In memory of Grace: Mother’s Day, miscarriage and Misoprostol

WARNING: this post is not for the faint of heart. You should not read it if you are 1. a coworker who may already think I come on a little too strong or just doesn’t want to know a LOT about me personally 2. a client or prospective client who wants to see my professional side 3. anyone who doesn’t like to keep it really, really real and just wants me to be all professional and stuff. 4. one of my haters (yes, I have a few. If you are among them, you can please fsck off right now. This is not for you.) Many would say that, professionally, I should not publish this. I have my reasons, and the biggest one is a belief that I owe it to other women to share a horrific experience that I don’t want them to ever have to go through. Also, more selfishly, I have never talked about this and think it is really healthy to do so. There’s a secret club out there of so many women who have suffered through miscarriage and never talk about it until they know you are in the club, too; it’s time for us to come out and support each other. Or at least for me to offer my advice, support, and prayers for you.

Allright if you’ve made it through that warning and are still here, God bless you, I love you and thank you for your support. First off, I have to say God bless my mother in heaven, who had THREE miscarriages and a STILLBIRTH before she had the perseverance to have my two older brothers and me. I cannot imagine how strong she must have been. Then, I have to say how incredibly grateful and blessed I am to have my wonderful son, Griffin, and how much my heart bleeds for women who want to have children but cannot, including one of my very best friends. Believe me, I know how lucky I am.

Oooooookay then. Finally. Here’s my story…

My son was born five and a half years ago. I am often asked why we only have one child, and every single time, it shatters my heart all over again. (So, uh, think twice before you ask people that question, K?) We, like many couples, envisioned having two children. I would have been delighted whether the second was a girl or a boy. But, the girl had a name, and her name was to be Grace. Griffin and Grace…that was the plan. Sadly, plans don’t always go how we want them to.

Just over two and a half years ago, in the summertime, I found out I was pregnant for the second time. I was, of course, delighted. Exhausted and sick as hell, but delighted. They gave me the big binder on healthy pregnancy, scheduled my ultrasound for the next week, and sent me on my happy way to tell my husband and son that we were having another baby.

They had suspected a possible miscarriage the summer before, but it was so early in the pregnancy that they couldn’t be sure. Basically, while trying not to be TOO disgusting (and failing royally at that), some tissue had fallen out of me into the toilet that looked like it might be a very small person. OK, that’s so disgusting that it’s making me laugh…stay with me here…so, uh, they wanted the ultrasound to happen right away. At 39 I was no spring chicken, and at 53, neither was my husband. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

They did the ultrasound. And the heartbeat we were so anxious to see…wasn’t there. There was a well-developed amniotic sack…with nothing visible in it. They said there was a 90%+ chance that I had miscarried, but we’d wait another week to be sure. Try going to work every day with a smile on your face knowing that you probably have a dead baby inside of you…awesome. A week passed miserably, they repeated the ultrasound…still nothing. Definite miscarriage-in-the-making.

After my sobbing subsided a little, they gave me three choices: 1. wait for the miscarriage to complete itself on its own, which could take weeks or months. In other words, keep going to work every day with a fake smile on your face, knowing that you have a dead baby inside of you that might choose to come out at any time. Mmmm…no. No thanks. Not a great option. What else you got? 2. Have D&C surgery. Mmmm…I get massively sick from anesthesia. What else you got? 3. Take a drug called Misoprostol, aka “the abortion pill”. This will cause you to miscarry at home. From my vantage point now, I don’t know WTF I was thinking at the time, except probably just wanting to be curled up, at home, in the (irony) fetal position. I chose option three, the Misoprostol.

I scheduled some time off work, picked “the day”, and crammed some tablets up my vagina periodically as instructed, every few hours. (“Not now, Griffin…mommy is busy…”) It took seemingly forever, but I started cramping and, uh, “stuff” started coming out. I’ll actually spare you the details of that…suffice it to say that it was long and protracted and disgusting and painful and heartbreaking and there are no existing words that can describe it.

When that part was done, I started bleeding. Profusely. Like, WTF am I doing at home right now,  why would they let me do this here, profusely. Soaking through pads in a matter of seconds. It was evening. I called my doctor’s office, and there was no one available to talk to me. Umm…I kinda think I’m bleeding out here…”we’ll have the doctor call you back.” Yes, thanks, that’d be swell. I called my friend and asked her to come over right away and watch Griffin so we could go to the E.R. The doctor called me back, and said yes, yes, that would be the right thing to do about now. And just as my friend arrived…the bleeding stopped.

OK, it’s over. Except, it’s not. Not everything came out. So I kept bleeding, and ended up having to go in a week later for the D&C surgery that I should have had in the first place. I had to give the hospital permission to bury my baby’s (I am sorry, I cannot bring myself to call her a fetus, and if you do I will punch you in the face) remains in a cemetery. And they gave me this, which still makes me sob, two and a half years later, every time I see it.

I have no way of knowing, of course, whether that baby would have been a boy or a girl, but in my heart, I know that was my Grace. This experience was so devastating, I was never strong enough to bounce back to the point where I wanted to try again. I wish to God I had been as strong as my mother was. So, we’ve never really tried, and we’ve never really tried not to.

And now, as I write this, I’m 42, and my husband is about to turn a very young 56. I’ve bounced back to the point where we could try again, but pregnancies at our age are risky and very unlikely to succeed. That doesn’t mean I am not open to it…I would be thrilled.

The moral of the story…if, God forbid, you are ever presented with this choice, and I pray to God that you never are, I would strongly encourage you to just have the D&C and move on. Misoprostol sucks beyond expression.

This Mother’s Day, God bless all Mothers…and all who want to be. In my view, if you ever had a baby inside of you, then you are a Mother.

Thank you for listening. Please share your experiences here if you’d like to talk about them and get some support.

 

  • Linda

    Beautiful and tragic Susie ! Thanks for sharing ! Having had two early miscarriages myself I can relate, though certainly not quite to the degree of your horrific experience. You are an amazing mom and an amazing person! Thanks again for sharing.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      OK now that I am home for a bit for lunch I can respond to your wonderful comments; didn’t want to go here at the office for obvious reasons.

      Thank you everyone so much for your love and support and for sharing your stories! It truly means the world to me, and to my husband Karl who had to read this post this morning, too.

      Linda, Thank God you persisted to have Jake and Amanda, and now you’re going to be a grandma : ) !!! So wonderful.

      Anne, Thank God you were able to adopt!

      Kristin, thank God you are you. And for all the other little Graces in the world who can make us smile. : )

      Bless you all, and Happy Mother’s Day to you.

  • Annie K

    Thanks for sharing. After 2 miscarriages, we just went straight for adoption. Happy Mother’s Day.

  • Kristin

    Wow Sue. I had no idea. I have a friend who has gone through miscarriage, hormome therapy, IVF, the works. But I’ve never experience any of this myself. Thank you so much for sharing.

    I have no children and probably never will, but if I’d had a little girl I would name her Grace too. :) Happy Mother’s Day!

  • Mary Spaight

    It’s a testament to your mom’s strength that she went on to have your brothers and you. Women of that generation were built of sterner stuff than the likes of me, I think.

    After miscarrying twice, I understand the kind of heartbreak thst you suffered. After the first one, I felt that I was a failure – that my body had betrayed me the basest way. A few weeks out, after a good talking to from my mother, I moved on. But I never forgot. A few years later, we hoped to have a third child and I miscarried again. Then I just couldn’t get pregnant. For years. We gave up. And then came John, a surprise completely. My neurosis continued in to my pregnancy with him, and I barely dared to hope that the pregancy could be viable. I took 12 pregnancy tests, or something ridiculous. Amazingly, it worked out.

    As much as miscarriage and the sometimes exhaustive measures we take to have children can be devastating, what my experience taught me is that life is tremendously fragile. And that we should treasure all the more every minute we get to spend with our children, because it’s no easy road for many. Sometimes it’s not meant to be, but when it is, in the case of a kid like Griffin, it’s spectacular!

    Happy Mother’s Day, Sue!

    Mary

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Mary, so true. It is such a testament to my Mom that she went on to have us three. She was seriously strong. Amazingly, I didn’t even know about her stillbirth until maybe ten years ago, after my Mom was gone, so I never fully appreciated and acknowledged her awesomeness while she was living.

      I absolutely understand what you are saying about miscarriage making you feel like a failure. It made both Karl and I feel that way, I think. I’m sorry to hear of your miscarriages – I had no idea but I guess kind of wondered, when John came along. What a blessing Maddie, Olivia and John are.

      I will say, yes, to your point, if anything good can come out of something like this, aside from maybe being able to help other people in similar awful situations, it’s that I truly feel like I cherish every moment with Griffin to the Nth degree, because, most likely, he’s my only baby. And I truly believe it when I tell him every night that I am the luckiest Mom in the world.

      Happy Mother’s Day to you, too, Mary.

  • Rachel

    Loved your post. A few years back, I too had a miscarriage. It began about 4 hours after a trip to Target to buy a World’s Best Grandpa t-shirt and a celebration lunch at Taco Bell (yeah, I’m fancy). I was so sad and every time I went to the bathroom and saw blood it was a reminder that my baby was gone and I would just sob. My bleeding wouldn’t stop and my Dr. advised me to go to the ER. After several hours and a few bags of fluid – they realeased me at 2am. I remember crawling into bed feeling so empty. The night before I was in that exact spot with dreams of my sweet baby and now it was suddenly gone. July 5th will forever hold a spot in my heart and I kiss my Oliver extra hard knowing how lucky I am to be his mommy.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Rach, thank you for sharing your story, too. It’s very touching, I can feel your pain, and I’m so very sorry it happened. God bless you and beautiful Oliver this Mother’s Day : )

  • bizymare

    Oh Sue, I know the pain. I’m so sorry the misoprostol was a bad experience. I had two healthy babies and then two miscarriages at 40 and drugs weren’t an option. Although I went on to have one more healthy baby, I understand the reasons why women don’t continue to try. I’ll be thinking of you this weekend.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Mare, thanks for sharing here. See, you start talking about this, and inevitably you find out that all kinds of women you know have been there…I’m truly sorry for your losses and happy that you went on to have a third healthy baby. Happy Mother’s Day!!!

  • Jennifer

    I opted for the D&C because after the initial meltdown in the doctor’s office, I wanted to know the scientific reason for my miscarriage. That process was far and away better than what you experienced, Susie. I don’t have memories of physical pain. I remember feeling very weak and powerless. All my pain was emotional. I am sorry you had to endure both.

    Thank you for saying that if you ever carried a child you are a mom. I was in full mom-mode for a full eight weeks! Every so often I calculate how old that precious baby would be. What color hair? What would it look like? Boy or girl? Maybe they would have been really sick or disabled. Maybe I would have given birth to a beast. Maybe God spared me losing that child later. Maybe God never meant for James and I to have children. I try to see it as a gift. TRY, TRY, TRY!

    I am blessed for all the wonderful children in my life. I am honored to be a part of their upbringing. I imagine there is nothing like being able to raise one of your own. It is sometimes frustrating because I know we’d be great at it. We see through others how we would do things and James and I are totally in-sync. I have the right mate, just not the right equipment. God’s gift…

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Jennifer, I love you so damn much. Your story hurts my soul and your strength never ceases to amaze me. You ARE a Mom if ever there was one; I know you love that baby that you had for eight weeks as much as any mother anywhere. And yes, you and James would be fantastic parents. As a former Catholic, I can’t understand why you don’t have a child…it honestly makes me further question my former religion.

      I do the same “how old would she be?” calculation. Or I’ll just be driving and I’ll picture what she would look like now in her car seat, or something like that.

      But, alas, there’s no point to living in what “should have been” for very long. Better to be grateful for what we have, including each other. So much love. -Susie

  • bizymare

    Sue – I have two mementos in the house that represent those two babies. They are my touchstones to those losses.

    I will say for me there has been a giant silver lining. I turned to the internet (shocking, I know) when the first one happened and found a support board. By the time the second one happened I was leading two miscarriage support boards and about 25 of us have stayed close friends in the ensuing 11 years. Some have had more babies, some have not, and some will always be moms in our hearts. We meet when we travel, and there have been some wonderful opportunities that have sprung up from these associations. We’ve attended our funerals and our weddings. I can’t imagine my life without these ladies and our actions and reactions to our m/cs bonded us for life.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Mare, thanks for adding that. I love hearing that women have come together online or off to support each other. If you still know of any active miscarriage support boards that you would recommend to people, please let us know. Thanks!

  • Lora

    Miscarriage is an odd sort of taboo in our culture isn’t it? No one talks about it until they’ve gone through it. Thank you for sharing your story. I sent it to my sister-in-law who has endured so many miscarriages (6 I think) but who also has three wonderful, healthy children too. Like your amazement with your mom, I’m also amazed and humbled by her ability to keep trying. I can’t have kids at all which is a fairly devastating thing that I try to keep neatly compartmentalized in a deep dark corner of my brain. But certain days bring it out — just as Mother’s Day does it to you. Let your husband and son take care of you extra-special this Sunday.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Lora, YES. It IS an odd taboo. Even on this story, I’m getting some people emailing me, DMing me, as though they shouldn’t comment on it publicly; though I certainly understand if people don’t want to share their own very private experiences in a public forum, some of these are people who have not been through miscarriage but basically just don’t even want to be associated with it. To each her own. Thank you for sharing yours…I’m so deeply sorry that you can’t have kids if what is what you want…I can only imagine the not-really-compartmentalized devastation of that. And I’m sure Mother’s Day is not your favorite Hallmark holiday. You take extra-special care, too.

  • Spish

    As you know, we are expecting our first in about 10 weeks–but only after years of trying and losing pregnancy after pregnancy.

    The first was the absolute worst by a long shot; we were almost 5 months along. After that, we were so damaged that we couldn’t bear to try again for a while–a decision that I deeply, deeply regret now, given all the subsequent difficulties and miscarriages. I keep thinking that, if we had only started trying again sooner, we could already have the two or three children that we’d like to have. At the time, my doc tried to tough-love through my grief and sternly said, “I know it hurts, but you have GOT to get past this and move on as soon as possible.” I wish I had. That was 2007, a week before our first wedding anniversary.

    Late last summer, and three miscarriages later (all within the last year), we took the package the hospital provided us in 2007–with gown, knitted cap, footprints, etc.–drove out into the countryside, and buried it, saying our goodbyes out loud. It sounds morbid, but every time I opened the drawer and saw that stuff, it was another stab to the heart and made me cry (as your reminder makes you cry every time you see it), so I wanted to try to really lay our grief to rest and move on. The effort and formality of the ritual really helped us with some of the emotional baggage we’d still been carrying around.

    A couple of months later, eleven days before my 42nd birthday, I had an unexpected positive pregnancy test, which was a complete fluke, since we were just (literally, within the week) about to start fertility treatment as a last resort before we gave up hope completely. My rxn was not what you’d expect; my first thought really was, “Shit,” because I just assumed I would miscarry yet again and would therefore only delay the fertility stuff by precious weeks (as you say, tick-tock indeed). Then, at about 7-8 weeks, they saw my progesterone levels dropping and put me on supplements to maintain the pregnancy. If I had not been a patient at the fertility clinic at that point, I would not have been monitored like this so early (OBs in my state typically refuse to schedule your first prenatal appt. until almost the end of the first trimester, which I think is grossly irresponsible), they never would have found the hormone problem, and I would have miscarried. Could this have been the cause of the other miscarriages? We’ll never know–could well have been my horrible job stress– but I’m damned thankful for my fertility doc because we would definitely have lost this one, too.

    Anyway, for what it’s worth, my life lesson is this: The loss of one, while so painful, is not as bad as the lifetime regret of wondering whether there was another (or others) that might have been waiting for you. It ain’t over ’til it’s over. Although we had all but completely given up, things are looking positive for us to have a healthy baby boy in 10 weeks or so (knock wood), and the risk for me is far greater than it would be for you, as you are quite physically fit and you have brought a previous pregnancy to term. The greatest risk at our age is miscarriage, but the pain will pale in comparison to the joy if you find that there’s another waiting for you (imagine if the miscarriage had happened with your first pregnancy, and you never went on to try to have G). And if it isn’t in the cards that you have another (whether by bio, adoption, or otherwise), you will still always be thankful and feel very lucky to have been able to have your one beautiful son.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Spish…wow. Thank you for sharing your story so generously here. It helps me and I know it will help others. When something inside of you dies – literally and figuratively – it’s hard to find optimism again. I’m soooo glad that you did, somehow, after everything you’d been through. Your need to bury the baby’s gown, knitted cap and footprints doesn’t sound morbid AT ALL. It sounds…perfect, necessary, and, while tragic, also beautiful. I am inexpressibly sorry for your pain.

      Your point about the healthcare system…oh man do I feel that. I most likely should have been on progesterone when I miscarried, too. And, to let it all hang out just a little bit more (at this point, WTF), I recently went on progesterone only because I badgered and insisted on a test and on getting more than “your results were low normal; make an appointment to see your doctor in a few weeks”. Thank God, or your deity of choice, that you were in fertility treatment last year!!! (Ladies reading this – demand more from your healthcare providers!!!)

      And Spish your life lesson is so perfect and I thank you for it from the bottom of my 42-year-old heart. Sadly, I knew when I changed jobs a year and a half ago that it would probably mean the end of my hopes for child #2; somehow I knew that last year would be a write-off. I, too, deeply regret not having tried harder over the past two years. But Grace *might* still be possible…it ain’t over til it’s over. And yes, I will always be so thankful for the G-man.

      Tons of prayers and love for you and your baby between now and July…

  • Charlene

    Sue, You definitely get your strength and stamina from your Mom. She was my best friend for many years, & I too did not know she had lost several babies.

    I have friends & family who have. I’m glad you shared your story as it gives a whole new insight into “miscarriage”.

    Most people that hear that word initially, & think, “that’s too bad to hear that”, & then go on with their lives never giving a second thought to a woman & her family who have lost a loved one.

    You have such a wonderful way of expressing yourself. Your Mom & I always talked about a way we were going to do something special(entrepunurist) in our lives & make lots of money. I definitely think you should write a book. You have a special gift.

    Love you. Charlene

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Charlene, thank you. It means a lot to me every time I hear from you, as close as you were to my Mom. I am frankly awestruck that she never shared her losses with you. I guess it was the stern German upbringing, or something, but…wow. And you’re right…people hear “miscarriage” and either don’t understand the depth of the pain, or just don’t even want to hear the word. My sympathies to whoever in your family has been through it. Thanks, too, for your comments about my writing. I don’t know about a book, but, I was thinking about trying to get this story published in a magazine or at least on a magazine website. That would be cool. Much love, Susie

  • bizymare

    Here’s what evolved from the message boards I used. They were immensely helpful.
    http://forums.ivillage.com/t5/Pregnancy-Parenting/ct-p/iv-parentpregz

    You can pick the situation that best fits you. I started with the loss board, then Trying to Conceive (TTC) After Miscarriage and then Conception After Miscarriage. Many women are on several boards at once as the situation is appropriate.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Thanks, Mare!!! Great resources.

  • Jennifer

    Thank you, Susie, for being the kind of friend that really cuts it open and demands it raw. This was so incredibly heartbreaking and helpful today. It is because women connect like this that the baby I lost will always somehow be alive in my heart. While terribly tragic and sad, and typing through tears, it is uplifting to know so many of us share this experience. It won’t just be a moment in time to be forgotten or insignificant. Thank you, Susie. I love you so!

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Thank YOU, Jen, and the others for being willing to open up about it. I know it’s not easy to do, but I do believe that it helps to have others hear, understand and feel your pain. Your lost baby will NEVER be forgotten or insignificant. NEVER. I love you.

  • Mel

    My miscarriage 8 weeks ago is still so fresh and painful I don’t know how I will survive this first mothers day

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Mel, your comment breaks my heart open. I am so very sorry for your loss. I want to email you to reach out, but don’t want to intrude on your privacy either, so, if we can offer more support I hope you will ask here, share your story if you’re ready (but I definitely understand if you are not) or send me an email. Or, perhaps the forums that Mare mentioned in her comment might provide some small bit of solace: http://forums.ivillage.com/t5/Pregnancy-Parenting/ct-p/iv-parentpregz. I have found great comfort in such forums in other situations. Or, perhaps, if your grief is really acute you should talk to a doctor about it. I know there is nothing I can say that will really help right now when your feelings of grief are still so fresh and raw. You will get through this – it will get better in time – much love to you.

  • Gark

    Suze – if it makes a difference, Mom’s stillbirth was after me but before KC and you. That little guy is buried in the ET cemetery – it’s been a loooong time, but Dad showed me the grave a bunch of years ago and I’m sure he could show you if you want.

    Eunie had one kid and could have called it good, since like in your situation her first was as close to perfect as one can reasonably expect (HAH!!!), but she kept trying and succeeded. I think this was due to sheer stubborness versus perseverance, but that’s a semantic thing I guess.

    Happy Mother’s day to all of you fine ladies, and to you too Eunie. I hoisted a beverage (whiskey manhattan, sweet vermouth, with an olive)to Eunie on her birthday this week as well – skipped the Winston light…

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Greg, thanks, yeah, Dad showed me the grave once, that’s when he told me about it. Did he have a name? I feel like he had a name…

  • bizymare

    Mel, I’m so sorry for your loss. My first miscarriage happened a month before Mother’s Day as well. I can definitely understand how difficult this is. Please check out the forums on iVillage or talk to someone. Some people like to speak with strangers, some people prefer friends and family but whoever you choose, please don’t keep the pain inside. I lead the boards and am willing to talk with you at any time you choose if that is something you’d be interested in.

    Mare

  • Gark

    I can’t remember his name – there is some info from Anderson’s funeral home in the middle drawer of Dad’s desk downstairs – but I think it might just say ‘Baby Spaight’…

  • Linda Neff

    Sue had alluded in a post earlier this year she would be writing about this closeted topic. Truthfully as much as I enjoy and learn from Sue in her posts, I’ve been dreading the day when my gmail account would deliver the news that Spaight Talk had a new post with keyword: miscarriage.

    The dreadful announcement from gmail arrived this week. Upon seeing the notice I plotted how, when and where I would read Sue’s post.

    So, here I am at my appointed time. In my cheerful yellow kitchen, looking at spring bursting forth outside the window and armed with my tea. And yes, as I read your post Sue, the tears and the heartbreak are still here fourteen later – for myself and all of you who have shared and offered comfort.

    Mel, my wish for you is that you can feel the love and support of the women around you here in this forum. Be gentle with yourself and take whatever time you need as you experience this significant loss. Ignore those who don’t get it and surround yourself with brave people like Sue and bizymare.

    Sue, I chose the path of silence and still do for the most part – pathetic for someone who believes in the power of women and what we can do together and for one another.

    I’m glad you wrote this post Sue. You helped me find a little part of my voice today. You created the pathway for other voices as well. It’s all of the voices shared here that have given my heart solace today – thank you.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Linda, sorry it’s taken me so long to respond…busy weekend. First of all, I’m sorry to have written something that causes dread. But, at the same time, I suppose that sometimes, taking on emotional topics or actions that we dread is a necessary part of life and healing. For example, I’ve been dreading spreading my beloved dog’s ashes for nearly five years, and after taking care of it today, finally, feel the tiniest bit…lighter. Most importantly, though, there is nothing pathetic about choosing the “path of silence.” Everyone has a different path, Linda. For me, telling the story, and talking about it with you all, is little bit cathartic; for you and others, the heartbreak may be a sacred, untouchable place, and there is absolutely nothing *wrong* with that. Another thing we all have in common is that we all have those places that no one else can see. I hope you had a nice Mother’s Day today. Much love, Sue

  • http://heholdstomorrow.blogspot.com joyce

    Thank you so much for sharing, I appreciate your honesty and realness. I myself just had 2 m/c’s within the last 6/7 months, and knowing today is Mother’s day, my first Mother’s day after trying to get pregnant and then suffering 2 m/c’s, I was dreading it in the weeks before today and decided that although I “should”, I don’t want to go to church today and see all those mothers parading their babies, all proud and such. It’s just too painful. Thank you for giving credence that I too, was a mother, AM a mother, because I had 2 children inside of me and if only a temporary mother as I told my husband this morning, I am no less a mother than those who still have their children. I only hope and pray that this “secret club of women who have had losses” would not stay secret anymore because there’s no shame in what we’ve gone through because they’re no fault of our own, the secrecy makes it seem like it’s our fault when it’s not and the medical community’s TOTAL LACK of resources for women who’ve had miscarriages is just horrible. Thank you again for speaking up on Mother’s day for mothers who really want children and hopefully will one day. God bless you.

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Hi Joyce, and thank you for reading and sharing your story. I am so terribly sorry about your loss. And I completely understand about not wanting to go to church today and see all the babies and children…don’t beat yourself up about that. It was a loooooong time after my miscarriage before I could get myself to a baby shower, even after almost three years I absolutely dread going to my OB’s office and sitting in the waiting room. You absolutely are a Mother, in your heart, where it counts the most. And I hope and pray that you will be able to have the children that you want. God bless you, too. -Sue

  • http://philgerbyshak.com Phil Gerbyshak

    Wow Sue. I thought you were amazing before. Now, I am sure you’re amazing. Wow.

    Thanks for being brave and sharing this heart wrenching story with all of us. Promise to give you a BIG hug when I see you!

    • http://www.spaighttalk.com Sue Spaight

      Thank, you Phil. I appreciate that very much. This post took me a long time work up to, and then just gushed out. A little hard to hit “publish” on, but not really. It needed to be said. -Sue

  • Marie81

    i lost a baby when i was 25 it was only 6 weeks and had nothing but a “heavy period” im 31 now and no-one remembers it but me.Its mothers day and all i read its congrats and im so happy to be a mum not one person has remembered me today. It feel like because i didnt carry them till 12 weeks it didnt matter but every year it hurts.

    • suespaight

      I know it doesn’t help much, but I know how you feel. Miscarriage is a VERY lonely thing to happen. Everyone else moves on, and you will never, ever forget as long as you live. For what it’s worth, I offer my empathy and condolences, and remember you today. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.