It’s cathartic to write out my story, but it is also a way for me to share the details of my loss without telling the story to people over and over again. This was not just our loss, but a loss for us all. This baby was a great-granddaughter, a neighbor, a niece, and a friend. The day after my miscarriage, Alex and I really realized that this was our baby, but that it happened to us all, and while many people were there for us emotionally, spiritually, and physically, that it was also our duty to love and mourn with others for their sake and for their loss. We were much more prepared for this loss because so many friends we know have boldly shared their stories with us. Several people have told me that I am brave or something for sharing with people what happened, and that seems odd to me, because I don’t feel brave. It simply feels like part of my personality that I am transparent, and the gifts, benefits, and encouragements you receive (and need) when you share seem to be such a necessary element to the grieving process. I don’t consider it a gift to share my story with you, I consider it a gift that you are a part of our life, and our baby’s life. We are the body of Christ, and we all suffered a loss. Still, I do share graphic visual images in this account, but I think that many people want to know that, and I hope it is good for people who will someday need to prepare for having a miscarriage. There’s no covering up the messiness of miscarriage for us. It’s labor. It’s life.
I was exactly 11 weeks pregnant when I miscarried. I started having very light dark bleeding on Tuesday and immediately called Alex, just so that he would know to keep his phone on him, because my fear was that something would happen quickly and I would need him to take care of the kids so that I could go to the hospital. I knew at that point that the bleeding was a very common thing during pregnancy, and we began to be on guard, but still had no true concerns. It did scare me because I didn’t have bleeding with Clara and Paul, but I figured that maybe it was because I had just worked out the day before. By Wednesday afternoon, my cervix began to feel very sore, and then after putting the kids to bed, I started to have cramping. We felt like we were in that weird limbo place of still not wanting to go to a dark place, but also needing to prepare ourselves. By the time we went to bed at 8:30, I was having more severe contractions, and went in and out of sleep until 1:30a. I am a lover of heat, and so I hopped in the bath and called my sweet friend, Paul’s godmother, who has had several miscarriages. She helped me understand what was happening, but also still encouraged me not to go to the bad place. However, my blood at this point was now bright red, and I knew bright red blood and cramping was most likely a death sentence.
At this point, I had had my pregnancy confirmed at the women’s care center, which I needed in order to get an appointment with my OB, but I had not seen a doctor. Finding a doctor at first was a challenge, and then several friends referred me to a local Catholic doctor who took my insurance. It felt like a dream and so easy that my appointments and delivery would all occur 10 minutes away with someone who so many of my friends trusted. I had no reason to go in for an earlier appointment, and I am so glad that I didn’t go in. I had the option of going in for an ultrasound at the women’s care center at 8 or 9 weeks, and I didn’t. What a blessing! I didn’t go because I didn’t want to drag the kids with me to an appointment, and although I know Clara would have loved it, I wasn’t feeling impatient or scared and knew that I would see my baby soon enough. I cannot express my gratitude enough that God didn’t put it on my heart to go in. If I had gone in, I would have known that the baby was dead, and I would have then been extremely impatient to go into labor or have a D&C. As it was, everything just happened naturally.
After a 45 minute bath full of tears, laughter, encouragement, and simply talking about our lives (midst my contractions, “No, keep talking, I’m just cramping, but keep talking!”) we hung up. I decided that I was warm and relaxed enough to go to bed. I went to the toilet, and almost instantly a large lump of tissue came out. It sounds funny writing it now because it’s so obvious that I was in labor, and I did feel resigned to know that the baby was not going to make it, but in that moment, I was not thinking in my head, “Oh yes, I’m in labor losing my baby at this moment.” All of a sudden, the cramping stopped and then the baby and the cord (all attached) came out. I panicked and thought, should I get a cup, should I let the baby go into the toilet? Is that okay? Do I want to deal with the remains? I quickly snapped into gear, because OF COURSE I would want to bury my baby, OF COURSE. Thankfully, the cord was still inside of me and I got a cup and calmly woke up Alex and asked him to come to the bathroom. Such a calm and loving reaction he had even though the first thing he saw when he walked into the bathroom in the middle of the night was our baby just hanging out of me. He said, “Oh, okay,” and I’m so grateful for that, because it was only truly, truly at that moment did I realize fully that I was losing our baby in that instant. We waited for about five minutes, until I gently pulled on the cord and the baby came out in entirety. The amniotic sac was intact, and her body was very small.
We felt so blessed that she came out all in one piece because then I knew that I had something that we could so clearly bury. I would like to think that I would have instinctively gotten a cup to save her and bury her, but I don’t know. I was prepared for that because of hearing stories of friends who have lost pieces of tissue or not known what was happening and then grieved losing pieces of their baby forever. I thank all those friends who have shared their story, because it helped me with mine.
Instantly, my labor pains were gone, and I felt so relieved that it was over and that it had happened rather quickly. I was so grateful that I was at home, with Alex, and that the kids were fast asleep. I got dressed while Alex cleaned the blood off of the toilet, floor, and bathtub. I asked him to pour us some wine, turn on our electric blanket, and we sat in bed and just talked, cried, and laughed.
When the baby was conceived, it felt like such an act of God. We had decided at that point (beginning of December), that we were ready to be open to being pregnant, and that we thought perhaps it would take a few months to get pregnant, but that if we did get pregnant right away, that the timing of that would still work out with the spacing of our kids, moving this summer to a new house, starting school, etc. We laughed happy laughs of joy and excitement when we instantly became pregnant on a day of lower fertility odds. It seemed that God was really saying, “Thank you for opening the door, YES, I DO want you to have another baby now.” As the weeks went by, this felt like the most exciting and calming pregnancy we have had so far. This was the best pregnancy that I have had. We knew it was God’s will that we get pregnant, we knew we wanted more kids and for them to be close in age, and everything felt like it was lining up. I had found and seen a wonderful chiropractor, the women’s care center to confirm pregnancy, and Alex and I had reworked our schedule so that he could give me time to do my work, phone calls, and yoga in the mornings. Everything seemed so easy compared to my first two pregnancies, which were filled with long drives to appointments, long afternoons, long waits, no time or energy to work out, and no time or energy to eat healthily. With this pregnancy, I have been feeling so limber, tired at times, but also energetic. I’ve been able to take many cat naps, eat lots of salads, and I was just generally feeling so good. I had basically no sickness and no aversions to food. I had only gained a few pounds and had just gotten out a few of my maternity items to slip into. I feel so grateful that this was not our first baby. We already knew how things worked, already had maternity clothes to just grab from a nearby box, already knew what challenges my body was going to face and we were able to get a jump on things so that everything would go smoothly. I’m so blessed that I didn’t have weeks and weeks of weight gain and a difficult pregnancy marked with sickness, only to end with death. The death is tragic and will always be a loss, but I truly do count my blessings.
Because our baby was conceived in such a way that we intentionally opened ourselves to God’s will, her death is easier to accept. Her life had dignity from a beautiful conception to natural death. Alex’s biggest fear was that somehow I would blame myself or think that I had done something wrong, and I know that is untrue, which calmed his fears. We have so little or no control over so many things in life, especially life itself. Life and death are a part of life, and that is why I’m so glad to have shared with everyone our pregnancy. I will continue to share with you all our future pregnancies, and any future losses we may have. We are the body, and while I have no judgment whatsoever of people who do keep their joys and sorrows private, I consider it a gift to myself to share. So, thank you for letting me share.
Telling Clara was extremely difficult. She has been talking and asking about the baby every day. “Will the baby be silly like Paul?” “Will the baby drink breast milk or formula?” “Will the baby sleep in the swing?” “Is the baby a girl or a boy?” “Did you know I’m pregnant? I have a baby in my tummy too. Paul gave me a seed. He’s my husband.” (HAHAH!!!) It goes on and on. The day after miscarrying, she kissed my belly twice that morning before I headed off to the doctor. When I got home, we told her that the baby had died, and that she had come out of my tummy. We told her that baby Bernadette was in heaven and that Jesus and Momma Mary were taking care of her. Her two biggest questions so far have been, “Why did the baby die?” And “I want baby Bernadette to come back.” It breaks my heart to hear those words, but once again, this is part of life, and we are not immune to death. “You have a baby sister in heaven praying for you now,” we told her.
We don’t know if the baby was a girl, but we decided to just guess. We had a girl and a boy name all ready and picked out, but it felt right to give her a new name, since her life turned out so differently than expected. Alex said, “What if it was a boy and he’s in heaven like, HEY, what’s up with the girl name?” I replied, “They’ll just call him Bernie or Bernard then!”
I went to my doctor’s appointment and was seen by a beautiful nurse. She told me that she has six living children, and has had three miscarriages. She spent about 80 minutes with me, and was very kind and slow. She used forceps to remove a very small piece of membrane that was left, which was not painful, only uncomfortable to be splayed out for so long. I brought in the baby to show her, hoping to find out how far along she had actually been, and to in advance “prove” that so much had come out and that I didn’t need a D&C. Apparently, if you bring in the baby, they are not supposed to let you take it home, but she knew we were going to bury her, and was very kind. She estimated that she died around 7 or 8 weeks. I still can’t get over how grateful I was for not knowing that she had passed away. I wasn’t waiting in fear or anticipation of going into labor. It just happened, and it happened with peace, and at home, and with my best friend.
The nurse told me to wait two weeks and then to take a pregnancy test. If it’s positive, then they will do an ultrasound and possibly a D&C to remove anything left. My only prayer request now is that it is already over. She said that if I have a D&C, that I should wait 3 months before getting pregnant, but if everything is fine, that I really don’t have to wait at all. We’re definitely not at the point that we can plan anything timing-wise, but we do want to try again when my body feels healed.
When I got home from the doctor’s office, Alex went into school, and the kids and I had a dance party, made lunch, and then they went down for their nap. I called a local cemetery. Now, this part is amazing: One of my beautiful local friends recently shared that she had miscarried and that her baby was buried for free at this Catholic local cemetery. After putting the kids down, I called the cemetery, and they came to my house and picked up my baby for free within half an hour! What? The man who came to my door was beaming with love. I felt discombobulated because they had come so quickly, but wow, so grateful! I put the cup in a bag, and slipped in a note that said, “Bernadette Tarr.” The program is called “In God’s Arms,” and we can’t wait to take the kids to visit her. I’m so glad that they came right away because I hated keeping her in the refrigerator, and I’m so glad Clara didn’t have to see any of that. Putting my baby in a cup in the refrigerator next to eggs all night was a terrible feeling. It’s the best you can do, but to think, “I’m alive in my bed, and my baby is in my fridge,” sucks.
I had been sending text messages and calling a few friends and family to tell them, and was flooded with beautiful e-mails and messages. My fear is that people will think I am being “fake fine,” when truly I have cried, I will cry more, but tragedy comes in waves. Also, I have a husband and two young children. Life doesn’t stop, and all I can really do right now is take care of myself and my living children who need me.
I loaded up the kids to go to a small family mass on campus. A 25-minute dorm mass that we’ve been attending, which usually has 1-3 other young families, and 1-3 students. It was a visiting priest, and he was just so beautiful. My friends knew and loved him, but within two minutes of meeting him, we all walked the stairs to the chapel and I was crying telling him what happened. I asked him to offer the mass for her, which he graciously agreed as he gave me the most gentle and sincere hug. It was the best family mass we’ve ever had there. We were there with two families who already knew we had lost the baby and were there grieving with us. The priest was such a true father, in that he was there to take care of us all, lead us in prayer and worship, and also be joyful in a true sense. He started the mass by sitting down, and then got up and said, “Excuse me, I had this cough drop I thought would be gone by now, but you know when they just won’t go away?” Hahah! He was so family oriented and during the service gestured and invited the children to hold his missal. He gave them each a blessing and would smile and laugh at them during the service (especially when Clara climbed up and started scaling the wall to touch the gorgeous stained glass).
When we got home, friends came over and brought us dinner, gifts for me, gifts for Clara, and it was so beautiful. Also, it was another element of normalcy and fun for Clara.
After I put the kids to bed, a friend came over to watch over our house so we could go on a date. We had planned this date a week ago, and what amazing timing! We were able to go out of our environment and talk, eat, and drink, and just be with each other. We processed more and I was able to share with Alex more of what had happened at the doctor’s office and how I felt about everything, and then we got to read some of our old love letters to each other to end the night. I cleaned out our old letters last week and had already slipped them into my purse so that we could enjoy them on our date, and it was lovely. We have so many sweet cards between the two of us, and they represent such love and work that we have put into our relationship for ten years.
Soon I’ll remove the maternity clothes from my closet, cancel future appointments, get my health together, and visit the burial site. That’s all that’s really next for us. We are grateful for our living children and for our marriage. All of our children are really God’s children, and we can only submit to his will.
I have many sinful weakness, but jealousy doesn’t tend to be one of them. I have so many beautiful friends who are pregnant right now, and my hope is that they don’t shield their joy for my sake. I love life, we need life.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
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