Last May, I went for my annual exam with my midwife and left with an order for a mammogram. Welcome to my forties! I didn’t schedule the mammogram right away because I had a friend coming to stay and wanted to wait until after her visit. One evening towards the end of her week with us, we went out to dinner and she teased me for getting up to use the ladies’ room so frequently. It didn’t occur to me that there might be an underlying reason for those visits until about a week later when I realized that a pregnancy test might be in order. Sure enough, the test was positive so I scheduled an appointment with my midwife for what I estimated to be the 8th week of the pregnancy. After having lost a baby the summer before in the very early weeks, we were nervous and uncertain. Would this baby have a heartbeat? But at the same time, this pregnancy felt different somehow, so I was hopeful.
The baby did have a heartbeat. My eyes filled with tears and I got the same feeling that I have had every time I see a new baby’s heart beating for the first time. The two midwives in the room laughed with Jonny and me. According to my chart, I shouldn’t have been pregnant. But I was. This one’s meant to be we all agreed and I thought ahead to February when our little baby would arrive. I wondered at the timing of it. Jonny was in the midst of interviewing out of state. We thought we would be moving before the year was out. There were all sorts of possible scenarios including him moving and us staying behind for a while. A pregnancy would make it all so hard, but we would figure it out, I was sure. I knew that God must have a plan for us and this baby.
While I quickly needed to start wearing looser clothing, I was a little concerned over how well I felt. I wasn’t tired. Really, I felt great and I attributed it to God’s Grace. A few episodes of feeling ill reassured me that all was well, not to mention the weight I was gaining. But I started feeling a little uneasy. Then I had a difficult week emotionally with anxiety and sadness almost paralyzing me. I hoped it was all the job and moving uncertainty, but told a friend that I was worried there was something wrong with the baby. In hindsight, I know now that my baby had died. It’s a terrible thing to carry another soul inside you and have it leave this world. I felt it before I knew.
In the early hours of the miscarriage, before things were at their worst, I started knitting. I had been just about to cast on my first project for the baby and still wanted to make her something. I ended up knitting a tiny little pouch to hold her remains. It gave me something to do for her and I desperately wanted that.
I can’t describe the physical loss of our baby as anything less than brutal. I labored at home but packed a bag in case I needed to go to the hospital. I knew to be careful and sat over a bucket so that I wouldn’t lose her body. I was grateful that I was able to stay at home and I recovered some small remains of her to tuck inside that tiny knitted pouch.
During the 6 weeks or so that I knew I was pregnant, Jonny and I had our usual bedtime conversations about baby names. He is never a very willing participant in these little talks, but I start obsessing over names the second I see that second line on a pregnancy test. The way it usually goes is I make suggestions and he tells me, “Not that one.” We never did agree on a boy name, but I thought the baby was a girl anyway. And while we did choose a name for her, a different one kept popping into my head: Eleanor Frances Eugenia. Had she lived, I don’t think this would have been her exact name because Larkspur’s first name is Eleanor (for my maternal grandmother). But I do love thinking of her with this name now. Frances was my grandmother’s neighbor, and I loved to visit her when I was a little girl, and Eugenia is for my Aunt Genie. I like that it feels as if her name was given to me. It seems like an acknowledgment that she was real and important, she was here with us, and in some mysterious way, she still is. God did have a plan, just not one that I can understand and I accept that. It’s been three months now, and I still think about her. My body has been a bit of a mess since the loss and that makes it harder to forget. It’s not that I don’t want to remember her, I just want the grief to lift. Such a deep, unexpected grief it has been.
Two days after the miscarriage we drove to Big Meadows, and in a nearby spruce grove that Jonny and the kids had discovered just a few days before, we buried that tiny little pouch holding her remains, said prayers, and shed tears together. It was hard to leave at the end of that day, but it felt like the right place for her. Somewhere we can always visit, a place we have held dear for many years. A place where I take all my babies.
In the days that followed friends sent meals, flowers, and cards and I deeply appreciated those gestures. I saved everything that had a connection to her and have it all tucked away in a box. Yesterday, Jonny and I and our younger kids visited Big Meadows for our 21st wedding anniversary, our first time back since this summer. I wasn’t sure how I would feel when we reached the spot where we buried her remains. Would it be hard to walk away again? But, it wasn’t. I felt peace in the knowledge that she isn’t there. She is with her Maker, and she is with me, and she will always be.
Thank you for this beautiful post from last year. We have four daughters and another two babies in heaven, one of whom I’m miscarrying right now. You’re right: my babe is with God and Mary, but I am so sad that I won’t hold him until I die. Blessings to you all.
So very sorry for your loss ❤️ I had a very similar experience with my first miscarriage (I’ve had two); I had no physical signs at first, but I was suddenly all over the place emotionally. And it peaked with out of nowhere crazy rage that I haven’t experienced since, where I was literally screaming at husband for no reason. He closed the door not realizing the handle was locked and I was screaming through the door that I was going to kick it down if he didn’t unlock it immediately (all of this as we’re heading out for an extended family trip to the orchard). That night I started bleeding. At first, I thought I was bleeding because of how angry I had been and I tortured myself with that while waiting to head in for bloodwork and a scan to confirm what I already knew. When the levels came back it was clear the baby had already died by that point and the nurse was shocked that I hadn’t been bleeding all along. It’s weird how our body starts mourning before we even know what’s happening. My body had already gone through the steps of grieving…sadness when the baby died, turning to anger trying to hold on to a baby it could not keep, and finally acceptance and letting go…before I even knew anything was wrong.
Thank you for sharing this Ginny, I know it will help others who has experienced a similar pain. I’m so sorry for your loss. So much love to you and your family!
Knowing the grief of such loss, and knowing that some wounds need protection in order to heal, I am always grateful when mothers choose to share their own. It is a privilege for us to join both in rejoicing over this eternal soul God tenderly knit within you and to enter into your grief over her loss. You honored her beautifully, and these pictures moved me to tears.
May our Father continue to bolster you and your sweet family.
Ginny, I am so sorry to hear of another miscarriage for you. It truly is heartbreaking for your family. I must say, the burial your family had was beautiful. You will definitely be in my prayers.
Ginny, I am so sorry to hear of another miscarriage for you. It truly is heartbreaking to lose a baby. I must say, the burial your family had was beautiful! You and your family will definitely be in my prayers.
sending love and prayers from northern Ontario. my sweet five month old daughter is asleep in her crib, but the pregnancy i lost the year before her birth is still painful to me, and i think probably always will be.
i often think of this quote from the Anne of Green Gable Series (Book 5):
“But it seems as if part of me was buried over there in that little harbor graveyard– and it hurts so much that I’m afraid of life.”
“It won’t hurt so much always, Anne.”
“The thought that it may stop hurting sometimes hurts me worse than all else, Marilla.”
what an absolutely beautiful way to honor your baby. i’m sorry for your loss.
Ginny, my heart aches for your family’s loss. I am praying that your your grief is comforted and your body heals in the fullness of grace.
Dear Ginny, I am so very sorry to read of your loss. Sending you love, Emily xx
Ginny your children always look like they enjoy what they are doing no matter what they are involved with . I try to cut down being on the computer and enjoy the simple things in life. Thank you for sharing.
Marion
Ginny your children always look like they enjoy what they are doing no matter what they are involved with . I try to cut down being on the computer and enjoy the simple things in life.
Marion
I am so very sorry for your loss. I’ve had 4 miscarriages, they never get easier. I still love those little souls who never got to be.
Much love to your whole family and especially to you.
Ginny and Jonny, I am so sorry for the loss of this precious soul on ‘this side’. May her spirit dance in the big meadow. Sending much love and very gentle squeezes. Tania xoxo
This is so beautiful. thank you for writing this.
Oh Ginny, I’m so very, very sorry for your loss. I lost 2 babies in my mid forties, definitely not the end to my childbearing years that I had hoped for. It was a bookend to the loss of my very first pregnancy. Like you said though, what a comfort to know that they are all in His hands. You will be in my prayers.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Ginny! I know that grief all too well. Praying for you and your family.
Holding you and your family in the light as you mark this passage.
Oh Ginny, I am so sorry. Thank you for writing this and sharing your heart. So often a miscarriage is not talked about and the person is left to sort it all out by themselves. So glad you had people around to minister to you and feed you and love you. May your loss get lighter as the days pass.
Ginny, I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. Over thirty years ago, my husband and I lost a baby at 12 weeks. I still think of him/her and wonder. Praying that you find the peace that we finally found.
Ginny, I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. Over thirty years ago, my husband and I lost a baby at 12 weeks. I still think of him/her and wonder. Praying that you find peace.
I am very sorry for your loss. May she rest in peace.
My GrandMa died in June two years ago. At the cemetery rested her last daughter, Rosaria, born dead in 1969. I went to the little grave and told her “Be happy because your mum is arriving “. I am not a strong believer, I do not have that full Faith that you share with your family, but I know that one day families will be in peace somewhere. I trust that I will see my own Nicoletta, miscarried at 23 weeks, one day, and that she will meet her younger brother and sister, who know her and love her so much that they draw her, play with her, talk with her. I’m sorry for your loss, but faithful in a future all together.
Oh, Ginny, I’m so sorry for your loss. I think it’s beautiful how you have a special place for her. My heart and prayers are with you.
Sending you so much love, Ginny.
Ginny I feel so sad for you and am impressed by the caring sentiments of your friends
and their concern.
What moves me also are the pictures of your children in prayer-it is beautiful and reminds me of my own christian upbringing.
You are great parents.
I am so glad to also seeGabe holding the little one as well -He is also a symbol of your hearts of love.
Thank you for sharing your heartbreaking personal journey and letting us see your faith and love. I am so very sorry for your loss and pray for peace and healing for you and all your family.
I’m so sorry. Tears as I read because this felt so much like my own miscarriage 14 years ago. You have mourned well and done this child honor. I am comforted by remembering Isaiah 66:20: “No more shall there be an infant who loves only a few days…but as the days of the oak tree shall the days of My people be.”
What a sad but beautiful story. Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing it. Your baby is in a restful and lovely place, both in body and more importantly, the spirit. May God’s peace rest upon you and your family.
God bless you Ginny and Jonny- you are both in my prayers with your family. May the souls of the faithful departed, by the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen
I was so saddened to read of the loss of your wee babe..oh how hard that must have been 🙁 Please know you are in my prayers. I thought the little send off you had for her was just beautiful. You are so thoughtful in all you do. Hugs to you ~ Linda
Love and light to you all.
Your heart has always been in the big meadow and now it holds an even dearer meaning for you. I am so sorry for your loss. May you all find comfort and peace.
Ginny and family I am so sorry for your loss and hope that you are able to find peace and know you sweet baby girl is home with her father in heaven.
My daughter lost her little girl Sky at 27 weeks and I knitt a little dress and hat and booties for her . She was so tiny and beautiful and I had never had that experience before. Hug and Blessings Sandra
Thank you for sharing your story, I am so very sorry for your loss, but am glad your are taking comfort that she is with the Lord and you will meet her someday,
I am so sorry. Thank you for sharing this sad and faith-filled story. It will be part of the happy ending toward which we are journeying.
Ginny we are so sorry for your loss. Hope you can take peace that your baby girl is in Heaven. God Bless you and yours.
Joan,Marion and Marilyn
Ginny, I am so very sorry for your loss. My first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at 11 weeks and I also have always believed that my husband and I will meet our little one in heaven. We don’t know if our baby was a boy or girl but we do know how much we loved him or her.