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By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor On a recent podcast, author and blogger Jasmine Holmes talked about how a miscarriage early in her marriage created a temper and feelings of anger that she hadn’t experienced before. She was already adjusting to life with her spouse and had moved away from her lifelong home; the trauma of losing a child only compounded the stress. She described how her grief brought out things that had been suppressed within her. We should not be surprised. Miscarriage is the death of a loved one, a precious child that parents have longed for and loved. It does not merely disappoint. It stings the soul. A troubled soul can stir up emotions that have remained dormant for years, and as Holmes explains, those emotions may bewilder loved ones. But as loved ones, we have an opportunity to walk alongside the grieving as they battle the demons that are exposed through grief. We should expect that their demeanor will be different, that their personality will change for a while. Parents who have lost a child may not be themselves in many ways. And as we see these effects, we will have many opportunities to extend grace to them. Grace for the anger that bubbles out. Grace for the cancelled plans and long nights. Grace for the texts that never get answered. Grace for the pain they may cause through careless words. It won’t always be easy, but grace is a part of helping loss parents heal. Through grace, hearts are softened, minds are comforted, and souls gain rest even for just a moment. So as we seek to form a community around those grieving a miscarriage, may grace be the norm.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
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Father’s Day, like Mother’s Day, can be difficult for parents who have lost a child. Today, we’re featuring a conversation with Early Pregnancy Loss Association board member Maria Servold’s husband, Ryan. The Servolds lost a baby in the fall of 2012. It was their first pregnancy. How did you feel when you found out Maria was pregnant for the first time? I was excited and hopeful. I always wanted kids, so it felt like we were finally on that path. What about when the miscarriage began? At first I felt like I was in a haze and that it wasn’t real. I couldn't believe that that could even happen. It wasn’t something that had crossed my mind as a possibility. I was sad, especially seeing what Maria was going through. What do you remember about the experience? I remember sleeping on the floor next to the couch, where Maria was laying afterward. I was trying to think of ways to comfort her and help her feel better. What can a husband or father do during this time? As a husband, it can feel like there aren’t many ways to help your wife as she is experiencing a miscarriage. It can feel completely out of your control. But just providing emotional support and being there with her to make her feel loved are very important. Now that you are a father to three healthy girls, what would you like to say to other dads experiencing miscarriage? I’m so grateful to now have our three girls, but I won’t ever forget about that first pregnancy. I would encourage other men experiencing loss to have hope for the future, as you don’t know what blessings may be down the road.  By Brittni Faircloth Guest Writer I was an only child growing up. I never babysat or had any real experience with babies. That is not ideal when wanting to start your own family! I always told myself growing up that I would never have kids. I never saw myself as being the motherly type. I met my husband in 2011 and we got married in 2016. In August 2019, we decided to start trying to have a baby. I see all over social media the seemingly high rates of infertility, so when I found I was pregnant just a few months later, I was shocked! I found a doctor, and she was highly recommended from what I saw online. We were so excited about our little baby that we told all of our close friends and family almost immediately. I called the doctor to set up my first appointment, but they didn’t want me to come in until I was 8 weeks along. This way, they could see the baby better on the ultrasound. I didn’t think twice about this, but I wish I would’ve. We anxiously waited for Nov. 6, 2019, to come so that we could see our little jelly bean for the first time! We had the whole day planned. We both took the day off from work, our appointment was around 11 a.m., and we planned a photoshoot around 3 p.m. After our photoshoot, we were going to announce it to the rest of our family, friends, and the whole world if we could. Nov. 6 came, and it will be a day I will never forget. We did the whole routine checkup, answering tons of questions, etc. It was finally time to do the ultrasound. I laid on the table with my husband sitting in a chair by my side. The nurse inserted the ultrasound wand, and there it was! Our little jelly bean. My husband grabbed my arm and shook it excitedly. As soon as I saw the screen I immediately knew something wasn’t right. I couldn’t even form words before the nurse numbly said, “The baby is measuring small, and there isn’t a heartbeat. I will go get the doctor so she can talk to you about your options.” She pulled the ultrasound wand out and walked out. Just like that. Like it was no big deal. I just laid on the table unable to do anything or say anything. My husband put his head in his hands sitting in the chair next to me and it was just silence for what felt like hours. We finally got it together and I got up and got dressed. The doctor came in and said that she was sorry and discussed our options. First, we could wait for the baby to naturally come out. Second, they could give me medication to force the baby out. Third, I could have a D&C procedure to surgically remove the baby. She said for us to think it over and to let them know what we wanted to do. Then they sent us on our way. My head was spinning. I couldn’t even process what she was saying to us or what I was feeling or thinking. I was shocked at how nonchalant they acted. It felt like we were just another number to them. This tragedy might be something they see multiple times a day, but we were completely blindsided. I had no complications, no pains, and no warning signs that this would be the outcome for us. Maybe I was too naïve about it. Miscarriages happen but I never once even thought that it could happen to us. No one in my direct family has had this happen, so miscarriage wasn’t something we even talked about. One of the worst things we had to do was call everyone that knew and tell them the bad news. It was awful. We repeatedly had to say over and over again that we lost the baby. My mom came over that afternoon to be there for us. She talked to us about getting a second opinion. I didn’t even think about this at the time because my head was flooded with emotions and questions that I couldn’t even comprehend. Maybe we got the dates wrong. Maybe the baby was only X amount of weeks instead of X like we thought. We didn’t want to decide to have surgery or force the baby about via medication if there was still the slightest chance of a positive outcome. I didn’t get my hopes up, but we decided to give it a try. We called the doctor that a previous OBGYN I had used suggested. Looking back at it, I wish we would’ve gone to them first. They were able to see us the very next day. Going to their office was a complete 180 from going to the first office. They were so compassionate and sympathetic and made us feel comfortable even though we were going through something traumatic. They did the ultrasound and confirmed what the first doctor told us. The baby had stopped progressing, and there wasn’t a chance of a miracle. They even gave us ultrasound pictures; something the first doctor neglected to do. We asked my mom to go with us to this appointment because she is a question asker, and I felt like I needed her there in case our heads were too in the clouds to comprehend anything. This doctor strongly recommended having the surgery. He said he encourages patients who have miscarriages around the 9 week mark to have the surgery, due to how dangerous a natural passing can be for the mother -- mainly because of excessive bleeding, cramping, and the possibility of hemorrhaging. The first doctor never told us this! I was terrified to do the surgery. Once I noticed my husband asking more and more questions about the surgery, I knew he would rather me to do it since it was the safer option. My surgery was scheduled the very next day. My husband, mom, stepdad, and grandparents were there. The nurses did my work up, and everyone gave me a kiss and left the room. I had a few moments by myself, and I remember putting my hand on my belly and telling the baby that I was so sorry that this was happening. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled back to the operating room. Honestly, the work up and waking up from anesthesia took longer than the actual surgery did. My nurses were so awesome and kind. They helped me from check in to helping me get in the car to go home. I was told to be prepared for a lengthy time of heavy bleeding and cramping and was prescribed a few medications for pain. Luckily, the side effects weren’t too terrible for me.
Three days. That was the time span from being super excited for our first appointment, finding out we lost the baby, getting a second opinion, and having surgery. It all happened so fast. We got so many texts and calls from family and friends checking on us. People even sent us food. I think I was on an adrenaline rush from everything because I was actually OK for the first little bit. Yes, I cried a bunch, but I was OK. I think my survival mode kicked in because I didn’t really have any other choice but to be OK. I felt like I just survived something extremely tragic and if I could handle that, I could take on anything the world threw at me.
The sadness really didn’t start to set in until a few weeks later. I found myself getting very emotional; I would cry all the time. I was feeling extremely anxious, and I would get overwhelmed very easily. Women get post-partum depression after giving birth but what about women that experience a miscarriage? I am not sure if there is any depression named after experiencing a miscarriage. If there isn’t, there should be, because it is just as serious and I definitely had it. I had so many emotions at one time that it was frightening. Going from extremely sad to even embarrassed when people talked about my miscarriage. Why embarrassment? I have no idea, but I felt it. I felt like I failed and that I was already a bad mother because I couldn’t protect my baby. The only person that I could really talk to about it was my husband. He was the only one that really knew what I was feeling. I couldn’t talk to any women in my direct family because no one had experienced this and they couldn’t really relate to what I was feeling. Even my husband told me that he couldn’t really understand what I was going through because it was different for me. He lost a baby too, but I was dealing with it emotionally and physically while he was just dealing with it emotionally. He was right: it hit me a lot harder than it hit him. The emotions had a longer impact on me than it did him. Everyone says to not blame yourself, but how can you not? How can you not blame yourself when you were the one carrying the baby? One of the hardest things for me is the “not knowing" aspect of it. We will never know what really happened and why we lost the baby. We will never know if it was a boy or a girl. We will never know what his or her personality would’ve been like. One thing that haunts me is how silent everyone is about miscarriages. It is like no one wants to talk about it or bring it up. Through this experience I have learned that many of my friends have had this happen to them, but they never said anything. It’s like there’s a stigma around it. I felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around me. This needs to end! Women everywhere shouldn’t feel isolated or alone through this difficult time. It just makes it worse. We need more support groups and more people that will openly share their stories to help others. We need more awareness so women aren’t blindsided like I was. After my surgery, my period cycles were not regular, so it was hard to tell ovulation dates, fertile windows, etc. It was so frustrating when I would get my period. I was so frustrated that we were having to start the process all over. I spent two months feeling sick and dealing with pregnancy symptoms and had to start all over. It took a little bit of time, but I am now four months pregnant with my rainbow baby! So far everything is perfectly fine, and the baby is healthy. As soon as I found out I was pregnant I called my doctor. I am sticking with my “second opinion” doctor’s office, the one that performed my surgery, because we love them so much. They had me come in the very next day to confirm the pregnancy and do blood work. If the first doctor would’ve done this during my first pregnancy, it possibly could’ve prevented my miscarriage because we discovered that my progesterone level was too low. They prescribed me medication, and I started taking it immediately. After further research I found out that low progesterone levels cancan lead to miscarriage. This could’ve been the reason for my miscarriage last year. Unfortunately, by the time the first doctor decided to see me, it was too late. Obviously, we will never know for sure if this is the reason for the miscarriage, but it makes sense in my head. In February 2020, I decided to start seeing a therapist to help me cope with all of these emotions. She has helped me get through it step by step, and I am in a lot better place mentally and emotionally. I will say that I have learned so much from this experience. I had no idea how common miscarriages are. According to my doctor, every 1 in 4 women will experience this. It is also common to experience a miscarriage on your first pregnancy and then have a completely healthy pregnancy after a miscarriage. If you are currently experiencing this now, just know it will get better. Only time and support can heal a pain like this. Keep your chin up, momma! By: Editors
The EPLA would like to wish all mothers a happy Mother's Day. One of our editors, Stephanie Gordon, wrote an excellent post on her blog about miscarriage and Mother's Day. Stephanie writes: "A lot of women don’t feel comfortable telling their stories. Countless women are scared to tell anyone they’ve had a miscarriage for fear of being judged, or that awkward moment of silence when someone doesn’t know what to say. Or they’ll say the wrong thing like, “It happens all the time.” I know, because I've been there. I've lost a baby and it was the most horrific and traumatic event of my life. Luckily, I had Matt, my parents, and close friends to turn to. They let me cry. They let me sit in silence. They didn't ask questions. They made me food. They hugged me. They held me. They let me be angry. They let me heal. They let me talk when I was ready. And each mother’s day I am reminded of my baby that is in heaven." Please go read the entire piece. By: Maria Servold, EPLA Editor  By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor The coronavirus pandemic has changed the way we comfort the grieving. This last week, a dear friend of mine lost his father to cancer. I care deeply for the entire family, a family who made me feel like one of their own. Because of the stay-at-home order in my state, the funeral was limited to a small number of people. I watched the live stream, wishing desperately that I could be there to share memories and celebrate this man’s life. To not physically be there was tough. Instead, I texted and wrote a letter. I prayed. I kept my physical distance, but emotionally and spiritually, I clung as close to the family as I could. Similarly, those who experience miscarriage during this pandemic will receive fewer visitors, fewer hugs, and fewer shoulders to cry on. That does not mean we can’t comfort them in other ways. For those who have a way with words, write. The empathy that flows through the words in a card are a healing balm for the soul. For those who work magic in the kitchen, cook. For the grieving, there is a morsel of peace knowing a meal will be delivered, one less thing to worry about. For those who have the resources, send gifts. A well thought out gift will reinforce the fact that a family has lost something of infinite value: a son or daughter. And there are many more things we can do. Be creative to overcome current challenges, but please, do not forget that loss parents will still mourn the death of their children and need help from their loved ones. Even when isolated, we can be together.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
By: Maria Servold EPLA Editor For more than a week, the world has been turned upside-down. Many of us cannot meet up with friends, attend church, or host birthday parties. The disruption of most of our daily activities, though, does not mean that all things stop. Sadly, there are still women around the world going through the pain and loss of miscarriage. These women and their families are not only experiencing the loneliness and sadness that come from losing a child, they have to experience these feelings while also “social distancing.” Thankfully, in our social media age, it’s still possible to connect with friends, family, and even doctors electronically. Now more than ever, we are glad to be a part of the online community who helps care for women after miscarriage. If someone you know is suffering from a miscarriage during this pandemic, send them our website link and Facebook page. They can still reach out for resources, and we will still provide them. We seek to help all women and families, no matter the state of the world.  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: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor To remember the children lost to miscarriage, we must share about their short lives when given the chance. This practice does not mean forcing the conversation; we rarely jam in memories of other deceased loved ones when it doesn’t fit. We just need to treat miscarried children with the dignity they deserve. “When Aunt Andrea has her baby, she will have four kids”, my son declared as if we’d asked him a trivia question. Something rose up in my chest, my heart rushing words to my mouth. I could not leave it alone. “Yes, she will have four children, but she has had five kids. One died in her belly.” I had talked to Tucker about miscarriage before, but the concept still baffles him; he thought I was joking. As a five-year-old, he does not have a full grasp of death, and the idea that a baby would die without a discernible cause makes no sense to him. Tucker knows that babies form in a mama’s belly, but he sees the womb as a cocoon that ensures immortality. My wife and I tried to explain how prevalent and tragic miscarriage is: “Your Aunt Emily lost three babies. They were all your cousins and very special. We loved them all.” Why would we insist on telling him about his miscarried cousins? We want him and his brothers to know how precious life is at all stages, that we continue to mourn the loss of little ones even if we can’t play with them on holidays or send them birthday gifts. We want our kids to recognize the reality of miscarriage: a child was present, loved, and lost. We do not go into all the details; our little ones are not ready for that. But they will hopefully understand miscarriage better than we did growing up. As they get older, we pray they see and feel the tragedy of miscarriage so they can effectively come alongside the grieving, to both mourn the loss of those children and celebrate their short lives.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
By Stephanie Gordon EPLA Editor When I went through my miscarriage, I didn’t share the news with the world until years later. I felt like talking about miscarriage was still a silent topic – even in 2012. When I shared the news with my 86-year-old grandma, Rosemary, she told me she, too, had lost a baby four months into a pregnancy. Her loss was something we never talked about until recently. In 1962, she became pregnant with her third child. Four months later, she lost her baby. At the time of her miscarriage, she had two healthy girls. “I didn’t talk to anyone about it,” Rosemary said. “Back then, miscarriage was kept a secret and wasn’t talked about. It wasn’t a good experience.” My grandma worked in a local school system at the time of her miscarriage. She made an appointment with her doctor before going to work one morning. She was experiencing blood loss, and wanted to determine if she was losing her child. “My doctor confirmed that I was losing the baby,” she said. “Back then, there weren’t options like there are today. The laws were different. I felt so helpless.” If you have experienced miscarriage, you know that there are options for mothers experiencing loss. A few options would be to pass the baby naturally, a D&C (dilation and curettage), or a pill, usually misoprostol, to help complete the miscarriage. My grandma’s only option was to wait to pass the baby naturally. To this day, she believes her doctor wished he could have helped more. She continued to work even though she was losing her child. She remembered crying to her doctor as she waited for her baby to pass. He again told her that he could do nothing to help her. A few days after bleeding began, my grandma passed her baby during the night at home. My grandpa stayed by her side as she delivered the baby. Apparently in the ’60s, it was common practice to be admitted to a hospital after miscarriage for close monitoring. “I stayed in the hospital for a day-and-a-half,” Rosemary said. “I felt so relieved that it was all over. I went home and it was fine.” My grandma went on to tell me that back then, women didn’t talk to their doctor, family, or friends about the things they do now. This was interesting to me. Was this a generation that just dealt with the situations they were put in with little support? Were they forced to bottle up their emotions and act like nothing happened? Sort of like an “out of sight, out of mind” mentality? It felt as though it was. After my grandma’s miscarriage, her doctor said that she wouldn’t be able to have more healthy children. I’m not sure what made him think that – maybe because she had experienced miscarriage. But, two years later, she became pregnant with my mother. She birthed one last healthy child, and I am so incredibly happy she’s here.
Stephanie Gordon is a paleo food enthusiast, wife, full-time SAHM of two girls with one on the way, marketing professional, and blogger. You can follow her on Instagram at @stephgordonblog.
Can Our Social Media Apps Facilitate Sharing, Connecting, and Healing on the Topic of Miscarriage?3/2/2020 By Stephanie Gordon EPLA Editor If you’ve been following our blog for a while, you know we touch on a wide range of pregnancy loss topics. I was having a bout of writer’s block last week when I was deciding what to write about. So, I reached out to my Instagram followers. I asked them what they’d like to learn about pregnancy loss. In a matter of minutes, responses were coming into my inbox. “Sometimes I feel like my husband is sadder than I am. To me, giving birth to a 10-week-old baby and holding it in my hand for three hours was some sort of closure. I’m not saying I don’t feel sad anymore, because I still have my moments. But now that I’m pregnant again, I have been able to start getting excited for this baby while my husband is just upset we don’t have the miscarried baby in our arms.” I received many messages like this one, and many wanted to hear a husband’s side of pregnancy loss. Some wanted to know how to support their husband during loss. Coping with loss was a popular suggestion. One person wanted to hear about a woman’s experience with a first pregnancy ending in miscarriage and not knowing anything about miscarriage. Someone asked me to write a letter to women who haven’t experienced pregnancy loss. “I’ve been shamed for not having a miscarriage and almost meant to feel unworthy (and like I don’t appreciate it enough) of having a child because I haven’t gone through something like that. I want to be sensitive to the topic because I couldn’t imagine the heartbreak, but I have a hard time talking about miscarriage because I feel like there’s a group of people who have miscarried hating on people who haven’t. There’s a disconnect.” I was surprised by the variety of messages I had received about pregnancy loss, just by the simple act of reaching out. There are so many different loss stories and emotions out there, floating around social media. If you are reading this and feeling alone, I can assure you that there is someone out there who has experienced a similar loss to yours or feels a similar way you do. “My wife just miscarried our first baby. With further digging, we found out the loss was due to blood type. She has an A- blood type and I have A+. The doctors said that it (the loss) was possibly from the baby being A+, and her body thought it was an infection. She was 11 weeks along when we found out.” By simply sharing a story on Instagram, I had people I could instantly connect with on this matter. I guess that’s the beauty of bringing awareness to this topic we are so passionate about here at the EPLA. With sharing and sympathizing, there comes healing. And for those who haven’t experienced loss, they’re interested too. Let’s keep fighting the good fight, because we’re all here out of love.
Stephanie Gordon is a paleo food enthusiast, wife, full-time SAHM of two girls with one on the way, marketing professional, and blogger. You can follow her on Instagram at @stephgordonblog.
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