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By: Emily Carrington EPLA Founder Last week Dear Abby responded to Crystal in Nevada about her aunt who was still grieving a stillborn baby who died 20 years ago. Crystal was concerned about her aunt because she has “lived a morbid lifestyle.” Examples of morbidity included wanting to have a 1st Birthday party and recently asking for the baby to be included in the list of grandchildren at her grandfather’s funeral. Abby responded by validating Crystal’s concerns and invalidating the aunt’s grief. She started by saying that this woman needed grief counseling and then that the idea of the birthday party is “truly sad.” She did suggest that it wasn’t that out of line to want to include the baby in the list of grandchildren, so there is that. As many in the baby loss community have pointed out, Abby’s response was not only out of touch, but it is actually harmful to loss parents. While grief counseling is a great tool for learning to live with grief, what type of result does Abby think grief counseling will produce? This response at Unexpected Family Outing says it well: “You assumed that her aunt had not sought any kind of counseling. Perhaps, you think counseling cures a person’s heartache for their child?” The same piece continues to point out the flaws with Abby’s advice: “You could have shared that there is no timeline when it comes to grief. You could have used your influential platform to help those normalizing the grief experience. Instead, you decided to continue the very harmful narrative that grief is about moving on.” And many others took to Facebook to express their disgust with Dear Abby. At the time of publishing the Dear Abby post had over 430 comments that largely expressed displeasure and pain with Abby’s answer, a much greater response than any recent posts on the page.
From our perspective at EPLA, two things are very clear from this whole episode:
The Dear Abby issue shows us just how far we’ve come and how far we still need to go. We rejoice in our progress and look forward to the challenges ahead -- because no family should suffer miscarriage alone. Emily Carrington is the founder of the EPLA and mother to four children.
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By: MaKenzie Schienebeck I wanted it to be over. I wanted our once joyful baby to be out of me. The pain of carrying a baby inside of me that is gone was only bringing awful pain. I was given medication to make the process faster. I inserted the four prescribed pills and waited for my body to speed up the process. These pills help rid the baby from your womb. The next morning, I awoke in pain and blood. I felt sick. I hopped in another hot shower to ease the cramps. This is normal when you’re giving birth. I was dilated. Once I finished showering, I laid on the couch in agony. The pain was immense. I ran back to the shower. My two boys and husband were now up for the morning. My oldest was getting ready for school. Let me note, this was also my 24th birthday. My husband got our oldest on the bus and made me my favorite stuffed French toast for my birthday breakfast. I showered again, and happened to hold my hand out at just the right moment to catch our baby. It was a beautiful little baby with all its anatomy. We placed our baby in a Tupperware container with a towel temporarily until we could bury him/her. I then laid on the bathroom floor, feet away from my son and husband, who were in the kitchen. I asked my husband for a glass of water. The blood loss was making me extremely thirsty. I recall waking up to my cup of water spilled on the floor around me, blood all over, my husband at my feet as his voice cracking with fear. He was on the phone with 911. After another unconscious moment, I woke up to a stretcher in my house, an ambulance crew, and police. I was taken to our local hospital by ambulance. Sitting on a white bed and looking at bright lights, I felt blood pour like a waterfall out of me. I asked the nurses and doctor if I was going to die. They looked fearful. My husband held my hand. I was passing out over and over. I felt a strange peace amongst the sickness and blood loss. My husband temporarily had to leave my side to hand my grandmother our youngest. She took him to her house while my husband stayed by me. As he was away, I grabbed my phone with the last ounce of strength left in me. I wrote my sons and husband a goodbye letter. I felt as if this was it me. My life is over at 24, on my birthday. I recall the immense pain, thinking of missing out on birthdays, graduations, and life with my family. How easily we take for granted the sunrise the next day and the family beside us. An ambulance crew from Woodruff, Wisconsin, came to take me from Park Falls. My husband followed along in the car. It was a 45-minute drive. I had an emergency D&C and blood transfusions. I asked and EMT if I was going to die. He told me “nobody has ever died in my ambulance, and you are not going to be my first.” He was an angel. He made me feel safe. After surgery, I received more blood in my recovery room. I was given instructions to sit up hours later. My blood pressure and heart rate skyrocketed, and I passed out. My body was not taking the blood loss and new blood well. I was fearful to ever sit up again. We stayed in the hospital overnight. The next day, after more blood was given to me, we were sent home. I took it easy to recover. My husband took down the crib and so forth. I sold every baby item and cried each time. I kept TWO items: a black and white muslin blanket with arrows, which I would cuddle it every night, and my baby’s soft, yellow sleeper with ducks on it. I had a cabinet with wedding memorabilia. Baby’s sleeper, pregnancy test and ultrasounds are now in there with our wedding belongings. I had panic attacks for months. I decided I was not going to be given this card in life without fighting back. I set up a Facebook page to talk to others going through this. I speak out. I want to normalize this taboo subject. I never thought this would happen to me. When I found out I was pregnant, I felt invincible. I felt nothing bad could happen. My biggest fear was something happening to me at birth. My whole outlook on life has changed. It is a gift. We get so used to waking up every morning that we forget about those who don't. I was almost one of them. I was also one of the one in four woman in every pregnancy that lost her baby. One in four. Let that sink in. I could not fathom the women in my life who opened up about their losses. There are so many of us mothers to angels, but you would never know it. It could be you, your friend, sister, mother, neighbor. It is not uncommon, and it is brutally painful. We buried our baby in a small wooden box, kissing it as we lay it down into the cold, brown dirt. I purchased blue and pink flowers to plant by our baby. We did not know the gender. Our baby was not going to he buried nameless, so my husband and I combined our first initials and named our beloved angel KC. KC turned my pain into power. My sadness into greatness. I will not stop speaking out until my last breath. I would also like to tell everyone reading this that you are not alone. Do not be afraid to speak up. If you want to remain quiet, remain quiet. If you want to talk, talk. If you want to cry or grieve, get it out. And last but not least.. do not forget about the fathers. They feel the pain we feel. They helped bring that little life into this world with you. Although they do not carry the baby, they share the love we do. Talk to them, ask if they are okay, support and love them. Sending sympathies to mom? Don't forget dad. My hope is that I save someone from this pain. I hope you know you are strong, loved and needed. The pain will remain but your strength is stronger. Fight it out moms and dads: you are warriors. God gives his toughest battles to his strongest warriors.
MaKenzie Schienebeck is a mother to two beautiful boys and an angel baby. She is a wife, blogger, and entrepreneur. MaKenzie is Mrs. Price County Wisconsin and running for Mrs. Wisconsin United States.
By: MaKenzie Schienebeck Growing up in a small town full of love, family and friends, life was seemingly beautiful even after enduring many hard times. The people surrounding my life were always there to lift me back up, dust me off, and straighten my crown. Envisioning my future, I knew I wanted a big family of my own with my husband. We have two beautiful young boys together, ages seven and three. The two of us work hard to keep a roof over our head, food on our plates, and love, laughter and adventure flowing through our house. We knew we wanted another child to add to our crazy, mud-digging, Hot Wheels-filled, goofy household. One day, while my husband was away at work, I picked up a pregnancy test from our local dollar store. Once home, I went to the restroom, unwrapped that good old box and did the test. Seconds later, I saw two beautiful pink lines. I tried to keep calm and collected as excitement flooded throughout my body. I touched my belly, realizing I was carrying another blessing. Once my husband arrived home from work, I asked him to come check out the tomatoes in the garden with me. It was my way of getting him alone to tell him about the new bundle of joy. After I told him, we hugged, cried, and went on to tell family and friends. Doctor’s appointments, ultrasounds, days, and nights passed by. We saw our growing peanut’s little hands, feet, belly, arms, head, heartbeat, and wiggling little body all on a black and white screen before us. The two of us had excitedly purchased all the necessities for baby number three: Pack-n-Play, rock n play, bottles, crib, bedding, toys, blankets, Bumbo, activity mat, diapers, you name it. Baby’s room was set up only two months into our pregnancy. “Excited” is nowhere near the joy we were experiencing. Our boys would kiss my belly, talk to baby, dream of adventures they’d have as baby grew up with them. Fast forward to my morning sickness. I had such bad sickness with my previous pregnancies, so I was thankful this last pregnancy that I wasn't enduring the morning sickness after two months. It completely stopped and I felt way better. I continued to rub my belly, make plans, and buy baby products. Our two boys came to appointments and ultrasounds with us. The last ultrasound is where my story turned from sunshine to an unspeakable darkness. The doctor squirted jelly on my stomach and began rolling the heartbeat monitor around. Thinking she had heard movements or a beat but could not say for certain, she reminded us this is common in early pregnancy. We were given the choice to head home or get an ultrasound. The clinic was 45 minutes away and we had to wait five hours for our ultrasound. My husband and I decided to take our youngest to the park to play, as our oldest was in school and would be going to his grandmother’s later on if we were not back in time. AT the park, there were giggles, rain, swings and talks. We played until it was time to head back to the ultrasound. After a while in the waiting room, we were called in. Giddy, we thought nothing of this ordeal. Baby was too small for the heartbeat monitor, right? Time to change into my gown as previous times, lay on the bed in a dim, calm, quiet ultrasound room which always stirred up amazing memories of my babies. More jelly on my stomach and up comes the image on the screen. My husband was by my side, holding our youngest son. The tech scrolled on baby three, changing screen colors. Flat lines on the heartbeat grid, moving to different angles, round belly, head. Same baby but this time, different story. My husband said "there is no heartbeat.” The tech told us she could not confirm his suspicion; only our doctor could. My soul, my husband’s soul felt crushed within minutes. Tears of the worst pain flowed down my face. We were walked in a quiet hallway away from public, upstairs to my doctor’s office. The news we already knew was confirmed. We had lost our baby two weeks prior. I had an awful ride home. How do I tell my sons? How do I tell my family and friends? Did I do this? Did something I ate or do, do this? This cannot be. The ultrasound has to be wrong. My baby is not dead. Denial. Blame. I felt it all. Once home, I sat on the shower floor as hot water fell upon me. I took shower after shower to soothe my pain, anxiety, and depression. I remembered how I would rub my belly and realized I was rubbing a belly with a lifeless baby inside, unbeknownst to me. 
MaKenzie Schienebeck is a mother to two beautiful boys and an angel baby. She is a wife, blogger, and entrepreneur. MaKenzie is Mrs. Price County Wisconsin and running for Mrs. Wisconsin United States
By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor At Hope Blooms, we’ve talked extensively about remembering the children of your loved ones. In the immediate aftermath, that’s easier to do. But as time goes by and the initial pain subsides for loss parents, friends and family may forget to acknowledge the loss. It happens with every death; when my grandfather died, my family spent a lot of time recounting his jokes, oddities, and warmth. It was cathartic and a way to honor him. We still tell those stories from time-to-time but not with the frequency that we did immediately after his passing. But child loss is different in many ways than other deaths. The intensity of the grief may decrease, but the grief remains in some form for a lifetime. You may not see the grief as vividly, but it persists, like a scar that doesn’t quite fade away. For loved ones, we have opportunities to come alongside loss parents for the long haul. That does not mean bringing up the loss frequently, but we can find little moments to remind the parents that we remember and love their children. So, from time-to-time, send loss parents a gift that shows you remember their children. Write them a note. Bake them a special treat. Do whatever you can to honor their little ones. Because the grief of losing a child doesn’t end. It intensifies and wanes, but it doesn’t end. Parents who experience miscarriage need our support, and we as loved ones should let them know: your children may not be here, but they are still loved.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
By: Emily Carrington EPLA Founder The number of loss parents who have found their voice on social media is beautiful, inspiring, and empowering. As each one comes forward with a deeply personal and deeply painful story, our children are remembered and in a way given the voice they never had. But sometimes, I have to keep scrolling. I just can’t read your story right now. I can’t read your story because I can’t feel that pain again. The anxiety, the worry, the flood of emotions. I can’t read your story because I have been there. I have been you. Your story is my story and right now, scrolling through Facebook before bed, I need just a slight reprieve. I also can’t read your story because my mind fills with worry, regret, fear, and anxiety. I have lost three little ones inside me, and I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to the one down the hall, sleeping peacefully. I can’t read your story. But I am glad you wrote it. I hope it touches someone. I hope it helped to heal you, just like writing my story has helped to heal me. I am sorry I can’t read your story today. It isn’t you. It is me. And dear fellow loss parent, I know you will have a day where you can’t read my story either. And that is okay, you don’t have to. We are still in this together. And on the days I can’t read your story, know that I hear you, I see you, and I honor you, your little one, and your pain.
Emily Carrington is the founder of the EPLA and mother to four children.
By: Emily Carrington EPLA Founder
A little more about the miscarriage care kits… The board of directors at EPLA developed the miscarriage care kits based on our own experiences. Having suffered our own pregnancy losses and walking through pregnancy loss with friends, we realized that there is more we could be doing to help women during loss. Last week we shared a post detailing the items in the care kits. This week I wanted to show you all these kits. To see what is in each kit, watch the Facebook Live Video now. Emily Carrington is the founder of the EPLA and mother to four children.  By: Emily Carrington EPLA Founder Last fall, EPLA started providing miscarriage care kits at no cost in Hillsdale, Michigan, for anyone who needs one. Since releasing our kits, we have had many inquiries about what we include. Whether you live in our area and need a kit for yourself or a friend, or you want to copy our idea to provide these kits in your area, we thought this information would be helpful. The makeup of the kits is flexible, but this is the core of what we provide. Home miscarriage care kit: (Large Kit) These are intended for a woman working with her doctor and planning to miscarry the remains of her little one at home. This kit would be most likely used in a “missed miscarriage” situation where she knows the baby has died but is waiting to start the miscarriage process. Sanitary Items
Comfort care package
Memorial Items
Educational resources
Other items
Post miscarriage kit (Small Kit) This kit is intended for a woman who has already passed the remains of her little one either naturally or following a D&C procedure. The small kit includes the following items: Pads
Brochures
Locally, both large and small kits are available to anyone who needs one. You or a support person can pick one up at any of the following locations:
The small kit is also distributed to parents experiencing a miscarriage in the Hillsdale Hospital Emergency Department. If you are interested in creating your own kit we encourage you to take some ideas from us! You can also check out our Amazon Wishlist for more specifics! We have provided these kits by a grant from the Hillsdale County Community Foundation and from the generous donations of our supporters. 
Emily Carrington is the founder of the EPLA and mother to four children.
By: Maria Servold EPLA Editor One of the most devastating things a pregnant woman can go through is a routine ultrasound that ends up diagnosing a miscarriage. Some women learn they are miscarrying when they begin to bleed or cramp suddenly - a dramatic and gut wrenching experience that we hope no woman has to suffer through alone. Other times, a woman may go in for an ultrasound early in her pregnancy, expecting to see and hear a growing baby, only to see no movement and hear no heartbeat. In such cases, a doctor will usually diagnose the woman with a missed miscarriage. While the term sounds a bit vague, it simply means that the baby has already died, but the woman’s body has not yet begun to pass the baby. It can also be called a delayed or silent miscarriage. The term “silent” is apt, as many women in this situation not only are not aware that their baby has died, but they also often choose to wait for their body to begin the miscarriage process after their diagnosis. For days or weeks, a woman waits with a silent life within her until her body passes the baby. Other women choose to undergo a D&C (dilation and curettage) procedure, which will remove the baby and other tissue from the uterus. Many women have described the pain of a missed miscarriage, including EPLA President Emily Carrington and a woman named Keri, who shared her story on the U.K.’s Miscarriage Association website. At EPLA, we strive to support women experience all types of early pregnancy loss. For more information, visit our resource page or read other posts here on our blog. If you are in Hillsdale, Michigan, where we are located, we can provide a home miscarriage kit to help manage a missed miscarriage.  Maria Servold is an Editor at the EPLA, Assistant Director of the Herbert H. Dow II Program in American Journalism, and Lecturer in Journalism at Hillsdale College
By: Sarah Gregory EPLA Vice President
In every community around the world, families experiencing miscarriage need support from their community networks. Churches and other religious communities play an important role in bearing the burden of grief. How can faith communities help in the midst of the invisible grief of miscarriage? Rituals- Funerals, memorials, and worship Many families need the sense of closure that grief rituals like funerals provide. Reach out to your local funeral home to find out information about miscarriage burial possibilities. Some families do not have a physical body to bury, so consider potential alternatives like a memorial service, memorial garden, or private ritual for closure. Many denominations already have child loss and miscarriage worship outlines in their established worship resources. If you are affiliated with a denomination, look into the established worship rituals for services for infant death and grieving families. Pastors and chaplains can also prepare with established prayers, scripture, and music that particularly fit the burden of miscarriage to share with grieving parents in private moments. Provide a Meal It’s good practice to ask first to be sure the family wants the meal support. Don't be afraid to use your network to provide tangible support while a family wades through the logistical coordination, health decisions, confusion, and emotional trauma a miscarriage creates. Know your Resources Organizations like the Early Pregnancy Loss Association provide educational materials and other resources to women suffering from a miscarriage. Download our educational resources from our website. Local community groups also provide support. A quick search online can start you in the right direction. You can also find out what organizations may already exist by talking to healthcare providers, counselors, or community leaders. Listen, Affirm, and Remember Perhaps the most crucial piece of supporting a family through miscarriage is to listen to the grief and affirm their loss. Families experience long lasting pain that is invisible to most people. Affirm that their grief is real. Check in on the family during the anniversary of the miscarriage or due date. Simply remembering the loss will instill the sense that they are not alone. Faith communities provide emotional and spiritual support during times of grief. Be sure to deploy the networks and systems reserved for moments of trauma and pain at the pace and rate at which the family experiencing loss feels most comfortable. Faith communities can and do provide important healing, support, and hope. Worship Resources: Luthern “Martin Luther’s Comfort for Women Who have had a Miscarriage” https://blogs.lcms.org/2016/miscarriage-comfort-in-a-time-of-loss/ Non-Denominational http://www.preachitteachit.org/articles/detail/helping-her-grieve-how-to-have-a-funeral-for-miscarried-or-aborted-babies/ Othodox Church in America https://oca.org/orthodoxy/prayers/service-after-a-miscarriage-or-stillbirth United States Conference of Catholic Bishops http://www.usccb.org/prayer-and-worship/bereavement-and-funerals/blessing-of-parents-after-a-miscarriage-or-stillbirth.cfm United Methodist https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/ministry-immediately-following-death Sarah Gregory is a Christian Education freelance writer, consultant, and musician. Sarah lives in St. Louis with her husband Kaleb and her son Cecil. By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor At the EPLA, we have a long-term goal to help change the public discourse about miscarriage. For too long, our culture has discussed miscarriage only in hushed tones, forcing parents to grieve privately and pretend they merely experienced a “setback.” But this Mother’s Day season, we are seeing just how much the public dialog has changed in a short amount of time. For example, at Sharing Magazine, Tiffany Elder emphasizes that mothers of lost children are indeed mothers: “I looked her in the eyes from across the table, and I told her that she is, in fact, a mother. I told her that she has in fact experienced having the love of a mother for that little baby.” We have come to accept the fact that these mothers will likely feel a great deal of pain on Mother’s Day as they reflect on the devastating loss in miscarriage. Over at Proverbs 31 Ministries, Stephanie Raquel recalls her own experience with Mother’s Day after losing her first child: “That Mother’s Day was anything but joyful. But my friend Deb? She knew. She understood I’d just want to weep and had called me that morning. Deb left a heartfelt message, sharing a short Scripture and a prayer reminding me of God’s goodness — which was exactly what my soul craved that day.” If you know parents who have lost a child, remember their pain this holiday season and do what you can to help with the healing process. Before Bereaved Mother’s Day on May 5th, Sabrina Ivy reminded us that mothers who miscarried did not fail, “not even a little bit.” They provide a loving home for their child and while death parted mother and child, they shared a bond only the two of them could have: “You create countless scenarios of what you could have done differently because you feel that somehow you have failed. You need to know that you didn’t fail. Not even a little bit.” Mothers of miscarried children are mothers; they feel the pain of a diseased child because whether they held him or her or not, they lost a child. These mothers were the best thing to ever happen to their children; they did nothing wrong to lose their little one. Our culture needs to hear these truths. For too long, we have failed to reinforce these realities and others like it. But, this Mother’s Day season, we have seen just how much the conversation surrounding miscarriage has changed. The truth that parents need to hear is emerging, and women are sharing their stories more and more. So, in a way we celebrate the progress of our public discourse, and yet, we still have a long way to go. We must not confuse where we are with where we want to be. This Mother’s Day season, we are thankful for the support for loss families, and we look forward to even more positive change ahead.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
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