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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By Stephanie Gordon EPLA Editor When it comes to miscarriage, we rarely think about it happening to those in the spotlight. I know I didn’t during my miscarriage. During those moments of suffering, it’s easy to think it’s only happening to you, when sadly, it’s not. Celebrities like Beyonce, Nicole Kidman, Courteney Cox, and Carrie Underwood have all experienced miscarriage(s). With their powerful platform, they’ve helped bring awareness to miscarriage. I’ve rounded up quotes from celebrities that might help make you feel a little less alone. "There are so many couples that go through that and it was a big part of my story. It's one of the reasons I did not share I was pregnant the second time, because you don't know what's going to happen. And that was hard, because all of my family and my friends knew and we celebrated. It was hard.” – Beyonce "I had a really bad experience when I was pregnant with my third. It didn’t work out and I nearly died. So I am like, 'Are we good here or should we go back and try again?'" – Gwyneth Paltrow “We were crushed. Up till then, I thought simply because it was time and I wanted to have a baby, it would work." – Brooke Shields "I was angry at life and at God. Hopefully we can help people understand that there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's such a taboo subject, but it's a very common problem." – Giuliana Rancic “I felt like I failed, because I didn’t know how common miscarriages were, because we don’t talk about them. We sit in our own pain, thinking that somehow we’re broken. I think it’s the worst thing that we do to each other as women, not share the truth about our bodies and how they work, and how they don’t work.” – Michelle Obama “I had had several miscarriages. And when I did, they were never reported. And I would take a couple of days off and go back to work." – Barbara Walters "It kind of shook us both and took us to a place that was really dark and difficult.” – Mariah Carey “I felt so sad and guilty that I had done something wrong to lose this child.” – Shawn Johnson “I’ve always been agnostic about having kids. I don’t feel naturally maternal. I don’t feel this natural draw to motherhood. And I think my response and how sad I felt afterward surprised me. I would not wish it upon anyone.” – Meghan McCain “The grief is all-consuming. It’s all you can think about. It’s like a death is happening inside your body, and you’re also supposed to show up for your child that you have and you can’t really be sad in front of them, and you’re just confused if your feelings are okay or if they’re too dramatic.” – Whitney Port As I was researching these quotes, I knew exactly what these celebrities were feeling. We have similar reactions and emotions. Although heartbreaking, it is comforting that as women, celebrities or not, we all share nearly identical feelings when going through a traumatic, unfair experience. Please know that you are never alone. If you or someone you know needs help, the Early Pregnancy Loss Association is always here.
Stephanie Gordon is a paleo food enthusiast, wife, full-time SAHM, marketing professional, and blogger.
By: Emily Carrington EPLA Founder and President Five years ago my heart was broken and I felt stuck in despair. I had suffered two miscarriages that year and I was entering the holiday season with all of the postpartum hormones and no precious baby. Though I tried, I wasn’t sure I could ever be thankful or merry again. While the pain of my losses remains, this year I enter the holiday season with a heart of gratitude. But it is not for reasons I ever imagined. As the president of the Early Pregnancy Loss Association, these are some things I am thankful for this year:
I know not everyone is ready to be thankful. For those who still feel the weight of grief, I hope that you can find a small reprieve this holiday season. Whether it be a moment of gratitude for a loving family member or a moment of rest and peace related to a happy memory. There will be a day you can be thankful again.
Emily Carrington is a freelance writer, wife, mother, and founder of the EPLA.
By: Stephanie Gordon EPLA Editor If you have experienced miscarriage, you can understand the fear in how you go about day to day life. When I became pregnant with Eloise after my miscarriage, I was obsessed with triple checking ingredients on labels, not painting my nails, even skipping the jump rope at the gym. Sometimes, out of fear, we practice precaution with our bodies and doctor’s appointments. “Would chiropractic harm my young unborn baby?” … “Can my body handle it?” … “Can an adjustment cause miscarriage?” While this post might not focus on miscarriage or loss specifically, I do receive many questions on chiropractic and early pregnancy since my husband is a chiropractor. Precaution and concern are very much commendable, and chiropractic is very much safe during early pregnancy. I sat down with my husband, Dr. Matt Gordon, and he tells us why. Why chiropractic doesn’t cause miscarriage or wouldn’t harm the fetus: The chiropractic technique I use at our office is called the Webster technique. It is a low force and low amplitude adjustment that focuses on treating ligaments and muscles. Think of an adjustment like a yoga class. You can compare it to a direct outcome while trying to change alignment, rebalance spinal muscles and ligaments and bones and joints. It’s completely natural and focused and there’s no danger to mother or baby. Why chiropractic care during pregnancy: Many pregnant mothers I treat find relief during pregnancy, especially as their pregnancy progresses. Chiropractic significantly decreases the chance of back labor and encourages shorter labor times. Adjustments relieve lower back and hip pains, which are most common during pregnancy. If you are having morning sickness during early pregnancy, there are options for that, too. Supplementation and manipulating the stomach and diaphragm might aid the situation. This would be a positive route to consider avoiding an adverse reaction to a pill. When to take precaution: Unless you are on bedrest or if you’re experiencing a lot of vaginal bleeding, strong cramps, or premature labor, an adjustment wouldn’t be advised. If you are completely healthy, chiropractic would benefit your body and growing baby. Be sure to share all information with your doctor(s). I know that after having experienced miscarriage, fear is at an all-time high. I have experienced two successful pregnancies, and I received chiropractic care throughout each from my husband. I will always be an advocate for chiropractic care during pregnancies. So I will say, yes, go! But, I will also suggest listening to your body. Do what feels right. You know best. Share your medical information with your doctor/s so you can receive proper treatment. If you are currently experiencing the gift of pregnancy, I am wishing you lots of love, trust, and a comfortable, aligned body!
Stephanie Gordon is a paleo food enthusiast, wife, full-time SAHM, marketing professional, and blogger.
By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor “We’re pregnant,” a loved one told me enthusiastically, her smile stretching from ear to ear. Usually, I’d feel unadulterated joy that would burst out of me. But this time, that wasn’t the case. Mixed in with the excitement was that feeling - an anxiety that makes the heart beat faster. I could feel it well up inside me, swiftly ascending through my body. For a moment, I thought it would take over my face and express something I did not intend. But as that anxiety hit my throat, I squelch those feelings, put on a smile, and voiced a hearty congratulations. I didn’t want those mixed emotions; it felt unfair to my loved ones. They had a new son or daughter, a precious gift from God. It should be a time of rejoicing. However, this couple had suffered a miscarriage in the past and major pregnancy complications more recently. Their pain was a wound on my heart that may never fully heal. Later that week, I had time to reflect on those feelings. That anxiety certainly did not mean that I wanted them to stop having children. As I came to understand it, the feeling came from two related places: a fear that my loved ones would lose a child and a fear that I would lose that niece or nephew. Those are legitimate fears. While statistically, mothers are unlikely to have multiple miscarriages, the possibility remains. We just don’t know why many miscarriages happen. Still, in the moment when I learned about the pregnancy, I knew that leaning into the joy was the best response. My loved ones had not forgotten the despair of previous losses. They remembered the tears, pain, and long, broken nights. They remember those children they planned for and wanted to hold. My loved ones did not to hear my concerns; they undoubtedly had the same ones. When we are told of new pregnancies, we should delight in those children. We may rightly feel concerned that history will repeat itself, but in that moment, "take our cues from the family and share in their joy." There is a time to weep and a time to rejoice. I love my nieces and nephews that I’ve lost, and the thought of losing any more fractures my very soul. But let’s not allow past pains to diminish current and future joys.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
By: Emily Carrington EPLA Founder
In honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day on Oct. 15, we reflect on why we take time to remember our miscarried children: They lived Even if it was only for days or weeks, children lost in early pregnancy lived. From the time of conception there is a new little life inside the mother. This life is worthy of remembering. They died Miscarriage can be a strange and invisible death. It is hard to understand losing someone you never met. But whether the child was an embryo or a fetus, the loss of life is death. They are our children We created them, we sustained them, we are bound to them as parents. Many parents start to plan and dream for their kids as soon as they find out they are pregnant. Others might take a while to get used to the idea of being parents. Regardless, the family bond is real and cannot be taken away. They are loved A mother’s love needs no explanation. She holds her children in her heart, even when she can’t hold them in her arms. They are missed We don’t remember our children for only one month or one day of the year. We miss them throughout the year when we are reminded of their absence. Remembering our babies fosters healing, community, dignity, and peace In my own experience, taking time to remember miscarried children has allowed for so many benefits. By stopping to reflect on the lives of each of my children I have experienced healing and comfort and I have learned to live with my grief. Remembering my children has also fostered community. I have had the opportunity to come together with other women and families who have walked through loss. Remembering my children also gives their lives dignity, a dignity they surely deserve. And finally, I have found peace as I move forward in life. One of my biggest fears early after my losses is that my children would be forgotten. But as I take time each year to remember my little ones I see that I need not fear, I carry them with me always. Emily Carrington is a freelance writer, wife, mother, and founder of the EPLA.  By Maria Servold EPLA Editor At the Early Pregnancy Loss Association, we have been glad to see an recent increase in public figures and celebrities sharing their miscarriage stories. Just a few years ago, it was rare for miscarriage to appear in the news, let alone to have someone like Meghan McCain write about her experience in the New York Times. We are glad to see that the conversation around miscarriage is becoming more open, as we think sharing stories about loss is important to help women and families heal. This week, TV star James Van Der Beek shared that he and his wife are expecting their sixth child after suffering several miscarriages. Not only is it encouraging that he discussed the losses his family has suffered, an Instagram post he made highlights other important aspects of handling miscarriage. First of all, it’s encouraging to see a couple who has only been married since 2010 so open to welcoming new life - they already have five children aged 9 and under. Many Hollywood couples don’t stay married for more than a few years, and many don’t have children, let alone six! The Van Der Beeks are setting a great example of welcoming children into the world, even if it means lots of them, and even if it means suffering losses along with live births. In an article about the couple’s pregnancy announcement, Van Der Beek is quoted as saying he and his wife were open in telling their children about the miscarriages they suffered. When he announced the pregnancy on “Dancing with the Stars” recently, he said his children could see that their parents were upset, so they were honest about what happened to the babies they lost to miscarriage. On this blog, we have highlighted the importance of letting children know if they have other siblings who aren’t with them on earth. In his Instagram post about their current pregnancy, Van Der Beek said they wanted to share their story... “in an effort to chip away at any senseless stigma around this experience and to encourage people who might be going through it to open themselves up to love and support from friends and family when they need it most.” October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, so stories like this from public figures are helpful in expanding the conversation about miscarriage. If you want to share your own story, email us at miscarriagecare@gmail.com
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: Emily Carrington EPLA Founder I have lost three babies in early pregnancy, and I have had one healthy pregnancy. When I was pregnant with my daughter the first trimester was plagued by when. My thoughts were consumed with things like: when I miscarry, when this baby dies, when they can’t find the heartbeat… Loss had been my only experience, and I could not believe this pregnancy would end any other way. Fast forward three years and I have a healthy two year old, and I am pregnant again. This time I am not so bleak, but I am still haunted by my reality. I can now imagine a full term baby and a pregnancy ending in a successful birth because I now believe that pregnancy can end well. But everything is haunted with an *IF. When I was pregnant with my daughter I couldn’t even imagine these things. I couldn’t think about holding her or bringing her home. It all felt impossible. Now that part is better. I can imagine this baby, but every dream comes with an asterisk. Maybe we will announce the gender at Christmas.* *IF I am still pregnant. I need to get some maternity clothes from my sister.* *IF we make it out of the first trimester. I can’t wait to enjoy spring with my newborn* and three-year-old daughter. *IF this baby comes. The baby can sleep with us, then in the playroom, and then the kids will share a room. *IF we have a baby. I was surprised by the *IF. I thought I would either sink into my previous fatalist mood of all doom or I would be completely okay. I was not expecting this middle ground, oscillating between my previous realities: the baby will die and the baby will live. But here we are and I am trying to give myself space to feel all of my feelings, the happy, the sad, the scared, and the unsure.
Emily Carrington is a freelance writer, wife, mother, and founder of the EPLA.
 By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor
I kept the door shut. I felt like an impostor and the less I interacted with others, the less likely they would find out. Sometimes, I would keep the lights off; if I slouched behind my computer, maybe no one else would know I was there. Teaching college kids humbled me, and my anxiety didn’t go away even after a few months of doing it full time. Knock Knock Knock I couldn’t hide for long. My mentor was at the door, checking in on her first-year colleague. I couldn’t let her know. What if she thinks she made a mistake in hiring me? I was young, scared, and alone. “How’s it going,” she asked. Convicted, I couldn’t outright lie.“Not bad…but I feel like every day is a struggle, like I’m learning along with my students.” My mentor, who had taught for more than 30 years, smiled and said something that acted like a balm to my troubled heart: “I know exactly how you feel. My first year of teaching, I stayed one day ahead of my students. They never knew.” We laughed over stories of jotting down notes moments before class started and struggling to answer questions with confidence, even though we knew the answers. She had experienced my fears and come out on the other side. I wasn’t alone; in fact, I wasn’t even that unique. Sharing our stories can be cathartic for us, but it also comforts others who have fresh wounds or have inadvertently opened old ones. Sometimes, we feel alone and too scared to tell anyone about it. In reality, other people have probably been through something similar. But hearing their stories helps us deal with our own emotions, whether feelings of grief, fear, anxiety, or pain. On October 15 of last year, we launched Hope Blooms, our digital publication meant to share your stories and remember your children. In almost a year, we have cried, grieved, and rejoiced together. One thing we know for sure through this process: if you have struggled with miscarriage and all the emotions that come with it, you are not alone. You need to know that all the guilt, emotional turmoil, pain, anger, confusion, and grief you feel are not unique to you, and you need not shoulder that load by yourself. It’s likely your family, friends, and co-workers have experienced something similar and are willing to help. Sharing our stories can be cathartic for us, but it also comforts others who have fresh wounds or have inadvertently opened old ones. Your stories have taught us a lot about miscarriage and grief, and our community of care continues to grow. In year two of Hope Blooms, we want to hear more of your stories. We know that not everyone is a writer. That’s OK; our editorial board will help you express yourself in a way that accurately reflects your experience. Your story matters, not just to you and your family, but to others who have wrestled with miscarriage grief. If you have miscarried or are a loved one of someone who has, we encourage you to write your story. We want to hear it and would love to share it with our community. If nothing else, let us remember your beautiful children who may be gone but will not be forgotten. Send your stories to miscarriagecare@gmail.com or send us a message on Facebook. Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University. By: Stephanie Gordon EPLA Editor Hello! I’m Stephanie Gordon, and I am a new blog editor for the Early Pregnancy Loss Association! I am a resident of Hillsdale, Michigan. I am married to my husband, Matt, who’s a chiropractor. Together we have two young girls, Eloise (5), and Flora (3). I am also one in four. I experienced miscarriage in 2012, and it shook me to my core. After experiencing miscarriage, I continuously told those around me that I needed to be a voice and to get involved. No one was talking about miscarriage, even in 2012. Not long after my miscarriage, the EPLA was developing, and I reached out to Emily during the early years of the organization and exclaimed my interest of getting involved. I wanted to be there, even in some small way, for other women. I helped design and publish the organization’s website, and I am now here sharing my stories, and stories from others. Here is my miscarriage story. None of this was planned – or part of the plan at that moment in time. Life happened quickly, and I remember seeing that positive pregnancy test. Honestly, the plus sign made me nervous for many reasons, but I knew it’d be OK. Days and weeks passed, and I quickly fell in love with the idea of becoming a mom and growing a human inside of me that was formed out of love. Matt and I were going to enjoy the next 10 months of just us. We knew life was going to change a lot, but we were excited. I wasn’t ignorant to the fact that miscarriage was a possibility, as it is with every pregnancy. I took great care of myself. I ate healthy. I continued to CrossFit and made my coaches aware of my condition. I took my prenatal vitamins every day, and limited caffeine intake. I was doing everything right to grow a healthy human. I was about nine weeks along when one day I remember going to pee and noticed blood. Oh, no... It’s OK, spotting is normal. I knew deep down something wasn’t right, but I tried to ignore it and went about my day. I shared the news with Matt, and he wasn’t too alarmed. Spotting during pregnancy is completely normal (I actually spotted with both of my girl’s pregnancies, too). A few days passed, and the amount of blood I was losing was increasing. Matt and I made the decision to check on myself and the baby. I called my doctor at University of Michigan from bed, and they asked me to come to triage immediately. I sat cold and silent the whole way to the hospital. I was scared, and I saw it on Matt’s face, too. We arrived at U of M, and I was wheeled to triage. I filled out some paperwork, and was admitted to a room. I changed out of my clothes and into a gown. As I got undressed, I noticed I was losing more blood. I sat in a bed and waited for the doctor. They took my vitals – all was well – or so they made it seem. They also took a sample of blood to measure my hormone levels. The young doctor asked routine questions like, “when’s the last time you peed? When was your last period? Is this your first pregnancy? Do you have a history of miscarriages?” The doctor reassured me that everything was going to be OK, and nurses kept asking how I was feeling. I was honestly sliding into a deep depression. Here I was sitting on a white pad, bleeding. Losing my baby. After three hours, I was told I needed a vaginal ultrasound. The tech turned the lights off as I laid on the table. She inserted the wand, and there was our baby. I saw Matt’s face and his facial expression. He knew, but he tried to put on a hopeful face. She took lots of pictures and she didn’t say a word, nor did she answer any questions. She was silent. She removed the wand… so much blood. Tears ran down my face. I was wheeled back to triage and waited for the doctor to come back with results. My doctor came in and sat down. I could tell she was a little nervous to share the news. There was no smile. She started by saying my hcG levels were barely at 7,000 – when I should be at a minimum of 10-20,000. I was hit with immediate sadness even though I was already expecting the worst. Tears started streaming, again. I remember her putting her hand on mine. “This pregnancy is not viable. Let’s make an appointment with your doctor on Monday morning to talk about options,” she said. There’s something really hard about letting go of something you love so much. I knew as soon as the pills were inserted, that was it. I would no longer have my baby. She left the room and Matt and I lost it. He just held me. I remember putting on my clothes and my dirty underwear – another horrible reminder. I don’t even know how I got to the car; I was so numb. I called my parents as we left to tell them we lost the baby. The drive home was full of silence, quiet tears, and broken hearts. My baby was dead inside of me. Monday slowly came, and I met with my doctor. We got one last ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage. Our baby was measuring eight weeks, so it hadn’t been long since the baby died. We talked about options as far as how to “take care of the situation.” Since my pregnancy wasn’t too far along, I was given the option to take what’s called Misoprostol. This option allowed me to insert four pills into my vagina, and my body would go into labor about 4-5 hours later. The other option was a D&C – dilation and curettage - which means dilating the cervix to remove all contents of the uterus. My doctor recommended taking the pills at home, so it could be a private experience that I could do with Matt by my side. I decided to take the Misoprostol at home. I wanted to wait until the weekend to take the pills. I wasn’t ready to let go of my baby that was inside of me, even though it wasn’t alive. There’s something really hard about letting go of something you love so much. I knew as soon as the pills were inserted, that was it. I would no longer have my baby. We both said a long prayer and hung on to those last moments. I tried to insert the pills myself, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go. Matt, bless his heart, was able to do it for me, both of us crying the entire time. We laid in bed and waited. All I could do is cry and hang on to my belly. After three hours, I started having cramps, but nothing too major. I was starting to feel almost ill, and my stomach hurt. I laid on Matt’s chest and he read me books. Four hours in, I felt sick to my stomach – a side effect of Misoprostol. After emptying my bowels, I had strong uterine cramps coming on, and I was quickly losing everything from my uterus. It was all happening so fast, and it hurt. Going into this, I knew I couldn’t flush anything down the toilet. I saved everything that exited my uterus. I was determined to give my baby a proper burial. There was a point in time that I fainted on the toilet. Hours 4-6 were torture. I hated every second of it. I was hot and sweaty. I was dizzy. I had just lost my baby. I wondered why I had opted for this option. Never again, I thought. No one really tells you how it’s going to be or how it’s going to happen. I think because it’s different for everyone. My experience with the Misoprostol had its ups and downs. I was happy to go through the procedure at home. I was happy I was able to keep my baby, and I was happy I wasn’t in a hospital. The downside is that I experienced major side effects. I hated how it felt. I had zero control – basically I was giving birth over a toilet, which just sounds sad and depressing. I hated that it upset my stomach. Also, I had to get multiple blood tests afterwards to make sure my hCG hormones were slowly declining. It wasn’t just a one and done thing. I think that’s what made it so hard: weekly blood tests to make sure I was officially no longer pregnant were utterly depressing. The following Mother’s Day, Matt bought a crab apple tree to remember our baby. He also wrote me a beautiful card that read, “Yes, you are a mother. Yes, you lost like a mother. Yes, you loved like a mother.” Those words will always stay with me. That day, we planted the tree and buried the baby underneath the tree. It was beautiful, and I finally felt like I had some sort of closure. I had a long, hard year after that miscarriage. I cried a lot. My sadness turned to anger. I despised every other mother I saw, especially those who got pregnant and didn’t care for their bodies. Essentially, I was jealous, and that also made me mad. It’s not like me to feel that way. It’s hard to explain the emotional torture from miscarriage. But, after that one year anniversary, something changed. I was OK. The sadness never really left (I don’t think it ever does), but somehow I came to terms with what had happened. After that anniversary, we were ready to try again. I was scared and worried we would have a hard time conceiving or keeping a pregnancy. That first pregnancy after miscarriage is terrifying – as I think they all are after experiencing miscarriage. I spotted during Eloise’s pregnancy – and even Flora’s pregnancy. But, I birthed two healthy, beautiful girls. I am forever grateful for the baby I never met. That baby showed me what a mother’s love truly is. It is beautiful, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I always dream and wonder who they were and who they would’ve been. Essentially, I was jealous, and that also made me mad. It’s not like me to feel that way. It’s hard to explain the emotional torture from miscarriage. Whenever I feel a little sad, I go visit the crab apple angel tree, and tell my baby I love them so. I don’t ever wish miscarriage on anyone, and I hope more mothers share their experiences with miscarriage. I hope that if you are going through a miscarriage, or have experienced one, that you’ve had someone to turn to – to lean on. It’s not fair. But, know that you are loved. You love your baby, and you will get to meet them one day. Isn’t that a beautiful thought? It will all be OK - eventually. You are strong, and absolutely no less of a woman or mother.
Stephanie Gordon is a paleo food enthusiast, wife, full-time SAHM, marketing professional, and blogger. |
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