... I will praise your name for ever and ever. [Psalm 145:1]

I know that Psalm 145:1 is praising the Lord, but in a way, it fits this post as I will praise the name of my child as well.  I've never called our baby anything but our angel on this blog, as somehow, despite sharing so much here, I wanted to 'save' a little bit of our child for us, and only us.  At home, we speak of our angel freely and it's nice to hear the name resonate and remind me that this child WAS here, he was real!  But now, I realize that I'd like to share some photos that dear friends have sent and I'd like to speak freely about our child, instead of masking or hiding the identity behind 'angel', 'baby', 'child', when in truth, our sweet baby DID have a name ~

**S*a*m*m*y**

We chose "Sam" as that was a neutral, unisex name [although my heart tells me it was a boy], but we speak of Sammy often.  Sadly, our family barely recognizes the name and if we do use it in their presence, there is often an initial look of confusion before it sinks in as to who Sammy was.  So, my dear friends, our sweet baby Sammy will be in our hearts forever.

Aug. 15th was the one year anniversary of Sammy's death.  That was also the day of our first ultrasound with Baby #2 and I blogged about it here.  That night, I woke up in the middle of the night in that groggy state that we all know too well, and I saw a small, childlike figure hovering over the corner of our bed.  Instead of being afraid, my first thought was that it was Sammy coming for a visit and watching over us.  This was so comforting for me, as I had never dreamt of Sammy, despite praying for that for a year now.  It was so fitting so see Sammy on this special day.

A few days later, I went to mass - I had reserved a service for Sammy's anniversary, but due to scheduling conflicts it was scheduled a few days later and at 7:30am!!  That particular morning I had gotten up to get ready for church, but the nausea wave hit me pretty bad and I started dry-heaving as I was washing my teeth [I know, yuck!].  I ran back to the bed, gasping to catch a breath, lay down and reached for the saltines.  I ended up staying there for a while, which in turn made me late for church and I felt like a horrible mom - late for my baby's service!  After mass, I sat in a pew in front of a painting of Mary and baby Jesus and prayed the Rosary for Sammy.  I was thinking of how things might have been different, why did this have to happen, why us...you know those nagging thoughts.  Suddenly, a thought, clear as ever popped into my head

"I sent him to you because I knew you'd love him."

This thought came in my own inner voice, but I knew this was not my thought.  I knew instantly that I had just heard the voice of God, possibly for the first time, whispering in my ear.  Of course, that made perfect sense!  Why had I not ever considered that option?  Of course Sammy was sent to us because God knew that we would love him with all our hearts and would never forget our first child - it was so clear that Sammy was never destined to be with us here on earth, but God wanted Sammy to be loved by his parents.  It made me think of all those babies that are aborted around the globe, with no one to love or miss them - and it made me a little glad that God had wanted Sammy to know this type of love and that Sammy was chosen specifically for US.  That thought '...because I knew you'd love him' keeps echoing in my head and it give me some peace.

I'm sharing a few photos of how Sammy is always with us...

These two photos were sent to me from a dear friend who was part of my Bible Study class ~ she was kind enough to remember Sammy on her vacation and I think that these are gorgeous!!

The following photos were taken by us at Rehoboth  Beach, Delaware, during our vacation earlier in August.  I should have taken the shots the other way towards the water, but the waves were so big and kept coming in that I had to hurry.  So you see a bit of my head shadow...

...and then I took the closeup of Sammy's name, and it was immediately washed away by an incoming wave and strangely I thought it was almost appropriate that Sammy was here but for a moment, before disappearing from our lives...but we know he was here and now I know why....

This should have been my due date

From: http://lightworkers.org/blog/126446/two-new-babies-born-heaven

Today, I wrote a letter to my child, on the day of his/her birth.  Somehow, I thought that **** would have been a boy, not sure why, but just a feeling.  A baby that had been prayed for, for a long time, a baby that was so desperately wanted.  I told * how much he was loved and missed each day and I pray that my words reach him via angels' wings - but for me, I just have another letter to put in *'s memory box.


Today should have been a day of happiness and laughter.  We should have been anxiously awaiting *'s birth.  I should have been able to hear * cry for the very first time, get to see his scrunched up little face and feel him in our arms, between our embrace.  Instead, it's three o'clock and I'm still in my PJ's, resting on the couch on this rainy and miserable March day, wiping away my tears.  Our home should have been bustling with activity and the cooing sounds of a baby, but the silence is deafening and it seems lonelier than most days.

From: www.beautyofthelord.com/a_letter_from_heaven.htm

I had hoped to make it out to the cemetery to lay some flowers at Our Mother's feet, but I'm achy today and the rain is making me stay home - Perhaps I'll make it out there tomorrow.  After all, it's not like * is actually there - he's at God's feet, surrounded by angels, his tiny little earthly body probably making it out to the lake or ocean, being one with God's nature.  I hope to drop a flower wreath into our river on his angelversary, but for today, we'll just remember our child, we'll have the small cake that I made for his Birthday, and we'll send our love and our hearts to him in heaven.


Last night, while we were at Ash Wednesday Mass, we sang the hymn Ashes, which I had never heard before.  Some of the lyrics were so profound that I had tears in my eyes, as I thought about the symbolism of the ashes and my own grief for *, I've highlighted the poignant parts:



We rise again from ashes,
from the good we've failed to do.
We rise again from ashes,
to create ourselves anew.
If all our world is ashes,
then must our lives be true,
An offering of ashes,
An offering to You.
          We offer You our failures,
          we offer You attempts;
          The gifts not fully given,
          the dreams not fully dreamt.
          Give our stumblings direction,
          give our visions wider view,
          An offering of ashes,
          An offering to You.
Then rise again from ashes,
let healing come to pain;
Though spring has turned to winter,
and sunshine turned to rain.
The rain we'll use for growing,
and create the world anew,
From an offering of ashes,
An offering to You.
          ... Thanks be to the Father,
          who made us like Himself.
          ... Thanks be to His Son,
          who saved us by His death.
          ... Thanks be to the Spirit,
          who creates the world anew,
          From an offering of ashes,
          An offering to You.

From: http://www.1freechurch.org/Forms/child-dedication.htm

I visited the page for I Spoke With My Child - it's been a while since I'd been there.  I imagined that this was a conversation I could have with *.  I broke down again.  All the pain of the last months, all that missing, all that loneliness and all the love flooded over me and I cried again with unending tears.  You will always be loved and missed...never forgotten.

Today, Lent begins

From: http://between2cities.wordpress.com/2010/02/17/ash-wednesday/

Today is Ash Wednesday, which for a Catholic like me, is the beginning of the Lenten season, the approximately 40 days prior to Easter when we reflect on the last days of our Lord, Jesus Christ.  Traditionally, this is a very sad time, with no loud parties, no dancing, no drinking. Although we don't have to attend mass service tonight, I'm looking forward to going, listening to the priest give a homily which is meant to introduce us to the Lenten Season, and receive ashes, which traditionally used to be from burned palms from Palm Sunday.  The priest uses the phrase from Ecclesiastes "You are from dust and to dust you shall return".  It's just a reminder of how fleeting life really is and tonight will serve as the mass for my unborn child, whose due date would have been tomorrow.


Ash Wednesday, in our family, was the start of many days of fasting.  Our parish bulletin included the following explanation "Fasting means eating only one full meal with our other two meals not equal to that one meal. While making us more aware of those in need, fasting also makes us more alert in our prayer. A generous heart allows us to think less of our needs and more of the needs of others, resulting in practical action and giving".  As a child, I remember fasting and what a challenge it was - these days, it's no big deal for me to skip lunch and just have a normal dinner.  Growing up, I remember that meatless Fridays extended year round, as we always tried to skip the meat at the end of the week, which was not only religious, but also pretty healthy and our hearts thank us!

From:  http://www.dpcdsb.org/BSCAL

This Lent, I plan to not only fast, give and pray, but also to make it a spiritual journey for exploring my relationship with God.  I hope that I can remain steadfast in my attempt to be kind to others, do my best to see their point of view, read the scripture daily (you might recall I had tried that at the start of the New Year, and when troubles came at the end of January, this habit dropped by the wayside), abstain from swearing at home (as I never do in public) and limit my sweet intake.  I say 'limit', as I won't be able to give up sweets completely as I made a little cake for our angel's birthday tomorrow, and there will be sweets at Freddie's birthday on Sunday, then my mom's birthday in April, so I won't be antisocial.  But I give up sweets each year and am able to do it.  This year, being kind to others and reading the Bible are the most important things for me.  To delve further into my own faith, attend Lamentations or Stations of the Cross and perhaps even try to do this weekly.  I know that that will be a struggle, but Christ suffered and struggled so much for us, that I'd like to do a little in return.


Tonight, as I attend mass at the Cathedral, I will think about the journey ahead of Christ, which will end in His crucifixion and death - I will think about what Christ must have felt at the impending path ahead - I will think of what God felt to know that His child would die, and I feel that I understand those feelings much more than before.  I have a much better appreciation of God's love for us now, knowing how much pain it cost Him to lose His only son.  I know that pain too.  As the priest puts ashes on my forehead tonight, I'll feel closer to those who have gone before me and allowed me to be a Christian openly - those early Christians who often paid with their lives for our religious freedom, for those family members who are now dust, and of course of our child.  The shining light at the end of this journey is Easter and the celebration of Christ's resurrection - a constant reminder that death is not permanent, that there is life beyond death and that we will all be with God someday.  This has brought me a lot of peace lately and decreased my fear and anxiety about death.  Death was something to be feared and avoided, but now I see it as an opportunity to be with my child once again, to see this child and get to know him/her - to finally be together, to finally be complete.


So as we embark on this approximately 40 day journey - what are your plans?

Confession Time

I went to confession today.  I admit that I don't go often, but I make a point of going at least twice a year.  If I did go more often, I think that would definitely strengthen my relationship with God, but I also feel that I talk to Him daily not only in prayer, but also in conversation.


The church was quiet, except for the sound of Christmas carols in the background.  There were two priests available all day, sitting in full view, on either side of the altar.  Now, quite often, this strikes the "Fear of God", literally, into most Catholics walking into church for reconciliation, but knowing that I had nothing embarrassing to confess, I was not daunted.


One of my favourite priests, Father Jim was free, so I kneeled down and prayed for a moment and thought about what I would say (bonus: no lineup!!).  He smiled as I approached.  It took me a moment to get organized as I had to put my purse down on the floor as I kneeled on the kneeler, and of course I had to place my cane down as well...yes, you read correctly, I am using a cane to get around.  Some days I can make it on my own, but often my balance is off and I need it for stability - then there are days like today where I just hurt and I need it to get around.  I also know that as the day progresses, I need the cane more and more, and I had planned on going to Costco afterwards as well, so preparation is key.  But I digress...


I confessed from being a hard-ass at work sometimes.  I know that although I try to be inclusive of my team, sometimes I need to lay down the law and I know that in the spring I had a temporary employee who was just "not all there" and so I had to ask for things 3 or 4 times and eventually I came to dislike her and I know that I was less than pleasant at times - I regret that.  I told Father Jim that Freddie and I had lost a baby over the summer and before I knew it, the tears were streaming down my face.  
I could barely whisper that I was angry, so angry all the time.  I confessed that I feel entitled to certain things, like sympathy and care from my family, and when I don't get it, I get angry again.  I confessed that I am lazy in prayer because I don't kneel down at night, instead I crawl into bed, I cuddle up to Freddie and I pray under the covers.  Now don't get me wrong, I DO NOT blame God for our loss, but I do feel lazy about prayer.  I was literally whispering this, as I couldn't even articulate my thoughts between the tears streaming down my face; Father Jim just smiled at me with such love and care and told me that it was OK to be angry and entitled. He reminded me that there is no perfect Christmas, but that it is Christmas regardless of our pain and suffering.  He encouraged me to pray, make a routine out of it, and to offer my pain and suffering to God.  He spoke with me for a long while and I know this because my knees were starting to give out on me.


I am really taking his suggestion to heart.  I'll try to find a quiet spot during the day when I can light a candle, read the Bible a little bit, and reflect on my prayer a bit more.  Hopefully if I publicly state that, I'll follow through - so feel free to ask me how its going.


I ended up staying another 30 minutes at church talking to God. I lit a candle for our angel and I prayed to St. Jude, patron saint of lost causes, begging for the chance to have a baby.  I'm hoping this will be our month...


Have you had difficulty with prayer? If so, how did you overcome it?

Another BFN!!

So I finally feel like I've brought this blog up to date and where I am today.  I will admit that it wasn't easy to go through all these memories and thoughts, and in a way, relive this experience "from a distance".

As you know, this was the first month that I felt "ready" to move on with having a family once again.  Our sweet angel is just that, an angel in heaven at the feet of God, perpetually in God's warmth and light. I know I don't have to worry about our angel as our sweet baby is in the care of God and His angels... but I still can't help but wish that I could hold our baby and have him/her here with us.  I've been praying for our angel's happiness, for good health for our family [as I desperately need it] and for another baby.  I'm starting to feel like its turning into a little bit of an obsession - all I can think about is having a baby, but it was such a long journey the first time, that I'm worried that this is some unattainable dream...

We are trying again, and I'm kind of sad and upset because I'm expecting my third period since our loss any day now...and I don't think we conceived this time again.  It took us so long last time that I'm scared it won't happen for us. My husband is trying to stay positive, but I'm having a tougher time.  I finally feel like I'm finally emotionally "ready" (or as ready as I could be) to move forward, and my body is failing me again.  I'm charting my BBT and observing all the signs, we even purchased PreSeed on the advice of a friend, and I don't think any of it helped.  My cycle had always been a bit irregular and since the miscarriage, I can only go on what happened last month. So based on that, AF should have arrived anytime between this past sunday and today... and so far still no sign of AF. I've taken multiple pregnancy tests and they all come back NEGATIVE, including this morning.  I'm using the internet tests, and I don't even see the faintest of lines, nothing, zip, zilch, zero!!!  I keep hoping and praying, but I just feel so defeated!!  


I can't really talk to anyone about this, as my friends just don't understand.  In the past, they've questioned if we should even have kids, in light of my back problems and requirement to take meds.  I've been questioned on the following:
     -will you be able to take care of a baby?
     -will you be able to carry a baby to term?
     -what if your child inherits your back problems?
     -will your meds affect your baby's development?
     -you won't be able to do "everything" with your child, aren't you depriving them?
     -why don't you just adopt?
I do appreciate their concerns, but sometimes I feel like people don't think we're capable of making this decision.  For the record, Freddie and I had a lot of frank discussions before we got married.  I made it very clear what our life could possibly look like - if I were to end up in a wheelchair (God forbid!), would he stick around with me or with our family?  And the answer was a resounding yes. But I guess the bottom line is that we can't plan life on "what if's".  There will always be "what if's" that are unavoidable.  So here are my answers to the questions above.
     Of course I'll be able to take care of a baby!  As long as I'm careful in how I do things, pace myself and take my time, I should be fine.  We've also considered certain aids that would make my life easier, like a drop down crib. Now before I get lambasted for this dangerous type of crib, in my case, it would be very difficult to lean over a crib to pick up a baby. So as long as its assembled appropriately, I think that this would be of great help to us. I'm fully aware that once we have a toddler on our hands, odds are that Freddie would be the only one lifting our child, but I'm certain that I can show love and cuddles in other ways. Its not all about carrying your child around.
     I know I can carry a baby to term - I've asked!!  As soon as I found out I had this back problem, that was one of my concerns, and I've been assured by multiple physicians, therapists and physiatrists that yes, I can make it through a pregnancy. Apparently, there might be some bed rest involved at the end, but my mom tells me that she was told she'd be on bed rest while pregnant with me (due to her back problems), and that wasn't the case... and that was over 30 years ago!!!
     Inheriting my back problems is certainly a concern, as I would never want to purposefully inflict this type of pain on anyone, especially my child.  I would also hate for him/her to have my "thunder thighs" (I still remember Freddie laughing hysterically the first time he heard me describe them this way, as clearly he didn't see them this way :-)  ), or my need for glasses, or  Freddie's need for glasses, or the history of diabetes on Freddie's side, and the list goes on and on.  The back problems that I have are different than those of my mom, as I clearly didn't inherit her issues, I was blessed with my own.  There is simply no way of knowing what our child may or may not inherit, so we can't let that stop us from starting a family.
     I think that I've mentioned this before, that when we were merely thinking about a baby, we visited an endocrinologist who reviewed all my medications and gave us indications of what was safe or not.  The only concern that exists is the pain medication that I take, as it may cause a mild withdrawal symptom at birth and a possibly lower birth weight.  Several physicians have assured me that these are not major issues and that we are not talking about a crack baby here.  I've read all the available studies out there and the above occurred in dosages that were 2-3 times mine - my current dosage is unlikely to increase that much anytime soon.  I've also read studies where women on a slightly higher dosage than mine had a completely uneventful and normal delivery, with a healthy baby or normal weight, with no withdrawal symptoms whatsoever.  I've also visited a forum for chronic pain where several ladies have stories of healthy babies growing into healthy toddlers and beyond. I've also been assured that there is no evidence of my meds contributing to any physical, developmental or behavioural issues later on.  I really feel like we've done our homework here.
     There is certainly a chance that I won't be able to do "everything" with our child - at the moment, I can't ski, snowboard, rollerblade, etc.  For the record, though, I also can't windsurf, play chess or skydive, as I simply don't know how.  My physical limitations are significant to my daily life and I do need help around the house, but although I can't do some things, I can still do others... and our children would still have a fantastic father who would love to do things with them as well.  
     Adoption - yes, why don't we?  Well, although I'm very open to adoption, I also want to experience having a child of my own.  I want to see Freddie's eyes and my lips looking back at me.  I want to know what that connection with our child is like and I want to know what it's like to have a baby.  We are open to adopting other children, but the reality is that we would probably adopt an older child, as there are very few babies available through the Children's Aid Society.  In order to adopt a baby, we would need to go through a private agency or possibly look internationally - I've looked into it and simply filing the paperwork requires a starting retainer of $10-15,000.  By the time the adoption is complete, we could be looking at $40,000 or more...and who can afford that??


It just seems that there is a challenge at every step of this journey!!  It just seems that everyone is able to achieve this simple task, except me. I know there is still a slight chance this month as AF isn't here yet, but its just not looking likely, and I just feel so sad again.  I was hoping that there might be a glimmer of hope and happiness for Christmas...

Our Loss- warning: this is detailed.

As I mentioned in my previous post, we had been trying for kids for well over a year and finally went to a fertility clinic to see if there was a problem. We went through all the tests, which admittedly were mostly for me, and the day we got our results, we announced to the physician that we were pregnant.  We were so extremely thrilled...but also shocked, as so many times we took the test only to have it be negative.  When we saw the first ultrasound at 6-weeks, it was amazing to see our baby and see that tiny little heart fluttering.  We finally had proof positive that we were really pregnant.  We chose to only tell our parents, not to jinx anything, and we had always heard to keep things to yourself till the end of the first trimester.  Our parents were thrilled beyond belief.  The pregnancy was going fine, with no problems at all. Now, we had really planned this, as prior to getting pregnant, we had seen an endocrinologist and made sure that the meds I was taking were going to be ok for our baby, so my only symptom was nausea and vomitting, but its hard to say whether that was morning sickness or my regular illness associated with my pain meds.

On Sat Aug 14th, I went to the bathroom and had some brownish blood when I wiped...this continued throughout the evening and eventually turned to red blood.  I wasn't too concerned as it was mostly after I peed and wiped, but by 11pm I called Telehealth and the woman on the line insisted that I need to go to emerg within 4 hours.  By about 1:30am it had increased a bit and just to be sure we went to our local emergency room.  After waiting for 3 hours, we were seen by a physician who assured us that everything was fine, probably just some light spotting. He indicated that next time we should really go to the hospital on the other end of town, as the hospital we were at doesn't have Gyne's on staff [which made me wonder why the nurse/clerk at the window didn't tell me that 3 hours ago...we could have gone to the other hospital already and waited there]. He did an abdominal ultrasound, and although he couldn't see anything, he assured as that it might be just too early for an abdominal ultrasound [we had just started our 11th week...we were just days from ending the first trimester...].  We left the hospital and I was confident that all was ok...in fact, I felt really surreal. I really believed that after all the difficulty we had getting pregnant, and with all my medical problems right now, this was the one glimmer of happiness that we had and it wasn't ending.

The bleeding stopped that night, and I spent the entire sunday in bed or on the couch. Mid-day I even had a really bad bought of nausea, so I took a nap, had some food and rested.  My mom came over and we were chatting about staying in bed until next week, when I was scheduled to go see a high-risk OB.  I felt a little trickle, like a period...I went to the bathroom and noticed that the bleeding had started up again.  I was standing in the hallway telling my husband that the bleeding returned when I felt a huge gush - I started bleeding profusely.  By the time we got to the hospital, I was overfilling overnight pads every 30-45minutes. The entire ride was surreal and I kept believing that they could somehow help me.  We got to the hospital and I was admitted immediately - the triage nurse asked me, while I'm sobbing uncontrollably, whether this was a wanted pregnancy. Would it make a difference in my care if it was/wasn't? I remember feeling furious that she was wasting my time with a stupid question like that instead of helping save our baby!!  We were taken back and it took a long time for me to be seen.  Noone explained to me what might happen or what to expect, and looking back, I know, I'm 100% sure, that I passed the entire gestational sac in the bathroom - at the time, I convinced myself that this was another clot. I thought about calling the nurse, but who wants to look at that?  I wish I had called someone, or my husband, I wish I had retrieved my baby, I wish I had the courage to call someone...but my thoughts were fuzzy and the entire things seemed so surreal.  Each time I asked whether there was any chance that this was not a miscarriage, they weren't sure, they didn't know... they didn't do anything for me, they didn't even try!  I've read of using progesterone...or at least fess up and tell me that this is definitely it!  The care we received was ok, but not spectacular.  I was subjected to 5 very painful pelvic exams, and a good friend who is a physician asked why 5...I don't know.  I know that the first exam was done by the ER resident, and he didn't want to do it, but the attending insisted.  The nurse told me this, as she was siding with the resident, explaining that Gyne was on their way down and they would need to do a pelvic anyway.  So looking back, I also question, why so many  exams?  So I could be a great training tool? I felt so extremely violated.  I not only lost our sweet baby, but also had 5 different people poking around in your most private area...  During a shift change, my new nurse proceeded to tell her colleagues about her bubbly 22 month old, while standing 5' away from me. I started to cry again.  None of the physicians or nurses were overly sympathetic - a few residents tried to say the right thing, but there was no sincerity behind it. Only one med student came down to apologize on behalf of the resident, who had used the term "spontaneous abortion" to describe what was happening - I really appreciated his care and concern.  He actually put his hand on my shoulder and spoke to me, not at me.  I know that these people see this all the time, I'm not the first or the last, but a little empathy goes a long way, a few kind words or expressing condolences would be nice.  In retrospect, no one spoke to us about what to expect, how we might feel, or to even ask if we wanted a priest called, which I would have loved. This wasn't treated like a death at all.

A few days later, we went to the Pregnancy Clinic at the hospital and were lucky enough to meet a wonderful physician. He was kind, sympathetic, caring and gentle!  The internal ultrasound he did was not painful for the first time.  I had miscarried naturally, with the use of cytotec, at home.  Taking the meds was emotionally painful, just knowing what their purpose was...  We had a follow up the next week, and this time had the misfortune of meeting someone else, who had us out of there in 4 minutes flat. There was no discussion of next steps, no discussion of when we might try again, nothing. I was told they'll check my blood work and if its at a good level, that's it.  This particular physician was not gentle with me at all, my husband felt that she didn't really want to be there, definitely not anymore than us.  I had hoped that there might be talk of some support, or perhaps mention of a support group, but there was nothing. So we left, stunned and hurt.  I called the Clinic a few days later to get my blood results, as no one had called, and I asked about a support group. She said they had a counsellor I could speak with...that was almost 4 weeks ago.  I'm just frustrated b/c if I had chosen to have an abortion, the medical system would be tripping over itself to help us with counselling etc., instead, we got nothing.  When the counsellor called, 5 weeks later, she informed me that she was unable to help me, as we "didn't lose a child per se" - that hit me like a smack in the face, I just couldn't believe a medical "professional" saying this!

Our parents were devastated, and the rest of the family and close friends kind of shrugged it off. They didn't know we were pregnant, so it wasn't a big deal to them. Do you believe that my 2 brothers in law haven't called, sent a card, nothing? My aunt and cousins supposedly ask my mom about me, but no one bothers to actually send me a condolence card. It just seems like not a big deal to anyone.  I did speak with 2 good friends who also lost their babies, so it was comforting in that respect, but I can't really talk to my extended family as its pretty clear that there is no interest there.

Luckily, I don't have any feelings of guilt..at least not too much, as I did everything as correctly as possible...yes there is a chance that the pill I took before I knew I was pregnant could have been an issue, or the acne cream I used back them....  As I'm currently not working, I really took it easy. My husband did everything: changed the litter box, took out the trash, lifted heavy items, cooked dinners, etc. I simply rested, ate well, went for walks.  I didn't do anything that could have possibly led to this - I just wish I knew why we lost our angel. I don't understand why they can't do some tissue sampling on the placenta to see if there was a genetic abnormality, or what? I'd at least like to know the sex of the baby, but instead, we got absolutely nothing...but I don't understand why they sent tissue to pathology if they won't do any test on it.  If its a money issue, I would have gladly paid for it!

I didn't really want to talk to anyone for weeks on end. I avoided the phone and I didn't go to see friends. I try to get out for a walk each day and do a few small things around the house. I still cry every day. I made a memory box for our baby, we framed the ultrasound and have it hanging in our room, and had a memorial service on our anniversary (it was very private, just us and our parents).  I write a lot, so that helps...but I cry at the drop of a hat and that makes people uncomfortable.  No future baby will ever replace this angel and it actually annoys me how people seem to think I'm making a big deal out of nothing. Most people have expressed that its been over a few months so I should be getting better...but I don't even know where to start to get better. I feel bad for my husband because when he comes home from work, we don't go out, we don't do much...he commented that I don't laugh often enough, so I just feel bad that he comes home to such a sad place.

I'm not angry at God, as I have a very different perspective than most people. I really don't subscribe to the mindset that God controls everything and simply "let" this happen.  We, as people, have free will...but there is also good and evil in the world. God doesn't cause wars or accidents or bad things to happen...instead, He weeps along with us in our suffering.  The loss of our baby was a very sad time and God tried to stop it, just as did we, but sometimes, evil wins and God weeps along with us for our loss.  I do understand more about God's love and what it meant to lose His only son...I can relate to that now. I'm also not afraid of death at this point, as I have something to look forward to - seeing our baby. Now, don't worry, I'm NOT suicidal. I could never inflict that kind of pain on my husband and mom...I guess I'm just more at peace with facing death someday.  

But having a strong faith, still doesn't help me adequately understand why it happened to us.  The anger is definitely there.  So much money has gone into women's health, into perfecting abortion procedures, but there isn't the simplest care for miscarriage support, for research into why this happens so often, to figure out a way to somehow help a threatened miscarriage.  Sensitivity training is a must here, as I really felt like we had been treated poorly by most of the medical staff.  I received no bereavement leave from work, I was legally not entitled to a mourning period...nothing.  Why did they not tell me what to expect? Why couldn't I take my baby home to have it buried? Why didn't anyone call a chaplain...or ask if we'd like that performed.  So many 'why's'

I'm just not sure how to move past this, how to get back "to life".  I really feel like I need to live "harder" for the life that our baby won't have, as s/he will never experience any of that, but I don't know how to start...