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I lost my baby 3 days ago, at least that is when he passed through my body. It was horrific.

I have 2 children already, 4 1/2 and 2 1/2. This baby was my third pregnancy – first miscarriage. While grieving the loss of a baby is an awful process, it sure is helping to have two beautiful children to hold and cherish. Amazing how in tragedy love can expand and time can slow – consciously absorbing both.

I’m trying to empathize with how much more difficult this would be to process void of children. Super heavy heart…

Being that I’m super logical, I’m wrestling with how the grieving process seems swift for me. Should I feel more sadness? Should I have cried more? Is it wrong that I can’t wait to be pregnant again? Not sure if I’m avoiding the process or truly at an ok place? Only time will tell.

Here’s how the processing is going:

What happened:

From my own research and observation I think I had what’s called a ‘blighted ovum‘. I had an egg, that was fertilized by a sperm, successfully implanted, my hormone levels rose, my uterus grew, I got a bump, my boobs were tender, I had cravings, pregnancy brain, and lush hair. I was pregnant – I knew it even before I implanted, and the test read positive on week three. Then something went wrong… looking back I can recall several “that’s weird” moments where my boobs felt deflated, and my tummy appeared to be shrinking, and my typical nausea never arrived, and my allergies that normally subside during pregnancy were present, and my pregnancy mask or melasma wasn’t there anymore.

So, after my fertilized egg implanted, normally the cells split and split and split to eventually form an embryo. This is where it went wrong in my pregnancy, and they attribute it to a chromosomal failure. So I had no embryo. My pregnancy wasn’t successful from the start. When my embryo failed to grow, I stopped producing hormones. Which is when I prob started having the “that’s weird” moments. Eventually, during week 7 of my pregnancy is when the bleeding began.


(Warning: graphic detail) When the bleeding started it was a small tint of pink on my toilet paper one day. Nothing the next. Then bright red spotting one time on the third day, and again one time on the fourth day. On the fifth day I began to bleed every time I peed, but just a little. I texted my close girlfriends for prayer because now I was beginning to worry. I told my mom, and she tried to assure me she bled for 4 months and never even knew she was actually pregnant. I kept reading and hearing stories how this could be “normal”.

One of my girlfriends consulted an OBGYN friend of hers who relayed to me: O+ blood types were a good thing, not filling a pad an hour was a good thing, no pain was a good thing, no fever was a good thing – BUT it might be what they call “threatened miscarriage” but not to worry it could very well mean nothing. I was given mandatory bed-rest, which was perfect because I was exhausted.

Day six, I woke up in immense pain. I feared the worse. I knew it was happening. As the hours passed the amount of blood kept increasing. I spoke with my doctors office twice  that day. First, at 8am to ask if I should come in today instead of waiting for my scheduled appointment tomorrow, but the doctor wasn’t in today and even if she was there wasn’t anything they could do to prevent what was happening. They told me what I needed to watch for, since the miscarriage seemed to already be happening they were mostly concerned if I was growing ill or faint from the loss of blood, pain level, or possible signs of infection. Only then would I need to be concerned and go to ER.

So then I just wait. Wait as the pain and blood kept increasing along with my fears and tears. Then the clots starting coming. That was the traumatic part – golf ball sized clumps of bloody tissue falling out of me. For a several hours. That part is what keeps haunting my thoughts.

Next, the gestational sac fell out. Unmistakably. I was unsure whether or not I wanted to examine it. Fearful I wasn’t ready to see… see my baby. I walked away, to lie down for a bit and breathe, make sense of what I knew I saw. What I knew that meant. I lost my baby.

The doctors office called to check on me and I explained that I was pretty certain I just experienced a miscarriage and I passed lots of clots and the sac.

It’s been three days, the blood has lessened, but I’m constantly bleeding throughout the day still. Nothing is worse than having to wear large smelly bloody pads again. I thought I’d never have to return to that post freshman year?! I did do an awful sexy dance in my bulky pad filled granny panties while singing “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?” Got the husband and I a much needed laugh.


Like I said above the pain didn’t come until the morning of, and it was major lower back pain, and really uncomfortable cramps. But in the days since I passed everything, the pain has actually increased for me. I feel weak and helpless like I just gave birth, minus the torn vagina part. The pain is pressure and weak walls -the kind that causes you to waddle, and the cramping comes and goes. But when it strikes, it knocks me down. I’ve just been taking 1000 mg of Tylenol when it gets bad. In the moments I feel good and try to do stuff like tidy the house or water my plants, I quickly regret it and find myself curled up in bed, worse-off.

The Doctors Appointment:

I think this is where it all became VERY emotional for me. The moment this couple walked in beaming with excitement eager to pee in a cup for the first time, clearly they just found out they were pregnant, I couldn’t help but collapse from my obvious inability to relate. Then the ultrasound room – cue ugly cry. I stood staring at the giant machine that would solidify my fate. Hoping for that sliver of chance there maybe was twins, and I only lost one of my babies. But knowing in my gut it was over. And just as I already knew, my uterus was empty. I left with not many answers, although I didn’t have many questions. The one positive: since my body had emptied most of it on its own there was no need for surgery (D&C).

My question I did have related to the gestational sac I passed… (I did muster the courage to examine it.) There was nothing inside it. So I wanted to know if she knew how far along I was or why there was nothing inside or why it happened. There wasn’t much she could tell me, and I later researched and found that it was prob the blighted ovum like I mentioned above.

I cried the remainder of the day. My tears were disbelief mostly, they were also heartbreak.

Telling my kids:

I think I was most wrecked at the thought of telling my 4 1/2 year old son who was sooooo very excited about this baby. I fretted about it for 2 days. My friends joined me in praying for how to go about it. My husband and I found a moment when our youngest was napping and pulled him aside. He already was aware I had been sad, and had a big owwie. It couldn’t have gone better. I explained that the pain and sadness I had been feeling was because the baby inside mommy’s tummy was gone, that the baby died and now is in Heaven. That God is taking care of my baby now. And just as I was ready to burst with tears anticipating his flood of questions, he smiled, hugged me, and confirmed what he heard, asking, “So God has your baby now?”With my yes, he was satisfied with the explanation and was done talking about it. Phew.

My 2 1/2 year old came to me yesterday morning, pulled up my shirt and told me there was no baby in there. Freaking out that she was somehow prophetic I asked my sister if maybe she had said anything and she explained my daughter prob overheard my son telling her in the car.

What I keep reflecting is how gracious God is to protect children’s hearts and minds from the pain of this world. Kids don’t experience this like adults understand loss. They’re perfectly satisfied knowing baby is in Heaven. Simple.

Also, how my kids just somehow understand mommy is in pain and sad. How they’ve been so independent, and obedient, and kind, and extra loving. So thankful for that grace extended on us too.

Telling those who knew I was pregnant:

I wanted to get this out of the way pronto! There was a handful of people I wanted to surround me in this time of loss, to comfort me with their love or words or care, most of them had already been on the journey with me from when my bleeding started, but some not. And their love was needed and welcomed.

Then there were a few fringe friends who I had shared with that I wanted to text immediately, so to avoid any innocent yet completely derailing questions. I was brief and forward, letting them know I didn’t want to talk about it.

I felt relief once I had told everyone.

Naming him:

My husband and I shared a moment after we had examined the gestational sac together. I shared with him that I had been calling this baby by a name for the last several weeks. Tobias Crew. He loved the name. And it came with great significance to our life. (You can read more about his name here.) I wont know if he was indeed a boy like I had envisioned, not until I get to meet him one day in Heaven. But it fit, that was his name.

The Support:

Hallelujah for my people! We have been completely surrounded and provided for. Thank you Sarah, Jenna, Jei, Sally, Kelsy, Danielle, Rae, Bianca, Cassie, Jane, and Alyssa! Thank you for the meals, flowers, help with my kids, chores, treats, checking in on me, sitting and crying and praying for me. Love you so much.

Thank you to my husband, who prob hasn’t had time to actually process this all. Who has been so strong for me and our kids, picking up all my slack, all while tending to me bedside. I love you babe, more than ever.

Sorry, I know that was a long post, but I hope it can be of help to someone. Either who has personally lost their baby or if you know someone who is going through this. How to process miscarriage. What to expect from a natural miscarriage.