that if I do get to heaven, my sweet angel baby will run up to me, giggle a giggle that sounds like millions of chiming bells and say, "Mommy... I'm a girl!" She'll say this running up to me with a huge smile like her Daddy's, hugging me... and I will finally touch my beautiful child I never got to hold.

Girl or boy, I love my little angel baby. As hard as this experience was, I know that it has made me stronger. It made me embrace my Lord and Savior. It strengthened my marriage and the friendships around me. My miscarriage has made me even more pro-life and to realize even more so that pregnancy and children are a blessing, not a right. I know that I have my own little saint in heaven praying for Mommy, Daddy and baby brother or sister.

So today, on the day my first child was to be born, I rub my belly knowing that this is in God's hands. I rub my belly with a smile and a tear. I rub my belling knowing that my womb has been a home to two babies. What a beautiful blessing.

St. Augustine Crawford... Our Angel Baby Gus...

Happy Birthday, sweetheart... and please, pray for us.

A Spiritual Epilogue of My Miscarriage

In my last post I mentioned that I was going through a spiritual dry spell. I won't go into detail, but it got pretty bad. There's nothing worse than feeling depressed, hopeless and in despair of the future (finances, having children, careers) and feeling you can't reach out to God. Talk about feeling completely alone and utterly terrified.

Thankfully, by the grace of God (and I'm sure many prayers) I'm feeling a lot better. I decided to turn to Mary, the Mother of God, for her help. Then the other day I woke up and felt in my heart that everything was going to be OK. My husband and I had a sincere heart to heart and have laid the foundation for our plans for the future. We're not expecting things to get better right away; life may possibly get worse before it gets better, but we feel a great sense of peace.

So that brings me to be able to write more about my miscarriage and how my faith helped me through it.

Just a couple days ago my neighbor had her baby. I looked out the window when they were leaving for the hospital. Jane was standing by the car; her fiance, Shawn, was running back to the apartment and running back with a towel for her to sit on. I guess I should also explain that I live in a four-plex: Jane and Shawn live across from us, Jane's mom and sister live below them, and Jane's grandparents live below Ryan and I. So their whole family was all a buzz with excitement. Grandpa was yelling at Grandma to get in the minivan but she was busy calling relatives. Shawn was a nervous wreck, and Jane's mom was running around with her cell phone to her ear and trying get coats and pillows stuffed in the car. The funny thing was that it appeared that the most calm person in the group was Jane.

I looked on with a feeling of excitement. Jane became pregnant right around the time that Ryan moved into the apartment, so we have been a part of their journey of pregnancy from beginning. There had been some minor complications in her pregnancy so it was good to see that she had made it to term. As they all drove away in separate vehicles down the driveway I became a little sad. Their lives were about to change forever with the arrival of their new daughter. Not too long ago I had visions of what my own baby's delivery would be like.

We found out a couple hours later that there were complications and the baby had to be shipped off to a bigger hospital. Jane didn't even get to hold her baby and had to stay in the hospital due to a lingering fever.

A couple days later the new happy family came home to be together for the first time. We went over to see Jane, Shawn and the new baby. We decided to take our camera and take pictures to document their first day home. The next day we took in our camera card to Wal-Mart to print off the pictures we had taken.

There was a snapshot of all three of them and there was no doubt you could see the joy in their eyes. But then there was one picture of Jane holding her daughter, looking down on her smiling. That was the perfect picture showing what a mother's love and joy looks like. I got tears in my eyes. A couple months ago I would have printed off the picture hastily and been very upset that my chances of looking down on my own son or daughter had been ripped away from me. But instead of those feelings, I felt happiness. Happiness for Jane and her family, but also happiness in knowing that someday I will be a mother as well.

There have been many times in my life where I've run from God when I have had to experience a hardship. Thankfully my pride and stubbornness didn't keep me from begging for God's help during my miscarriage. I clung to Him, ran to Him, begged Him for help.

I knew going to Mass was going to be hard. I was still in pain and was worried that a medical emergency would suddenly occur and I'd faint during Mass. I also knew there were going to be a lot of happy families there. Women rubbing their pregnant bellies, mothers trying to wrangle a wiggly toddler and young children finding a snuggly pillow to rest their heads on their fathers' shoulders.

Despite all these obstacles, I needed to go to Mass. I needed the Word of God for strength. I needed the liturgy and to know that since Mass is literally supposed to be Heaven on Earth that all the angels and saints and my loved ones in heaven were there to comfort me.

Most of all I needed Christ in the Eucharist. My womb was empty and I needed my whole body and soul filled with the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus. Going to Mass brought me great joy and peace.

During all the physical pain I experienced I tried to remember all the pain Jesus suffered on the cross. His suffering, his tears, his pain- it was all for the greater good. I knew that in my own suffering something good could come out of it. I united my suffering with Christ's.

During all my emotional pain I remembered the Scripture reading when Mary and Joseph presented their newborn son Jesus in the Temple. Simeon had a prophesy regarding the future of Christ and in that prophesy he told Mary "...a sword will pierce through your own soul also" (Luke 2:35) When I got the news of my miscarriage I felt like sword had pierced my own soul. Now, I know I shouldn't compare my suffering with Mary's. Her's was much more substantial. However, I chose to imitate her example in following and accepting God's will. No matter how painful or unfair it seemed, I knew that God's plan was the best for us. Of course it didn't make sense, and it never will until (hopefully) the day I get to Heaven. God is all knowing and ALL GOOD so I knew He would take care of us. I could rest assured that Gus was safe and sound in the arms of God.

After the miscarriage was done my emotions were strange. When the doctor first told me the news of course I was devastated, but most of my attention was focuses on "OK, when is this going to start?" When it finally did start my attention was focused on "OK, when is this ordeal going to finally end?" When the miscarriage had completed itself I felt kind of lost- what was I supposed to do next? That's where my faith came in again. I devoted myself to prayer and asked God to guide me in what to do next.

In the following weeks I came across a girl on facebook who had also suffered a miscarriage. I had never met her and really had no idea what made me add her to my facebook months ago. My heart ached for her so I sent her a private message. In my hopes of offering comfort she in turn gave me strength. She explained that her pregnancy as well as mine were "huge successes." I had never thought of it in that way. In all my sorrow I forgot to be grateful that I was able to get pregnant. Just the act of conceiving can be a huge obstacle to some couples. And of course one of the main goals of being a parent is to get your children to heaven. Well, our Gus was of course in heaven which means we have our own little saint in eternal happiness praying for us. What a great success! This tragedy has brought me closer to a sister in Christ, and even if we've never met, I feel that is also a great success.

If I didn't have my Catholic faith to hold on to, I don't know what this experience would have been like. I really don't want to know. We have to remember that children are not a right, they are a gift. God has given me so many gifts- my family, my friends, my husband and my little Gus. And I know someday I will get to experience a mother's joy and happiness when I smile down at my own child.

A Miscarriage Prayer:

My Lord, the baby is dead!

Why, my Lord—dare I ask why? It will not hear the whisper of the wind or see the beauty of its parents’ face—it will not see the beauty of Your creation or the flame of a sunrise. Why, my Lord?

“Why, My child—do you ask ‘why’? Well, I will tell you why.

You see, the child lives. Instead of the wind he hears the sound of angels singing before My throne. Instead of the beauty that passes he sees everlasting Beauty—he sees My face. He was created and lived a short time so the image of his parents imprinted on his face may stand before Me as their personal intercessor. He knows secrets of heaven unknown to men on earth. He laughs with a special joy that only the innocent possess. My ways are not the ways of man. I create for My Kingdom and each creature fills a place in that Kingdom that could not be filled by another. He was created for My joy and his parents’ merits. He has never seen pain or sin. He has never felt hunger or pain. I breathed a soul into a seed, made it grow and called it forth.”

I am humbled before you, my Lord, for questioning Your wisdom, goodness, and love. I speak as a fool—forgive me. I acknowledge Your sovereign rights over life and death. I thank You for the life that began for so short a time to enjoy so long an Eternity.

-Mother M. Angelica

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted: My Pregnancy and Miscarriage

This story is not an easy one to tell. It’s probably not an easy one to hear either. However, I have found that reading other women’s stories of their own miscarriages has helped me a bit in my healing process. I feel telling my own story will help me in the process of moving forward and perhaps if some woman stumbles across this blog after suffering her own miscarriage, I can help her too. This will be a long story, but I am not just focusing on the miscarriage part- I want to also focus on the happier times before we got that devastating news…

I remember sitting there looking at my Natural Family Planning (NFP) chart with a huge smile. All the signs pointed to me being pregnant. It used to be a guessing game when my period would start, but after learning about my cycle by using NFP I knew that I should have started my period four days prior. And my basal body temperature I took every morning was remaining high- another sign of pregnancy.

After taking the pregnancy test I was expecting to see two very bright lines announcing the glorious news that I was indeed pregnant. Instead I saw one bright line and a very, very faint line beside it. It was so faint I thought I was imagining it. I decided to wait at least five more days and take another one- surely by then the line would have darkened up. Of course me being the very impatient person I am, I couldn’t wait five days, so three days later I purchased one of those Clear Blue Easy tests- the one that digitally say “pregnant” or “not pregnant.”

With a huge smile on my face I called my husband to the bathroom. I had always imagined a very grandiose and special way of telling him that he was going to be a Daddy, but all I did was hand him the test that said “Pregnant” on it. I hadn’t seen my husband smile like that in a very long time!

I wanted to stand on top of a tall building and announce with a megaphone that I was pregnant- I was SO incredibly happy. I had always dreamed of being a mommy and was excited for all the fun (and not so fun) stuff that came with the job. I knew this is what God designed me to do.

We told our very close friends and parents the happy news. Then the news started to slowly spread and leak out….to grandparents, uncles, aunts...co-workers…..old high school friends. But we were fine with that. We were bursting with happiness to tell everyone.

During my first OB appointment the doctor did an internal ultrasound and the gestational sac measured around four weeks. My doctor was a little concerned because according to my last period I should have been about seven weeks. He set up an appointment for the following week to check the baby’s progress. I was a little freaked out at first, but after studying my charts, I knew exactly when our little one was conceived. Four weeks was about right. Sure enough, the next week at my appointment our little one measured five weeks, six days. The doctor informed me that we were a couple days shy of seeing a heartbeat, so he scheduled us to come in after two weeks. All we could see on the sonogram screen was this little round circle that was nourishing and growing our baby. I LOVED that small circle.

Those days were filled with excitement. Ryan and I immediately started “arguing” whether it was a girl or a boy. My best friend , Ashlee, and I started coming up with in-utero nicknames. Some we came up with where Clarice, Gizmo, and Hoss.

I started rubbing cocoa butter lotion on my belly every night because a friend had told me the day she found out she was preggo she started rubbing it on and she didn’t get stretch marks. (Who knows if it was going to work for me, but I was still going to try it!)

I was definitely experiencing pregnancy symptoms. They weren't very comfortable, but I welcomed them. I felt blessed to be pregnant.

We received congratulations cards in the mail and a little package from the doctor’s office with a newborn baby diaper sample, prenatal vitamin samples, brochures and magazines about pregnancy. I would hold the little diaper and just marvel at how small it was and how I couldn’t wait to meet the little one whose cute little bottom would grace this diaper.

Out went the caffeine, deli meats and hot dogs and in came lots of water, healthy food and prenatal vitamins. I started doing some exercises on my Wii Fit- I was determined to get healthy for my baby!

I started reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Each week that passed I read of the amazing changes and growth our baby was going through. I would skip ahead and read about the months filled with baby kicks, hiccups, and being able to tell the gender of the baby. I was really looking forward to those days. I poured through the pregnancy magazines we got from the doctor’s office.

I knew that my next doctor’s appointment would be around the time my baby would be eight weeks old. The book said my baby would be the size of a large raspberry. I didn’t think I could make it a full two weeks to see my little berry on the sonogram screen, but thankfully my mom planned a trip for her, my oldest niece Emma and I to go to Colorado to visit my cousins during that two week wait. That would occupy my mind to think of other things besides sonograms and heartbeats.

While we were out there I decided to tell my Colorado cousins that I was expecting. In a couple of days I would have my sonogram and once we saw the heartbeat we were going to tell the rest of the family, but I figured that since I was going pee every five minutes and had occasional bouts of nausea they might suspect something was up. They were thrilled. My cousin Sara would come and rub my belly. I know some women hate when people do that, but I welcomed it.

The Colorado trip was amazing, even though I couldn’t ride the 100 ft. tall “Skycoaster” that swung people out by a harness mechanism over the 1200 foot Royal Gorge since I was pregnant. But I was OK with that- I didn’t want to do anything to harm my baby.

I came back to Waverly on Monday and was excited for the next day- that was our sonogram day! I had just had an amazing time with my family and now was excited to focus on my own little growing family.

We went into the doctor’s office on Tuesday. I was so excited- I knew I was pregnant, I had the symptoms, I saw the little circle on the sonogram screen before, but I didn’t really feel pregnant. But I knew once I saw that heartbeat that it would change my life forever. I sat in the examination room and the doctor came in to say, “Our sonogram machine is broken.” I was SUPER annoyed. We drove 25 miles to go to an appointment just for me to pee in a cup and have my blood pressure taken?! And we didn’t get to see our baby?! He asked if we wanted to wait a week to come back to his office or schedule a sonogram at the hospital the next day. Of course I opted for the latter. I was very disappointed. But at least I didn’t have to wait a week- in less than 24 hours I would get to see my baby.

The nurse told me to have a full bladder when I did my sonogram so the next day I drank my weight in water and juice. Driving to the hospital was an unusual experience- I was SO excited and happy yet I felt uncomfortable because I needed to go potty but I wasn’t allowed! Of course the wait before we went into the room where they did the sonograms seemed to take an eternity but finally I was lying on the paper-covered exam bed. This was a day I had dreamed of. I was so excited when the sonogram tech squirted the goo on my abdomen and started moving the sonogram device around and the screen displayed black and white grainy images.

I was expecting to see my little raspberry sized baby right away and was looking anxiously for the little fluttering heartbeat. The tech kept moving it around and taking pictures of my ovaries and different views of my uterus. “OK lady, let’s get to the good stuff!” is what I kept thinking, but she was just doing her job. “There’s your bladder,” she said. Wow did it look big and I thought if she kept focusing on ovaries and my bladder I would pee myself! I was starting to get worried/annoyed/uncomfortable when she said that she couldn’t quite see anything and she would do an internal sonogram.

I went to the bathroom (sweet glorious relief!!!) and wrapped a sheet around my waist. I was a little worried, but the tech didn’t seem too concerned and maybe my little Gizmo was just hiding. And surely with an internal sonogram I would REALLY be able to see my baby and the heartbeat.

I laid down and she inserted the wand. And there it was- the gestational sac. But it looked EXACTLY the same as it did two weeks previously. There was no raspberry-sized baby, no fluttering heartbeat- just that same circle I had fallen in love with weeks before. “You’re measuring 5 weeks, 3 days. Does that sound about right?” NO, NO, NO… this was NOT right at all. I was supposed to be eight weeks. NO, NO, NO….what on earth has happened? The machine must be broken….NO, NO, NO….

I calmly said that 5 weeks, 3 days was not right, I should be around eight weeks. She then informed me that I was either still really early or I had a miscarriage. I knew in my heart which one it was.

Instead of the happy words of “Congrats, here’s your baby! Here’s the head, the heart, you’ll be due to have it on such and such date…” it was the cold, steel-like words of, “I’ll have to have the radiologist take a look and call your doctor.”

We sat in the waiting room to see what our next step was. I was in pure shock. The sonogram tech came in and said, “I’m not a doctor, so I can’t say what has happened for sure, but your doctor will see you tomorrow morning at 8:40 a.m.”

The twenty-five mile drive back home I was a sobbing, blurry mess. I was screaming in anger. I wanted this horrible nightmare to vanish. I had never EVER felt so heartbroken in my entire life and I felt this crazed, scared lack of control in myself. I truly wanted to disappear.

I could in no way call my mother to tell her the news that I may have lost the baby. She had been so excited of our baby news and couldn’t wait to tell everyone that she was going to be a grandma to her fourth grandchild. I couldn’t bear to tell her so my husband (God bless him) called her up for me. He also called my father and had to tell his own parents the sad news.

That night my husband and I prayed a rosary together, held each other and cried. However, we both had a little hope that perhaps we could get a miracle. No one had said for sure that I had a miscarriage. We hung on to that very slim chance of a miracle.

The next day we went to the doctor. Instead of the usual exam room I had been in they took us to a sort of “meeting” exam room. The doctor came in and said, “Well, I don’t think it’s a miscarriage.” I asked for clarification- “You DON’T think, or you DO think?” “I DON’T think…” he said. However as he kept talking it seemed that first statement was a load of bull. “I hate to say it, but there’s about a 95% chance that you have had a miscarriage.” What the heck? Make up your mind, Doctor!

Our next step was to do a blood test that day and another one the next day to see if the pregnancy hormone in my blood was declining. He said he would call me the following afternoon.

The next day after my second round of blood tests I was an anxious mess. I cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom. I prayed a lot. I knew in my heart I had suffered a miscarriage, but since I still hadn’t received the “official” news I was in agony of thinking perhaps there was a chance I was still pregnant. The waiting was horrible.

My doctor said that if he didn’t call by 3:00 p.m. that I should call. At 3:01 p.m. I made the call. “You knew I’d forget, huh?” he joked. Enough with the wise-cracks Doc- I am in NO mood for funny. “Yeah, it looks like your pregnancy hormone levels are going down.” Instead of breaking down, I calmly asked what the next step would be. He suggested that since I was so early naturally miscarrying would probably be the best way. If the miscarriage hadn’t occurred in a couple weeks then I could have a D&C (a surgical procedure where they scrape away the remains of the baby and lining of the uterus.)

I had already made up my mind the day before that if God forbid I did lose the baby I would do this naturally. I have never had any kind of surgery before, so the thought of even a minor procedure scared the crap out of me. I knew it was going to be a very difficult time emotionally and physically but I was prepared (or I thought I was) to deal with it. I believe my womb is a sacred place and I felt for my unborn baby’s sake that I would do this in the least abrupt way. (I know that makes no sense…but in my own warped way it makes perfect sense to me.) Miscarrying naturally was the best option for me.

I hung up the phone and was too shocked to sob or even move. Ryan came to hug me and being in my beloved’s arms- those strong arms that take care of me, that work hard to provide for us- I broke down. It’s hard to describe my feelings. I had never felt this kind of pain before. I felt empty, my heart was broken and I felt like I would never again feel happy. I was experiencing the lowest of lows. To borrow a quote from Theodore Roosevelt: "The light has gone out of my life."

Ryan again made the calls to our family confirming the news. I pathetically text messaged my friends and threw my phone in my purse, not interested in answering it for a long time. My mom dropped everything and drove the three hours to Waverly to be with me. Ryan was in agony if he should call into work. I told him to go, and that I would be fine with my mommy with me. She came and spent the night. The next day we explored Lexington's Civil War battlefields and drove to Richmond. But then she had to leave, and the sadness crept back in. While she was there I barely thought about the miscarriage.

However the next day my best friend Ashlee came to bring me comfort and spend the night. She taught me how to make home-made noodles, apple crisp and salsa. Such wonderful comfort foods to get my mind off of all the horrible events that had taken place. We watched movies and chatted. When she left I bawled. I had to face what was going to happen.

We received sympathy cards and were assured that people were praying for us. A lot of people expressed that “They just didn’t know what to say.” And I completely understood where they were coming from. What do you say to someone who’s had a miscarriage? It’s all so heartbreaking. I only have two close friends who have babies, and they never had a miscarriage. I felt so alone, until we posted our news on Facebook. Many wonderful women sent me private messages telling me of their own sorrow of miscarriage. Some girls I barely even knew, but hearing from them gave me great comfort. And I thank you all who wrote me emails, prayed for us, stayed with us, and grieved with us from the bottom of my heart. God bless you.

I really don’t want to get into the nitty gritty details of the actual miscarriage. I choose to focus on the good rather than the bad. The entire natural miscarriage lasted about twelve days and could be described as a really long and heavy period. Praise be to Jesus that I never had a high temperature or passed too much blood to have to go to the E.R. There were two days that were particularly horrible. Around the fifth day the bleeding and cramping suddenly went away. I thought it was over and thought “Hmm, that wasn’t too bad at all.” Oh boy, was I wrong. I woke up around 2:30 a.m. with extremely horrible cramps. They came every ten minutes. I never have gone into labor but these cramps weren’t the run-of-the-mill cramps I’ve had in the past with my period. Nothing helped the pain- I tried ibuprofen, a heating pad, a warm bath. I was so exhausted but lying in bed made it worse. I camped out in the bathroom begging for this whole thing to be over. I finally crawled back into bed around 6:30 a.m. and that was the last time I remember looking at the clock.

The next morning I promptly called my doctor for some pain meds. I got some Vicodin and while it didn’t take away all the pain, it did take the edge off and made me laugh hysterically at a car commercial. Best of all it helped me to get some MUCH needed sleep that night.

Somewhere in that blur of days I realized we found out about the miscarriage on August 28th- the feast day of St. Augustine. So Ryan and I decided to name our little one Gus.

I never went back to the doctor. He never ordered a follow up appointment or weekly blood work to see the rate of my falling pregnancy hormones. He was a nice guy, but as soon as the miscarriage occurred he had a “Well, you’re not pregnant, so we’re done with you” attitude. I was OK with not going back. I don’t think I could handle being in a waiting room full of pregnant women.

It was hard enough to see all these women putting up belly pictures and sonogram pictures up on Facebook. I swear days after I found out about my miscarriage four women found out they were pregnant. I immediately "hid" them and prevented their status updates being shown on my Facebook homepage news feed thingy. Whenever they would post their joyous news I’d immediately get so upset. It wasn’t fair. How come my own joy had been taken from me?

My 25th birthday was a bit of a sad one for me. I would have been past my first trimester on that day.

But slowly, things are getting better. There was a point where I never thought I’d be happy again. I was in such a dark place of depression and despair. I still have that pain, and I believe I’ll carry part of that pain the rest of my life. But now I’ve found that I can unblock those pregnant women’s statuses and congratulate other women who have recently found out they are pregnant.

Some days are better than others. During the miscarriage I didn’t talk to ANYBODY- not even my own mother about what was going on. Now I feel like I can bring it up and talk about it, but on my own terms. Some days I think I’m doing just fine, but then something comes up, like seeing my pregnant neighbor’s baby shower, and I fall apart. But the next day comes and I look to the cross for strength and guidance. Our loving Father never fails in helping me through the bad days.

Of course I clung to my faith. I plan to write an “epilogue” sort of thing in a couple days to explain how I’ve used my Catholic faith in the healing process. This is quite long already, and I don’t want to drone on any longer. Thanks for listening to my story.

“Mommy, please don’t cry.

The angels are always singing.

I love to sing with the angels!

You’d be proud of me.

I have a pretty good voice. I must have gotten it from you.”

-Mommy Please Don’t Cry…There are No Tears in Heaven.