National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

October 15 is the day to remember all the lost babies. Because we obviously don't think about them any other day, right? And what's the appropriate card or gift to honor the day?

I know, I'm trying to make light of a shitty situation. I can't help it. Sometimes I just don't know what to do with the thoughts and feelings I have surrounding the loss of my sons. But Mel asked for someone to write about this subject for Bridges, and how can I resist a woman who says that hugging me is like drawing from a well?

So here I sit, the eve of the big day, dreading the final presidential debate and once again trying to find a way to dip into the deep lake of agony that is the loss of my sons--without falling apart.

I've already written about how hard it's been this year; the anniversary of their loss is only a few days away. The combination of time of the year along with another intense presidential campaign--just like four years ago--has made the pain much more acute. Additionally, I've been going to a couple new playgrounds and for some reason the two Tori has picked as her favorites are simply awash in twins (at least four sets at one, and three at the other--that I've seen so far). When I see these sets of twins, I'm filled with conflicting feelings. Now living in the full throes of toddlerdom, I don't envy the parents of those twins--I can't imagine my life with two 3 year old boys. Gah. I can barely handle the single child I've got.

But I still miss them. I still feel like I can almost see their faces when I close my eyes. I still remember the horrible sinking feeling I had when the doctors said we had to terminate. I still remember trying to walk off the operating table. I remember being alone, in my hospital room, feeling an emptiness that cannot be described.

Healing has happened, of course. I no longer cry when I see little boys, or even twin little boys. I feel a sense of overall peace about the loss; it has certainly been mitigated by the overwhelming love I feel for my daughter. I generally, on any given day, am not a walking wound. I'm happy. Content. At peace.

But, of course, I miss them. I will always miss them, as will every other mother that has tread this path before me. Lately I've had the chance to see four women--much older than I am--all share about their loss of children and how it changed their lives. Losing a child, whether at eight weeks, eight months, eight years or even eighty years hurts like nothing else. We do not "get over" it. It merely becomes yet another piece of our busted-and-mended hearts.

Thanks to my blog, I've heard nothing but words of comfort from you folks about the loss of Nicholas and Zachary. Today, instead of saying it again, share your stories. I want to hear about what today means to you, either as someone who has felt a loss or someone who has helped a friend cope. I have found that grief shared is grief lightened--let's all lighten our loads today.

Let's all remember.

Comments

[Donna]

1.

Hugs. Sniff.. Sniff...

[Denise]

2.

I'm trying to think of something brilliant to say, but I'm at a loss. I'm not in a good place myself at the moment and can only offer my continued support Cecily. Having suffered from HELLP with my first and PE with my second, becoming pregnant with the third was incredibly frightening.

All I can say is thank you for your honesty and your frankness in sharing with all of us.

[kim]

3.

Long time lurker, first time commenter (I think). It was the story of your boys that made me read your blog back to the beginning. And now, as I sit here and listen to McCain talk about abortion, I want to throw my shoe through my tv to shut him up. It makes me so mad he can be so cavalier about late-term abortion. He knows nothing about the loss and pain that go into those life-changing decisions.

Thank you for sharing your story about Nicholas and Zachary. I wish you strength on the anniversary of their loss.

[Kay]

4.

I just found out a few hours ago that my neighbor is going to have to terminate due to chromosomal abnormalities. Everyone is crushed.

Some of us "pro-lifers" do realize that not all abortions are cavalier choices. There is often pain associated with them.

God bless Cecily.

[Cetta]

5.

(((hugs)))) my thoughts are with you, hon.

[Leta]

6.

I had a miscarriage this past March. I say I lost the pregnancy, because I had a blighted ovum- that is, I was merely pregnant with a gigantic placenta- so I don't know that there was ever a baby there.

But it was awful. I was four months gone, showing, my two year old rubbing my belly and asking "Baby?"

We bought a minivan, talked about names, asked my mom to buy us new car seats as her baby gift. We had told everyone, so telling them again was pretty horrible.

I got a D&C. I couldn't just keep waiting, keep gestating, knowing that I would just give birth to, you know, fertilizer.

They knocked me out for the D&C. They told me that were going to sedate me- my ass. They KNOCKED me OUT.

And when I came to, while I was relieved that it was all over, I was mad. All the women whose hands I held while someone vaccumed her uterus- they got fucking Motrin, not oblivion. It's not fair. They deserve to be treated as gently as I was.

I wanted my baby. I still want my baby. But it sucks, it's hard all around, no matter if the baby is wanted, unwanted, planned, unplanned.

I just found out I'm pregnant again. I've told no one but my husband. Other than my boobs hurting, I don't feel pregnant. I'm scared. I'm kind of numb, and afraid to get to attached. Some secret little piece of me wants to know, now, if I was pregnant with a real baby back in March, or if it was just placenta gone mad. Because if their was a baby there, if there was a soul, I hope it's that same one that has come back to me.

And then watching McCain tonight, saying how "health" of the mother has been "stretched". I wanted to fucking reach in the TV and strangle him.

If women who mourn and weep for the children lost in their room can look on their desperate, unhappily pregnant sisters with compassion, how can anyone judge us for that? Especially someone who will never, in this life anyway, know what quickening feels like? What it is to carry another person under your heart, literally?

If we can understand, if we can accept, no matter how much it might hurt, why can't he?

[Liz]

7.

Thinking of you, my dear. I was actually thinking of you before I read this post (and the reason I came here at this moment), because McCain pissed me off so badly. I'm sending you hugs and love.

[Cristina]

8.

I lost my daughter Alexa Rose on 6/10/05. On my healing journey, I have met many courageous women that have suffered this horrible loss. But tonight, I have been hit again, very hard. Tonight, my friend who lost her first baby in March 05, then had a miscarriage, then infertility, where she had IVF this last spring, was on bed rest all summer, lost her son at 30 weeks today. I am sad & grieving again.
So tonight, I remember all babies...but I am thinking of my friend that has to go through this all over again.
Peace Cecily...thanks for helping me grieve & process tonight.

[Melissa]

9.

As a (former) labor & delivery nurse, I have seen hundreds of joyful births, but it's those few losses that just stick in my mind. I can't even begin to know how they (or you) feel, and I know my words were never good enough for those moms.

I will always remember the Turner Syndrome stillborn baby, and her mother who sought me out a couple of years later when she came to deliver her healthy child.

I can't listen to a particular song anymore, it's the first song I heard on the radio the day I met a full-term totally perfect stillborn, I helped footprint the baby during one of my early orientation shifts.

I always wonder about this one mom who delivered a relatively small stillborn, she was heavily medicated and delivered very rapidly with her bag of water intact (it's kind of like delivering a water balloon). The dad followed me into the nursery to see the baby, but mom never asked to see.

There was the tiny baby (~22 weeks) that was born during an attempted cerclage (and later I had to look at the baby and look for her gender, for paperwork). The mom was a young teen and I remember feeling secretly grateful for her. She came back about a year later and had another (preemie, but healthy) baby. I guess she was determined to be a teen mom no matter what.

Although I wasn't ever involved in their care, I will never forget the way this one Native American family gathered during the delivery of a stillborn, and how the family went through the trouble to get the permits required to take the baby home with them to bury on the reservation (instead of doing the funeral home thing).

Thank you for giving me this opportunity to remember these babies.

[C]

10.

I wrote the following post about the anniversary of my miscarriage last September.

http://whenismyturn.wordpress.com/2008/09/27/gone-not-forgotten/

My beloved first child is still very present in my heart.

[Laura]

11.

A Grieving Parent
A grieving parent is someone who will never forget their child no matter how painful the memories are.
A grieving parent is someone who yearns to be with their dead child but cannot conceive leaving their living ones.
A grieving parent is someone who has only part of a heart as the rest of it is buried with their child.
A grieving parent is someone who begs for relief from the memories which plague them and then feels guilty when they get it.
A grieving parent is someone who pretends to be happy and enjoying life when they really feel like dying inside.
A grieving parent is someone who holds the lives of their remaining children as the most precious gift they have.
A grieving parent is someone who can cry or laugh at the drop of a hat whenever they remember their beloved child.
A grieving parent is someone who feels as if they lost their child yesterday no matter how much time has passed.
A grieving parent is someone who fears for their remaining family because they cannot bear to have any more loss.
A grieving parent is someone who sits by their child's gravestone and feels a knife stabbing their heart.
A grieving parent is someone who wants to help others who have lost loved ones because somehow their loss is theirs all over again.

-Author unknown to me

[Sassy]

12.

I'm thinking of you. *hugs*

[eileen]

13.

Cecily, I'm so sorry. I feel linked to you via your blog, and the fact that we both lost twin boys around the election 2004 ( http://eisight.com/data/story.htm )

Wishing you a lighter load,
Eileen

[Siri]

14.

Thank you. Thank you for being you and being so open and honest. I lost a baby November of 2002 and it still hurts me to this day. For you the election triggers a deeper sadness over the loss of your boys. For me when fall starts, when the leaves start to change, when it gets cooler at night..that is when I feel the pain deeper. Fall is one of my favorite seasons where I live (in the Pacific Northwest-it is so full of color and beauty. But the saddness starts to creep in and I do the best I can to "deal with it" but somedays I am just nothing but sad.
Now some would say it was "not that big of a deal" as I was "only" 10 weeks. But to me it was our baby...10 weeks, 10 days, 10 years. Didn't care. I loved the baby and WANTED this baby. I truly think my saving grace was that I had the miscarriage November 15th but on February 3rd I found out I was pregnant and that baby just turned 5 years old this last Monday. So I hear you-another child does not replace the loss you when through, but it does take the focus off of it and place it on a new life.
SORRY to rammble. You got me on a sad day...

[Dramalish]

15.

My mother has seven living children. I am the fourth, but I am not her fourth pregnancy. She was pregnant 3 years before I was born with a little girl that she lost at 6 months.

My mother does not talk about this loss often, and as a kid I thought it was because she didn't think about it much. I couldn't have been more wrong. Once, when I pressed her, she recounted the loss minute by minute, in horrifying detail- including being completely awake for the procedure that removed the baby from her part by part... I hope I'm not being too graphic saying that.

"It was a girl. It was a baby girl." She repeated those sentences again and again telling me her story.

You never "get over it." If you never have another child, or if you go on to have seven- it's a wound that many hide, but scars the same.

[Kerrie]

16.

Remembering Nicholas and Zachary with you Cecily...you write so eloquently about your sons.

My first daughter Jess, died just short of her first birthday...that thief in the night, SIDS, was the cause, or not as the case may be.

I'm lighting my remembrance candle tonight for all the babies and children gone too soon. I'll hold your dear little boys close to my heart.

So much love...

[Hetty Fauxvert]

17.

I'm so sorry... not only for the loss of your sons -- but I'm also very sorry if my mentioning my twin sons in my various responses to your posts has pained you at times. I just never thought. I do apologize.

I'm lucky; I don't have anyone in my life who has lost an infant or even had a miscarriage. But I still think about the two fetuses we had to terminate at 12 weeks because my docs were adamant that I could not carry four babies. One fetus had a cystic hygroma and probably would have died anyway, and one had a thick nuchal fold, but I still think about them and it still hurts. I guess some things will always hurt, though it seems to me that scars do get tougher as time goes by.

[becky]

18.

my dearest friend gave birth to her stillborn 37 week old baby boy a year ago today and her grief is still so acute. i can only send her my love, as i do you cecily.

[Janice]

19.

My Grandmother raised eight children. She also gave birth to a ninth child pre term which was stillborn. Somewhere lurking in the back of her mind always was this child. She didn't know whether it was a boy or girl. She wasn't told. She grieved this child I believe as long as she lived. This is my chance to honor and pay tribute to her sweet baby. She is with it now. God Bless you Cecily, and all the others who miss their babies, whether miscarried, aborted, stillborn, or passed way too soon. I am so sorry.

[Kristin]

20.

Before I even began my journey through infertility, I attended to funerals for friends' babies. Nothing breaks your heart in quite the same way. Now, 11 pregnancies and 3 children later, I have my own lost ones to mourn. Those babies I never got to meet are forever a part of my heart and my family. My thoughts and prayers are with all those who have lost children.

[mamadaisy]

21.

god, this is depressing.

I terminated my second pregnancy at 16 weeks + 2 days after discovering chromosmal abnormalities and cystic hygroma with hydrops. I do not know if it was a boy or girl. This was a much wanted child and a devastating loss. Devastating is not a big enough word for it.

This time of year is always hard for me. We found out on October 25, and ended the pregnancy on November 4th, 2004 -- election day. On October 28, 2005, I gave birth to my second living, healthy child. To have all of these dates so close together is so confusing. I mourn the loss of the baby left behind, yet celebrate the life of my living son.

I don't talk about it anymore, but I will never, ever forget. Cecily, thank you for sharing your story and giving us the opportunity to share ours.

[Dana]

22.

Almost two years ago (it'll be two years this coming Christmas) I found out that I was pregnant(due to my health constraints, a pregnancy was not an option, so my husband had had a vasectomy. We were one of the extremely unlucky extremely few for whom it doesn't 'take') I wanted that pregnancy SO badly. However, after the birth of my daughter my doctor had told me in no uncertain terms that trying to carrying another pregnancy to term would at most kill me and at least result in bedrest and emergency surgery with the chance of massive uncontrolled bleeding. Because of the two children I do already have, and because I would like to be here for them, on January 5th, 2007 that pregnancy had to be terminated.

The due date for that pregnancy would have been August 22nd, a Wednesday. This past August, on the 20th, a Wednesday, my best friend, a woman who is a sister to me in every way but genetics, gave birth to her "oops" baby - #7 for her and hubby. She had asked me to be at the hospital when the baby was born, which ended up being a LOT harder for me than I thought it would be. I'm very lucky to be "auntie" to this adorable little baby girl, but I have to admit to insane jealousy that *she* got to have her baby, and on what may have been the 1st birthday of mine, in an alternate universe.

All of this swirls through my mind right now. All of my most heartfelt sorrows for anyone who has lost a child, or children, in any capacity.

[Mel]

23.

I remember where I was on your terrible day Cecily and still recall that feeling of being punched in the gut when I read what was happening to you and your beautiful babies. I will never forget it and I am in awe of your strength and applaud your grace as you continue to deal with it.

I hope you address in your post tomorrow the depths that McCain has somehow managed to plumb when he used air quotes to describe the consideration for the health of the mother in relation to abortion. Insinuating that it was used as an excuse, and that a woman should not choose her own life if faced with a decision as terrible as yours. I expect this attitude from one of the trolls that sometimes pop up here but from a man hoping to lead the country? He is shameless at the lengths he will go to try and win an election. He deserves everything he gets on November 4th.

[jenn]

24.

A dear friend gave birth to twins this year at 25 weeks, only to lose one of the twins three and a half months later. It was heartbreaking.

My heart goes out to all of you who have lost children. I can't imagine anything tougher to overcome. *hugs*

[Dana]

25.

This is something a friend of mine eithers posts on her MySpace or sends out this time of year every year.

Chapter Excerpt from Part IV of BabyCatcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife

Spirit Baby

Colin, my twelve-year-old son, discovered me late one rainy afternoon sitting at the kitchen table, a damp Kleenex crumpled in my left hand, wiping my eyes as I tried to compose myself for his sake. It was the third week of January, two months after I'd miscarried a pregnancy, but I still found it impossible to get through a day without at least one meltdown into misery.

Stunned w hen the test came back positive, Rog and I had stared at each other with doubt and ambivalence. At forty-one, my professional life consumed me. I'd just achieved what some had predicted was an impossibility: I'd been granted delivery privileges at Alta Bates, and as a consequence, my midwifery practice burgeoned. Some months I delivered twelve babies, and no one ever knew if or when I'd be home. Rog, too, felt stretched to his limits, keeping his business afloat while picking up the slack for my frequent unscheduled absences. Colin and Jill approached their challenging adolescent years. How could we fit an infant into our lives? But when I lost the pregnancy and all hope for resolution dissolved with my tears, I fell in love with the baby that was not to be.

Colin asked, "Are you crying about the baby?" and when I nodded tearfully, he said, "Well, you just have to have another one, Mom, because it's a Spirit Baby, and you should be its mother.
"

I must have looked puzzled because he said, "Don't you know about Spirit Babies? How could I know about them if you don't? I mean, you're my mom!" But he could see my perplexity.

So my first child, this not-yet-teenaged boy, pulled a wooden chair to my side and draped his thin arm across my shoulders, saying, "Well, Mom, here's how it is. See, I was one myself, so that must be how I know. Anyway, every woman has a circle of babies that goes around and around above her head, and those are all the possible babies she could have in her whole life. Every month, one of those babies is first in line. If she gets pregnant, then that's the baby that's born. If she doesn't get pregnant, the baby goes back into the circle and keeps going around with all the others. If she gets pregnant but something bad happens before the baby's born…now listen, Mom, because here's the really cool part. It goes back into the circle, but it becomes a Spirit Baby, and all the other babies give it cuts. Each month, it's always first in line.
Isn't that great?

"So you just have to get pregnant again, and you'll have the same Spirit Baby. If you don't, though, then the baby circle will just beam that little Spirit Baby over to some other woman's circle, and it'll be first in line for her. It keeps being first in line somewhere until it finally gets born.

"But it'd be a shame for you not to have it yourself, because I know how much you want it. So you just have to try again. Mom, remember that baby you lost before I was born?" I nodded wordlessly. "Well, that was me. Really. I've always known I was a Spirit Baby. I mean, I know what I'm talking about here, Mom.
"

In spite of Colin's certainty that our household, so often bordering on chaos, lacked only an infant to make things perfect, Rog and I demurred. But Colin didn't give up and even enlisted his sister's support. Driving with them in the car one evening, I looked at my son in the passenger seat beside me. He stared out the side window and tried to hide his tears, but I saw the flush on his face, the shaking of his shoulders, and the surreptitious swipe of hand across cheek.

Six months had passed since my miscarriage, and I had just finished yet another discussion in which I'd told my pleading son that having a third baby at my age was out of the question. I reached over the space between us and squeezed his fingers. "Colin, I don't understand this passion you have for a baby.
Why do you want one so much?"

He tore his gaze from the distant hills and looked at me with swimming eyes and trembling lips. In a choking voice, he put all of his twelve-year-old passion into his reply.

"Oh, Mom! Oh.
Just for the joy of it!"

Jill stretched forward from the back seat and placed a hand on each of our shoulders. "Yeah, Mom, just for the joy of it.
"

It was my turn to look out the side window and struggle with misty vision.

So, at a time when most women eye the empty nest at the end of their branch on the family tree with something approaching relief, I gave consideration to laying just one more egg. Several months of discussions peppered with doubt and disbelief followed. Although Rog and I made the final decision, there's no denying that a big part of our decision to have a third child began with the insistence of our adolescent children that we "needed a baby in the house." Rog and I took a deep breath, looked at each other across the blond heads of those two wishful children, swallowed – and made a giant leap of faith.

I conceived my Spirit Baby a week later. Just for the joy of it.

[Beth]

26.

I thought of you last night during the debate. I'm sure you know when. It's unbelievable to me that there isn't more in the media this morning about McCain's callous words.

[bobbi]

27.

I'm not sure where to start...I've been reading infertility blogs for years and years, but in no way have I ever been considered infertile. I have 4 children...but all of your stories are so powerful. And reading them has forever changed me.

I had a miscarriage between my first and second, followed by a D&C. Nothing can describe the gutted emptiness I felt for a long time after that. I still wonder about the baby that might have been....

But now, courtesy of Dana's son (so wise!), I can look at my oldest son and know that he is my spirit baby. I can't tell you how much your comment moved me.

Thinking of you today, Cec, and all the mom's of spirit babies...

[Slim]

28.

If I hadn't had a miscarriage earlier this year, I'd have a brand-new baby now. It wasn't a planned pregnancy, I know my eggs suck, the miscarriage came early on, I have wonderful children already, and still I keep bursting into tears. I wanted that baby.

[alyssa]

29.

i'd hazard a guess that thousands of us thought of you last night, at that same moment, and wanted to kill him with our bare hands.

you're in my thoughts today.

[Helen]

30.

I am lucky to not know child loss in my immediate circle. I had a chemical pregnancy years ago, and it never felt real or particularly bothered me. It would have been a lousy, lousy time to have a child, and I admit I felt relieved. But maybe that spirit baby became my daughter. I only have one "child" line on my hand, if you believe that business. It took a long time to get her here, but she sure is worth it.

I have nothing but compassion for anyone who has ever lost a child or made the decision to terminate a pregnancy. Even though I don't "know" you, you were the person I immediately thought of during McCain's remarks last night. I was revolted down to my toes, for you, for my daughter, and for all women, and my only consolation was imagining a network of other women who were similarly scandalized. How can he be all for Americans bucking up and making their own decisions and taking the choice of their healthcare plans into their own hands, but then turn around and not trust women and their doctors to make the best decisions in a heartbreaking, life-threatening situation?

[Sarah]

31.

I will never ever forget what you and Charlie went through or Nicolas and Zachary. Obviously.

I am so proud to know you and know that last night while watching McCain make LIGHT of a WOMAN'S HEALTH, there were hundreds of readers thinking about YOU.

You've changed minds where so many have tried and failed by being open and honest and keeping the forum available for discussion. As angry and upset as you've been, you didn't lash out (much).

You are a hero as far as I'm concerned, and the legacy Nicolas and Zachary leave is one of grace, understanding, communication, and love.

[elayne]

32.

As touching as the "Spirit Baby" notion is (even for someone like me, who's never experienced a loss), I have to wonder if the idea doesn't... diminish the grief and loss felt by parents (and others). Like, "okay, you had another baby now, and it's actually the baby that you thought you lost, so you have no reason to feel sad about that 'loss' anymore! Yay! Be happy! Stop grieving!"

And of course, it sort of crumbles in the face of situations like Cecily's, where the loss was demonstrably not "recycled" (crude word, I'm sorry) as the subsequent birth (twin boys, single girl).

It's sweet and might be a soothing balm to some, but... if it were me, I'd think twice before I forwarded it on to someone, thinking it would help. It might come across as trivializing their pain: "Just get pregnant again and that'll even everything out!"

All of you are in my thoughts today... and always.

[elayne]

33.

Um... I don't mean that comment to sound as critical as it might have come out.

I just cringe at the thought of someone grieving, receiving that from a well-meaning friend who thinks and hopes it'll help, and taking away the impression that it's saying if she just gets pregnant again it'll all go away. I hope no one takes my comment as condemnatory or snarky.

[Chickenpig]

34.

Please forgive me for any pain I caused you by mentioning my twin boys. They will be 3 at the end of November, and when I see them running and playing I think of you and your loss.

As you know I lost an embryo? fetus? at around 8 weeks. I actually went through my second fresh IVF cycle right around now..I think it was October 10th. By Thanksgiving it was gone. I never really grieved. I was sad, naturally, but more because it had taken so long to finally conceive that would-be-baby that I thought I would never be able to get pregnant again. That despair and total death of all hope, and that total emptiness which made my little family of my husband and myself seem empty and futile...that's what I remember. It robbed me of joy when I was able to conceive with our remaining frozen embryos. I was just filled with fear. All that pain...and I hadn't even gone long enough to hear a heartbeat, let alone feel movement. I can only imagine how much worse it can be. Even now, with not one, or two, but THREE living, breathing children, the memory of that fear and pain still hangs around.

Tori is totally amazing. It took amazing courage and strength for you to take that leap and try again. I hope you realize that. I only tried again because I had two frozen embryos lying around, and my husband wanted just one more chance. I was more afraid that it WOULD work than it wouldn't. The wonderful things that infertility and pregnancy loss do to a person. If only McCain and Palin could walk 1/4 mile in your shoes.....

[ginevra]

35.

...

[Alison S]

36.

I agree with elayne: I don't find the spirit baby concept very helpful, I'm afraid. I have two healthy daughters who are now 14 (gulp) and 10. I thought I was done; then I got pregnant when the younger was 8 and I was 41. I was (mostly) delighted. I lost it at 11 weeks; and tried again; and lost the next one at 8 weeks; and tried again; and lost the next one at 6 weeks. By then I was nearly 43, and I decided that I could not put myself through this again. When I got pregnant for the 5th time, I thought that it ought, if there was any order in the universe, to be "third time lucky". But sometimes there is no order, or justice, or fairness, in the universe.
I would not for a nanosecond compare my losses - all natural miscarriages at home - with your tragedy, Cecily. But there isn't a day when I don't think about how our lives would have been different if one of them had stuck around; and I still find it very hard to look at families of three with a big age gap to the third. To have two healthy children is a great gift, but all of us still think about what we lost. And for some of us, we just have to make a decision that putting our faith in the universe is not going to be that sensible a thing to do. If I have one, or two, or three, spirit babies out there, I won't be meeting them this side of eternity, and I'm still sad about that.
Hetty Fauxvert wrote that she doesn't know anyone who's even suffered a miscarriage. With respect, I bet she does: when I told people about mine, it was like joining a secret society: huge numbers of my friends told me sad stories from their past which they had kept in their hearts for years: one who'd had seven miscarriages and one child: one with an awful D and C, one with a termination because her baby had no face: it went on and on. Losing an embryo or fetus is incredibly common, and people are glad to talk about it if they get the chance, I found, but most of the time that grief is hidden and secret, and so everyone feels more lonely than they need. All these situations are sad, and we all do the best we can to cope. The last thing anyone needs is politicians moralising about it (not that they do much of that in the UK, thank God).

[Amy]

37.

I lost my sweet boys, Nick and Jack, at 22 weeks on March 9, 2006. I still miss them each and everyday. I often think of what it would be like to hold their hands as we cross the street, covering their beautiful heads with hats as the weather gets colder, all of those small things that I now do with my 2 1/2 year old. Things that I really revel in and treasure.
I think I am finally managing to find peace in my loss. I am so grateful for my son and know that he would not be here were it not for that loss. Also, I would not be the person I am today were it not for my loss. I think that I am more forgiving, less likely to dwell on the less important things, and more retrospective. Also, my marriage is stronger. I would not trade my time being pregnant with my boys for anything. I am so grateful to have spent 22 weeks joyful for their presence and relishing in every move and every heart dropping--oh my gosh twins!--moment.

[melissa]

38.

We had what most people thought was a perfect family...one boy, one girl. They brought us joy every day. But, I always knew that I wanted three. I don't know why, I just did. My husband would have had four or even five, but he was also happy with the idea of three.

We were in Disneyworld during what turned out to be my "two week wait". I was so exhausted, but I chalked it up to keeping up with a 5 year old and a three year old at Disney. Then, I wanted a milkshake. A chocolate one. NOW. I didn't care that we had to walk all the way across the park to get it. It was then that I realized...hmm. When we were waiting to board our plane to come home, I did some last minute shopping (because I didn't spend enough money in the park!) My daughter was looking at a display of personalized necklaces and bracelets. Something dropped to the floor. I bent down to pick up what ever it was and I was looking at a necklace that said "Sydney". I already knew that was going to be our last baby's name if we had a girl. I told my husband as we boarded the plane. We were sure it was a sign.

As soon as we got home, I peed on the stick, and it was positive! We were so excited! I figured my due date to be December 10. The next couple of weeks went by as they do when you have two small kids, friends, family, etc. We hadn't told anyone our news as I was only about six weeks. I hadn't even had a checkup yet. The Monday of my 7th week I started to have some brownish staining. Dr. Google gave me many reasons why this could be happening, I tried not to worry, but I did. The staining continued all day and Tuesday. My OB sent me to the lab on Wednesday to get a beta. At this time, the pain started on my right side. It varied between a dull ache and a sharp stitch...it did not let up. On Thursday the staining continued and the pain worsened. I told my mother, "I'm pregnant, but I think I'm losing her."...and I started to cry. Saying it out loud made it real. Up until then, I pretended all would be fine. My beta was ok, not great, but ok. The OB said go back on Friday for another blood draw so we could see if the numbers are going up or down.

On Thursday night, I was in such pain that I couldn't sleep. I walked around the house, watched tv, read, walked around the house some more. At 6:00 am the pain was so bad, I called my doc's service. She called right back, asked me some questions and set up an ultrasound for 8 am. It was Good Friday, so my husband was able to stay home with the kids...I went to the lab for the blood draw and then for the ultrasound. I was in so much pain at this point that touching any part of my abdomen hurt. She had to to the sonogram transvaginally. As soon as the screen turned on, I knew something was very wrong...there was nothing in my uterus. The tech didn't know what to say...other than "I'm sorry". I thought..OK, I'm miscarrying. I went right home and started to make some soup when the phone rang. It was my doc. "Have you eaten anything?", she asked. I told her that I had not. She directed me to go straight to the hospital where she was. My numbers went up, but the ultrasound shows nothing in my uterus. "I'm concerned about an ectopic pregnancy". We brought the kids to my mom's house. She was crying. She said, "You know what is going to happen, right?" I just nodded, even though, I really didn't.

I was rushed through the ER faster than people who were obviously very badly wounded. It was determined that the embryo was in my right tube, it was too risky to use drugs to expel it at this point, so surgery was my only option. I was wheeled in and put to sleep, knowing when I woke up I would not be pregnant anymore. I silently said goodbye to my baby. A few hours later, the procedure was complete. Along with my baby, I lost my tube and my ovary. They said another couple of hours and it may have burst.

I didn't cry until the next day, Holy Saturday. My mom came to pick me up from the hospital. We had tickets for the circus, I told my husband to take the kids. They were confused as to where I was...this would be a good distraction. A social worker had come to check on me and he asked some basic question and then, "Was this pregnancy planned?" I thought about the milkshake in Disney, the necklace, the pregnancy test...and started to cry. The next day was Easter. I thought about Jesus rising to Heaven and our baby following him.

My doctor thought we would be able to conceive again, but I was skeptical. She said wait 3 months. We did. In late August, we conceived our fourth child. Her name is Sydney.

Thanks for letting us post here. I never wrote all of that out like that. This happened 2 years ago. Even though I have so much to be thankful for...I still feel the loss.

[Gwen]

39.

Like others, I was thinking of you last night, Cec, when McCain was so abominably cavalier and hurtful, and imagining how horrible it must be for you to hear him say those things. I'm sorry, too, for your loss, and for the way the politics around it keeps throwing it back at you in the ugliest ways.

[Shelley]

40.

I have one beautiful daughter who turns 5 in about a week. After her, two years later, I had one chromosomally perfect missed m/c, another girl, at 12 weeks; a year later, one missed m/c with a fatal chromosomal defect, a boy, also discovered at 12 weeks. So, two completely unrelated cases of my being in the 5% or whatever it is for miscarriages after a strong heartbeat is heard.

I turn 40 in January, and I've chosen to get off the reproductive merry-go-round -- I just can't stand it anymore, and I'm so grateful for my daughter. But there are times I miss the 3-year-old or the 4-month-old I should have, and times when I wonder if I've made the right decision.

Thanks for creating a space to remember, Cecily.

[Sarah]

41.

I'm actully glad I didn't know that yesterday was the infant loss day--it was my birthday, and that would have been a bit hard. But I miss my little sparky. He(I always think of sparky as a he), would have been close to 25 weeks gestation now. I'd have looked all round and pregnant, and who knows what a else. He may be my only genetic child ever, and I have to remember that I am a motehr, but my arms are empty, and that is damn hard.

[Spacemom]

42.

Really? There's a day for this?
Everytime I look at my hand and see the scar from the IV on the day I had a D&E I think about my little one.

[Jenn (dish)]

43.

I have been quite fortunate to have had two pregnancies and two children (yeah, I had infertility mixed in, but who's counting...)

And I recall the punch in the gut I felt when I first learned about your loss, Cecily. I was pregnant with my son and you had been about six weeks ahead of me. The rest of my pregnancy I walked around in a panic, sure that I would be next.

A friend of mine was only able to have children through adoption, and she and her husband were placed with the most beautiful little baby boy about a year and a half ago. When he was 9 months old, he died suddenly from an undetected, but serious, medical condition (no average pediatrician's visit would have caught the problem--he was well cared for). The kicker to their long wait to be parents and the sudden loss of this much wanted child was that the finalization hearing had not yet happened. So, these distraught parents had to now get a court order to bury their son, because he was still, legally, not theirs. Thankfully it was handled quickly and they could focus on grieving their loss with friends and family. They are currently waiting for another placement but will never forget their son, B. Loss hits hard for all parents, regardless of how they got there. My heart goes out to all of you.

[Elena]

44.

I have been fortunate enough to know four courageous women who have lost babies to still birth or infant loss. Two in particular inspired and influenced me greatly.

My friend Susan discovered at around 20 weeks that the baby she was carrying had trisomy 18 and would probably never live past the age of one year. Susan was determined to give her little girl the best shot at life as she could. While her baby was still inside her Susan, as a nurse, was attentive to fetal heart tones and fetal movement and was quick to switch her positions to keep her baby alive.

Because her baby girl would not have survived a vaginal birth, Susan found a doctor who was willing to perform a Cesarean. Her daughter was born alive and they held her and loved her for 10 hours in the hospital, but she did not die. They were able to take her home, love her, and care for her for three months. During that time she was baptized, had birthday parties and was even in a family portrait. When she finally passed it was peacefully at home with her family.

Her funeral was huge. People from all over the community, who had prayed and brought over food, and did other things for this family, came together to celebrate the short life of this precious little girl.

I have another friend who received a similar diagnosis. Her baby girl had a very unusual heart anomaly and she too was advised to abort. But Jean carried her baby to term and was able to have her for a little more than 2 years before she finally died of an infection after heart surgery. Her story is in the side bar on my blog.

My own son was still born at 23 weeks and his birthday is November 1. We still celebrate his very short life and the lessons we learned from him. His story too is on my side bar.

[Clover]

45.

Like others have said, I was thinking of you last night. Man am I pissed off.

[Rbelle]

46.

Elayne, I *half* agree with you about the spirit baby story. On the one hand, I don't think I would ever send it to anyone I knew who'd just suffered a loss, or even someone who'd suffered a loss some time ago but who I didn't know well. It does seem like small comfort - and a little bit like one of those platitudes that drive greiving people so crazy and can hurt more than they help.

That said, my mom had two miscarriages before I was born. After I was born, with three girls, she and my dad were DONE until my "happy accident" brother came along. My mom has obviously never forgotten her miscarriages, but she's also sort of thought of them in "spirit baby" terms. She tells me I was just "determined" to be born, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here if she hadn't had those losses. I think she'd really love the story, just because it's sort of how she already felt. I don't know if I believe that kind of thing myself, but I'm glad my mom has something that makes those losses sting less, so many years later.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for everybody's losses - I don't have any kids yet, so I'm not sure why I read so many infertility/parenting blogs, but I love hearing people's stories, even when they're so very sad.

[Suzanne]

47.

I can't imagine what you went through. My deepest sympathy.

My story of loss is simple. I got married late (almost 43), miraculously got pregnant within 4 months, the baby stopped growing at probably 6 or 7 weeks, but I didn't miscarry until about 11 weeks. I felt at the time I had lost my only chance to ever be a mom. It was really devastating, although I'm sure it doesn't compare to most stories here. Fast-forward a year, and we brough our son home from Guatemala at 5 months old.
Suzanne

[Libby]

48.

I am so sorry about your babies, I clearly remember the shock I felt when I read about it. It's just so tragic.

I had a chemical pregnancy in January of 07 after trying for our second child for over a year. I was completely blindsided by it and I'll never forget the emptiness I felt when we looked at the ultrasound screen and there was nothing there. I also felt stupid for feeling so sad about it since it was so early on. But I could not help it. We wanted that baby.

We did not tell anyone. Until very recently when I felt an inexplicable urge to let it be known. So strange.

I am now 32 weeks pregnant with a girl. I am so happy but I can't forget my other baby. I never will.

I missed the debate last night. I've got to watch it to see what everybody is talking about!

[nancy]

49.

i just want to send you a big hug
thinking of all of you
xo

[Essie]

50.

My thoughts are with you

[elayne]

51.

Rbelle: "I think she'd really love the story, just because it's sort of how she already felt."

Yeah. That's what I mean, right there.

For some people, it's going to be therapeutic, reassuring, healing, encouraging, uplifting... for others, it's not going to be any of those things, and might even be several very unpleasant things.

(And for some people, like me - probably because I can't relate to it as anything other than a story - it'll be both: sweet and touching, AND somewhat dismissive of the earlier loss.)

To a large extent, it's doing to depend on that person's very deepest feelings, which most people might not be privy to. I posted because I could sort of envision... you know, someone reading it, feeling uplifted and encouraged by it, and sending it on to all the women on their blogroll who've also lost children with all good intentions, in the hopes that it will, as you said, "make it sting less" for the others as it did for her... but inadvertently causing some of those women some unpleasantness.

[Courtney]

52.

I can't even imagine that kind of pain. I feel for you. :(

[cindy]

53.

I found out I was pregnant (after thinking I couldn't get pregnant on my own) the day before last New Year's Eve. I had an ultrasound at 5 weeks and saw a heartbeat then. Because I carried twins to 36 weeks in my previous pregnancy, my uterus expanded like nobody's business. I was showing big-time and wearing maternity clothes at 8 weeks. That's around the time I had my first pre-natal appointment, where the nurse practitioner couldn't find a heartbeat. No big deal, it's hard to find a heartbeat with the Doppler that early. My next appointment was supposed to be Feb. 14, and my husband was going to come with me so we could hear the heartbeat together for the first time on Valentine's Day (how romantic!).

On Feb. 11, I started experiencing bleeding, which stopped the next day. Still, they brought me in for an ultrasound on the 12th, which showed that the baby had died about 3 weeks previously. It might have been dead when the nurse couldn't find the heartbeat at 8 weeks. I'll never know. I waited to see if my body was going to miscarry on its own, but the bleeding never came back. I decided to keep my original Feb. 14 appointment and, because of work/daycare scheduling, had a D&C that day. It was one of the worst days of my life, though I was relieved to have it over and have a chance to say goodbye.

It was several months before I could get through a day without breaking down sobbing. I'll never have a regular, romantic Valentine's Day again. New Year's Eve and Valentine's Day will be tinged with loss for me from now on.

[kathleen999]

54.

I always think about how you and I are living opposite mommy lives...me with Nick and Zack and you with Tori.

Like you, it hurts me to see little girls on the playground. I had built up so many dreams about having our first baby...the miscarriage was devastating. I had told everyone. I was 41 and I was thrilled. then I had to untell and I grieved and grieved. Finding out that she was a little girl made it even harder for some reason.

My husband cried too but eventually told me to get over it. I couldn't. I still really haven't to some degree. But my boys help me like Tori helps you. But you still can't quite ever forget. And knowing that we will never have a little girl makes it harder. I really wanted her. I will never have that relationship with a daughter. That is something I find very hard to give up, because my mom is so important to me. I wanted that relationship with my own daughter.

The thing is, whatever you get is what you deal with. 3 is hard with twins. 3 might be hard with Tori. But we'll all get through it. And thank God for the kids we do have. I really do thank God for them every day. And when I look at my boys, I do believe they are perfect and I am blessed.

[SarahA]

55.

Cecily, count me among those who thought immediately of you last night when McCain was making a jackass of himself.

I read through all these comments and in these stories I find so many similarities to my own. Yeah, the scars do get tougher. And they fade. But they don't get any prettier either.

Someone mentioned that losing a pregnancy or a child was like joining a secret club you never wanted to be a part of. I often feel that way. But I am honored to be in the company of such a strong and compassionate group of women.

[zarqa]

56.

I lost my boy on Sept 21, 2004. It was in the throes of desperate reaching out and trying to look for answers, community, anything, that I found your blog just as you were losing your boys.

I remember I did vote that year and I also remember being angry at the outcome, but then ultimately numb to it, it became just something else to add to the fog of the shittiest autumn of my life.

I think of you every single time the words "late term abortion" come up. And when McCain commented that the "health of the mother" clause is being abused by some, I shouted at the TV and during a break turned to my husband and shared your story with him for the upteenth time.

Although I'm glad there is a day of remembrance, I don't really need it, you know? My loss, your loss, all the losses before then & since then, they're all a part of my biology now. I can't really forget, ever.

[Beret]

57.

A year and a half ago an aquaintance of mine put her 18 month old son down for a nap. She went into his room 2 hours later and he was dead. No one knows why. My son was the same age, and now he's 3. Whenever we see their family I feel guilty. I feel like they look at my healthy beautiful son and think of what might have been.

There hasn't been a day since this happened that I haven't thought of that little boy. I would love to know what to say to this mother, but I feel so akward around her. I feel helpless.

[Karen]

58.

hi - I came her by way of momocrats to your post on McCain & just wanted to say I was almost remembering a pregnancy loss on this day - with an anniversary quite close as well. I'm glad you wrote what you did about the republican candidate's hateful words - because they were hateful & we need to at least be honest about that - hateful & striking at women who experience a lot of pain & sadness.
I'm glad you are healing well.

59.

I hope this doesn't offend anyone, but I had an abortion 5 years ago this fall. I think about that child every year, though less and less. It is still a loss to me, and I'm saddened by it and glad to remember in your presence.

[A mom.]

60.

My daughter would have been 9 years old on the 29th.

She died at 5 months old. She was cutting her first tooth and had began to roll over. I remember her last smile-- she was drooling and trying to suck my chin. She shreaked this huge laugh she had.

A few days later she went into cardiac arrest in the back of my station wagon while we were on our way to the Pediatricians office.

There is not a moment that goes by that I don't miss my miracle baby. I'm a better person because of her. I smile and am happy and am a good mom to my two boys. You don't get over it, but you do get used to the pain. I'll never be the same.

Damn, I miss her.

[Kristen]

61.

I am new to your blog and just wanted to give you(((HUGS))). I can't imagine how hard this time is for you as you commemmorate your boys but celebrate the life of your daughter. You write so well and you are truly inspiring.

I TTC my son for 2.5 years. I had a loss in August 2005 around 5 weeks gestation while my SIL became pregnant with #2 in the same week and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl in May 2006. No one, not even my DH understood my pain and why I couldn't be happy for the arrival of our new family member. I sank into a mild depression and my panic disorder was in full swing. I began seeing an RE and was dx with ovulatory dysfunction. I started Clomid and on our second round, we suffered another loss in July 2007 at 11.5 weeks gestation. I was about to give up having a biological child of my own and was thinking about adoption before I became pregnant for the third time. Despite all odds, I gave birth to my miracle in July this year.

And while I finally have what I've dreamed of always, I never forget the two babies I lost. I often wonder how life would be if I had a 3-year old or if I had a 21-month old. And while I love my life and wouldn't trade my son for the world, I still feel pain from the scars of infertility and loss.

XOXO

[Jen]

62.

So many of us feel broken like this, and usually so alone, since no one talks about it... We aren't alone though.
http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=411574358&blogID=442011595

[margie]

63.

I've been pregnant five times, and have two healthy children. It still freaks me out when I think of that. It feels weird to say that... I feel as though I should be a Mom of five healthy kids.

[Ann of the Incredible Gift]

64.

I am having one of those moments where I am not sure what to say, but if I don't make the attempt now, I probably won't try again. Ever have one of those? Sorry.

My oldest daughter died July 14th of this year, and I am trying to cope with that. She was born with Down Syndrome and a heart defect that was never repaired. In spite of a pediatrician who said she would probably die before she was two, and if she reached two would almost certainly die by the time she was ten, we took her home, loved her and gave her three sisters. She reached the age of thirty seven.

I very seldom talk about the other two pregnancies; one ended spontaneously and the other, ectopic, ended with methotrexate.

[Anon]

65.

Cec, forgive me for signing anon, but you'll know who it is from the email address. I have no idea why your post inspired me tonight to post this, when no one knows about it but my ex. But...

I knew long ago that I did not want to be a mother. There were, and are, a lot of reasons. I liked, and like, my life as it is, respect others' choice or desire to have kids, think it's the biggest, hardest, most important job anyone will ever have, but didn't want or need it for myself and have always been thoroughly cool with that. I mean, the point is, today, we have the choice, right?

After migraines showed up and got acute, my gp took me off the pill. My husband and I used condoms. Despite being careful, one day, before I even really knew that I was pregnant (about 2.5 months in), I had a miscarriage. The fact that I lost him or her as I found out about him or her made it...surreal. I still don't know how to feel about it.

Even though, then as now, I know not having kids was right for me, I often think about that maybe baby, about how different my life might be, and about the loss of something I didn't even think I wanted. I just didn't know there was an official day for it.

I hope this isn't offensive to those of you who have and do want babies so badly, and my every good wish goes out to each of you. Thanks for a place to remember, and my thoughts are with you and Charlie.