*Editors Note: This post is about the author’s struggle with faith, religion and personal beliefs after loss. If faith is a triggering subject for you, please proceed with caution, or simply skip this post.
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Let me start of by saying that this is not intended to bash or discourage anyone that has faith. I have been an atheist for a long time, long before my daughter died. Growing up in the household that I did, I lost my faith very early on. After endless nights praying for protection, and never having my prayers answered, I finally said I was done having faith in something that wasn’t there.
On December 28th, 2015, I miscarried at 8 weeks. My husband and I had been so excited to have a baby, Baby R. We knew I had a bicornuate uterus, but we didn’t know the extent of the septum. A septum is basically a wall of scar tissue in the uterus; if the baby fully implants on the septum there is no chance of success. In addition to a bicornuate uterus I had endometriosis. During the D&C, my doctor discovered that the septum in my uterus was more than we expected.
I had a hard time grieving for Baby R. People sent flowers and kept saying they’d pray for us. I graciously, I hope, thanked them and kept my mouth shut about not believing in prayer. February of 2016, my doctor performed a hysteroscopy to attempt to remove the septum. Unfortunately, the way my uterus is, I cannot have the septum removed. He did remove my stage 3 endometriosis that was all over my uterus, Fallopian tubes, and ovaries. He was surprised I could get pregnant in the first place with the severity of my endometriosis.
My body healed from surgery and we started the Clomid to get pregnant again. The first weekend of June I finally ovulated and had high enough progesterone to have a successful implantation. We had gone up to our favorite camping spot to get away from the stress of trying to have a baby.
The bleeding started again at 8 weeks and I rushed to the ER. My doctor put me on bed rest until the bleeding stopped. The baby was doing okay and we had to get the placental tearing to stop. She was partially implanted on the septum. I started bleeding again at 12 weeks. The baby was still okay, growing a little smaller than typical, but still had a heartbeat. My husband and I held our breath for the next 8 weeks. At 20 weeks we found out our baby would be a little girl, River Beth. We held off decorating the nursery until after the 28 weeks scan at the Maternal Fetal Medicine.
Both the specialist and my doctor said she looked perfect at 28 weeks. We stopped holding our breath and started to plan, started to celebrate. We did our maternity photos on December 18th. On December 20th, we went in for my normal two-week appointment and everything was perfect. On December 21st, I started having contractions, mild and several hours apart. I called my doctor’s office and did exactly what they said, laid down, drank tons of water, and relaxed. The contractions got farther apart and even more mild.
At 12:15 AM on December 22nd, 2016, I had a contraction so severe it woke me out of a deep sleep. It hurt and the bleeding started. I called my doctor, he was on call that night, and he said go to the hospital. He, and we, thought it was just another minor placental tear and we would do an emergency C-section. At 1:30 AM they told us there was no heartbeat for our baby girl. I had a full placental abruption, the first one my doctor has seen in his 27 years of practice.
The nursery was decorated, the car seat had been ordered the day before and would arrive on Friday; it was three days before Christmas, and our hearts shattered.
I watched as the little amount of faith my husband had left disappeared. We very quickly tired of hearing people say they’d pray for us. Prayer didn’t work. My husband had been praying the entire pregnancy that our little girl would survive. I stopped hiding my atheism.
How do you grieve without god or heaven? To be honest, it sucks. Almost everything grief related for the loss of a child mentions heaven, angels, or the child being returned to god. People constantly say they’ll pray for us, and I internally laugh.
The seven hours I held my daughter are all I’ll ever get. I don’t believe she is waiting for me in heaven. I have a hard time hiding my atheism now, especially when people say that my time will come. My time came and died.
Here is how I have processed my grief without god:
1. Write down 5 good things that happen in the day.
2. I draw or write when I can. I am writing my first book and my daughter lives in it.
3. I get tattooed with everything that reminds me of her. Loons, butterflies, mountains and rivers, and optimistic quotes.
4. I exercise, hard. I recently became a fitness instructor and plan to open a small fitness studio with my husband named: Rivers Fitness.
5. I talk about her. I don’t care if it upsets people to hear that my daughter was stillborn. I talk about her.
6. I remind myself that her death was not my fault. I did everything right. There was nothing I could have done.
There is no quick way through this pain. I’ve found embracing the hard days and allowing myself to enjoy the good ones are the only way to survive. It’s okay to move forward. It doesn’t dishonor her by being happy. Yes, I still have some really hard days, but I have hope for future children.
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Jenny met Robert shortly after moving to Spokane, WA. They both wanted children and talked names very early on. Jenny had a plan to be done having children by her 30th birthday. A few months before their wedding they decided to start trying. They knew it wouldn’t be easy with Jenny’s medical problems but didn’t know how bad it would be. After their daughter, River, died they decided that life is too short to put off doing what you love. Jenny became a certified fitness instructor and teaches group fitness classes several times a week. They plan to open a small fitness studio and name it Rivers Fitness, after their daughter. They take comfort seeing people improve their health and lives.
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Luv luv luv the fact someone else feels the way I do I have always wonder if there was really a God and I too question the fact when people say she is waiting for me on the other side if there was a god why did he take my one and only child from me I would have been the best mother I have never gotten over it and its been 18 years now
I am so glad someone out there feels the way I do. I’ve been an atheist since my daughter was born in 2010 with trisomy 13. The needless suffering of children really made me question everything I had been brought up to believe. My daughter passed a year ago, and if I had a nickel for every prayer I was promised, or every “she’s in a better place,” or “you’ll see her again,” I’d never have to work another day in my life. I am having such a hard time finding comfort. I WANT to believe. I think it would help. But I don’t. And I don’t feel comfortable talking about this without incurring the wrath of my family and friends. So thank you for speaking out, and letting me know I’m not completely alone.
Holy shit I about dropped my tablet when I saw that you live in Spokane, WA. Me too. I’ll think of River every time I am at the river now. My April would have been born this coming December too, as if I needed another reason to hate xmas. But her name is April and only is because we found out about her April 6th and found out she was gone April 30th. Thank you for this post, I have been really struggling tonight. You probably won’t ever read this because you posted it 2 years ago but I’m so grateful you wrote this.