Early Miscarriage Story

a rose and a thorn 

I'm sitting in the girls youth class at church, and one of the sweet older girls, is beginning class. "Let's go around the circle and each share a rose and a thorn from our week." She turns to me, sitting at the edge of this semicircle, to begin first.

My rose comes easily. "Peter just gave a talk in primary and he did such a great job! It was so cute." 

And then I stop, trying to think of any other thorn but the one that pops into my head. But it won't budge, won't let any other thoughts take its place. So I take a breath and speak the six sorrowful words,

"This week, I had a miscarriage." 

A collective gasp and an "awe" fill the room and tears sting my eyes, but I I don't regret my honesty. It feels good to be honest. And I feel loved. 

an unlikely pregnancy 

It was an unlikely pregnancy to begin with. Caleb doesn't want any more kids, and actually had a vasectomy about two months ago. Although it was a joint decision, I was devastated, and spent many nights crying for a baby that would never be mine. 

Caleb was miserable to see me so upset, and when we went away for our anniversary, the vasectomy not yet effective, and the timing just right- boom. I got pregnant. 

At least, I'm pretty positive, but I can't say for certain because on the eve of the day I would have taken a pregnancy test, I awoke in the middle of the night to the most excruciating cramps of my life. I lay in bed, crying, curled up in pain, and having at least an idea of what that pain meant (thanks to the internet). 

"No need to buy a test now," I thought. "If I had been pregnant, I'm probably not anymore." 

But then a week went by without any bleeding. Although the internet assured me it could take 2 weeks for my body to start cleansing, every day my hopes rose a little higher that everything would be fine, that the cramps meant nothing, that I was now five weeks pregnant with a healthy baby. 

miscarriage follows

Then the following Sunday at an extended family gathering, peeing on the toilet in the hall bathroom of my in-law's house, I saw what I had been dreading, the softest of soft pink stains in my underwear. I don't know how long I sat on that toilet crying before I ran down to an empty bedroom in the basement. Caleb found me there. He pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms firmly around me, but no amount of comfort could erase the pain I felt.

Even still, part of me hoped it would be fine. Pink discharge isn't so abnormal in pregnancy, the internet said. 

The next day came with falling rain and bright red blood, boldly declaring my loss. The blood that was meant to support life ran through me and from me, heavy enough to warrant depends. Thankfully, I had a few leftover from postpartum with Elliott. I never imagined I would need them this way. 

More signs of miscarriage followed: many blood clots, more cramping, and a sizable expelling of what I assume was pregnancy tissue. 

there is purpose in pain

It's been a week now, since that soft pink discharge, and I'm still bleeding, still mourning. But somehow, as Job, I can say,

". . . the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." 

I can say this because I know that this trial has purpose in my life, as all trials do. It is molding me, refining me, growing me, and that is why I am here.

Jeffery R. Holland, a man of God that I dearly love and respect said,

“It simply will not work ‘to glide naively through life,’ saying as we sip another glass of lemonade, ‘Lord, give me all thy choicest virtues, but be certain not to give me grief, nor sorrow, nor pain, nor opposition. Please do not let anyone dislike me or betray me, and above all, do not ever let me feel forsaken by Thee or those I love. In fact, Lord, be careful to keep me from all the experiences that made Thee divine. And then, when the rough sledding by everyone else is over, please let me come and dwell with Thee, where I can boast about how similar our strengths and our characters are as I float along on my cloud of comfortable Christianity.” (Waiting on the Lord, Jeffery R. Holland) 

The bleeding seems to be tapering off now, and so are my heavy emotions. I'm sure it will always hurt, but I'm reaching a point where this miscarriage doesn't touch every thought that runs through my head. I'm starting to see the good; the empathy, compassion and understanding born from this trial. And I'm choosing to trust in God's infinite wisdom.

Blessed be the name of the Lord. 

Love, 

Elizabeth Erin