By Gina Onorevole

(Editor’s note: this article does touch on faith, keeping positive, and hopes for future living children; if these are sensitive topics for you, please read with caution.)

Since October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I chose to be brave and share my story today. Writing everything down during this time has been comforting for me. I hope that by sharing my story, it brings comfort to others, lets them know they’re not alone, and opens the door for other women looking for support. So here it goes…

2019 was most definitely a challenging year for me. I don’t want to say it was a “terrible” year, because you have to be grateful for what you have… there were blessings in 2019, and I certainly cannot discount them. However, I think it’s fair to say the dark days outnumbered the sunny days by far.

I thought 2019 started perfectly when I received a positive result on my pregnancy test. My baby was conceived on New Year’s. How much better of a start can you get? I even had a vivid dream, where it was my baby shower; I was in our community clubhouse, wearing pink, and I was telling people I was due September 25th. Ironically, that was actually my due date.

However, my joy was short-lived. My levels were not rising, the pregnancy wasn’t progressing, but there still was small progress. I remained hopeful. My baby was like The Little Engine That Could.

Unfortunately, on February 10th, I naturally miscarried at 4:30 am. When I went for my morning scan right after, I started sobbing when the doctor told me my uterus was empty. I knew — but hearing the confirmation hurt. Over the next few days, I cried, I slept…Mother Nature blessed us with a snowstorm, so luckily I had some time off of work to recover physically, mentally, and emotionally. I remained disconnected from social media. Not that I didn’t care about anyone or care to see what was up in their lives but I needed to protect and heal my heart and I needed to find joy in my life outside of my current situation. When you’re struggling and feeling down, you have to take care of yourself. Without doing so, how can you start to recover? The ones who really love you and are on your side will understand.

During that snowstorm, while resting, I decided to take a proactive approach. I read books, I researched what I could do to prevent the likelihood of future miscarriages… what foods to eat, what supplements to take to improve my egg quality, what products to avoid… I totally revamped my personal care and household cleaning regimen and opted for natural products that were free of phthalates and parabens, and any other harmful chemicals. I highly recommend It All Starts With the Egg by Rebecca Fett.

“2019 is off to a rough start”, I remember telling friends. It was only February…

In mid-April, after the sight of a vivid rainbow, encouragement from a dear friend, and believing it was a sign, I took a pregnancy test and received a bright positive on April 16th. Two bright red lines. My due date was right before Christmas. It was going to be a very special Christmas! My Father would be a Grandfather for the first time, and the baby could even be born on or around his birthday, December 14th, a perfect Christmas gift for him! My heart was filled with joy that I have never experienced before. Although I had just miscarried two months ago, I remained cautiously optimistic.

This time was different. I felt the symptoms: the fatigue, the queasiness, the nausea, and food aversions. My levels skyrocketed. Eventually, we saw a beautiful heartbeat on several occasions — there was life. Things looked and SOUNDED promising, based on my doctors’ words during each appointment. I had another vivid dream. My aunt who is in heaven told me “it’s a baby girl.”

On June 4th, almost at the end of my first trimester, my world was shattered and things took a very sudden, quick turn for the worst. I miscarried again. I won’t post the details of that itself, but I can assure you it was tragic. I’ll never forget calling Mom and her crying “No, no, no!” over the phone. I’ll never forget, walking into the doctor’s office, holding a bag that held a container with my baby, clutching it to my chest. As I laid down for my ultrasound, mom doing the same — holding her grandchild. Just like in February, when it was confirmed that my uterus was empty, I sobbed uncontrollably. This time, much harder. Although I knew this going in, hearing those words was too much to bear. I didn’t want to accept that this was it. My pregnancy was over.

It’s a day I will never forget as long as I live. I never knew such pain, heartache, and devastation. I had this plan, this vision, possible names, colors, themes, goals, and dreams for our future and our baby, and it was all suddenly shattered and unexpectedly taken away. We would never know what life would be like with our baby. We would never meet our baby. I was writing a story, and I didn’t get to finish it. The pen was stolen from me. The darkest and saddest days followed…

I didn’t go to work for over a week. I couldn’t face anyone or speak to anyone. I didn’t have the strength to respond to texts with words. I didn’t want to not answer, so I just sent heartache and crying emojis. They were also friends that I had not yet called to tell I was pregnant, and afterward, I didn’t really feel like calling them to fill them in. It is no indication of my love for them; it was just too painful. This was my second loss in less than four months. I was crushed. I cried every single day. I was numb. It just seemed so unfair. With 85% of subsequent pregnancies resulting in a live birth after a miscarriage, with a 98% chance of a successful pregnancy after hearing a heartbeat, I thought the odds were in our favor. I repeatedly asked, “Why?”

When I finally mustered the strength and courage to return to work, I cried to my colleagues and my principal. I was afraid I’d break down in front of my students. Surprisingly, I didn’t. But instead, they were the ones who cried. They knew something was up. On the last day of school, they didn’t want to go. I hugged them, consoled them, and wiped their tears. I felt guilty for not shedding tears of my own. I needed the summer to recover. and I felt bad because my eagerness to leave for the summer had absolutely nothing to do with them at all. I had such a great bond with this group, more than I had anticipated.

After coming back from vacation in early July, I literally broke down on my doctor’s voicemail. “Can someone please get back to me with these results?” I begged. “I just want to know what happened to my baby,” I said in between sobs. The following morning, it felt like wounds were torn open again when we finally received results: there weren’t any chromosomal issues and she was a baby girl.

So many questions lingered. What happened to our baby? Was it my fibroids? If it wasn’t chromosomal, what went wrong with our little girl? Did my body fail me with a healthy embryo? Sixteen vials of blood were taken from me a few days later, to hopefully get some sort of answer. I also became angry at my previous doctors for seeing these fibroids on my scans over the years and not recommending anything to be done about them; not thinking they would interfere with pregnancy.

I again took a break from the online world. Seeing other people’s joy made me happy for them, but it was also painful. My days consisted of waking up to knots in my stomach every day. I’d emerge from my sleep and reality would hit, and it would hit hard. I spent a lot of time by myself since school was out and my husband was working. Yes, there were once in a while beach days and get-togethers with friends, but the heartache was still there with me. People may not have heard from me as much, or at all, but again, when your heart is broken to this extent and the days are so gray, you need to put yourself first if you want to heal. I spent my time visiting Mom and Dad, exercising, taking long walks. I researched clean eating recipes. I sought out an acupuncturist through my doctor. I would go to the beach by my house, but seeing everyone with their children made me sad. Tears would form, behind my sunglasses.

I created a memorial for our baby in one of our spare bedrooms. I placed greeting cards I received during my pregnancy, my baby Lee journal, a bunny from Mom, a candle, and a photo frame with her ultrasound. Quite often, I would talk to her picture. I would pick up her picture, hold it to my heart, rock her, and cry. I’d often say, “I miss you so much, baby girl. I’d do anything for you to be here. I wish you didn’t have to be taken away.”

I also made a garden in honor of our baby girl. I placed a pink angel solar light (Coincidentally, that light reflects on the ceiling of our second-floor bedroom as we sleep at night) and some heart-shaped stones, along with some angel plants and a mini rose bush. Those things provided comfort to me. I wanted my baby girl to know we will never ever forget her. We loved her every second of her life, and we will love her for every second of ours.

One thing I did learn is that I have such an amazing support network, before, during, and after my loss. People who are praying for us, people who are on our side. Friends knew how scared I was since I miscarried in February. Just “good luck at the doctor today”, “do you need anything?”, or “how are you feeling?” went a long way. One of my childhood friends was amazingly able to answer no matter what concerns or questions I had, as there were always a ton. Some coworkers even prayed with me, as I cried. After our loss, there were days when I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. There was a hole in my heart that wasn’t going away.

My fourth-grade team sent a surprise to the house. My neighbors from the complex where I used to live sent me a bouquet of (my favorite) sunflowers- to cheer me up. A close friend sent a card that made me cry, but it was a cry of comfort.

Another friend cried with me because she saw just how devastated I was. She said, “I’m not going to sugarcoat things… but this is unfair.. and you’re so brave. Every time, you get back up, no matter how many times you get knocked down… and I wish you didn’t have to go through this…. just PLEASE don’t give up.” My sister in law gave me an Angel- as a sign of peace, love, and hope for the future, to let me know I’m loved and supported. I placed the angel by the baby’s memorial. Another close friend sent a figurine of a young child, holding a sign that says “hope.” I placed that by the memorial also.

Someone sent a message to my husband- we forget this affects dads to be too- there were messages from friends, constantly checking in… offering to come to the ER, asking about doctor appointments; test results, sending motivational quotes, and a friend, offered me a special handkerchief, sharing her experience of how it helped provide peace and comfort during her pregnancies and during the delivery of her daughters.

I can say “thank you” to all of these people for supporting me during my darkest days, but those words aren’t even close to being strong enough to show how forever grateful I am. Their words and actions will impact me for as long as I live. I know that when these people are going through tough times and are hurting, I will be there for them just like they were there for me.

While it can be a challenge having quite a few people around me who are currently pregnant, I am nothing but happy for these women. They are bringing life into this world. It’s a beautiful journey, but it also can be a scary one. YES, you can be happy for someone and at the same time be sad and worried for yourself. It’s OK to cry when you’re alone. It’s OK to feel that sense of isolation. I choose to look beyond my own circumstances to be supportive of them and remind myself that most of these women had their own challenges and heartaches. Their journey wasn’t easy either; it took them a while to get to where they are today. I choose to tell myself, “If they can get pregnant, I can too.”

I won’t say where I am in my journey right now, not because it’s a secret, because it is so fluid.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s that anything can change at any time in a heartbeat. Nothing in life is guaranteed, not even tomorrow, and we all take that for granted sometimes. However, I have faith. I choose to remain optimistic, although it’s not easy. I don’t know when our time will come, but I believe my husband and I, someday in the future, will have a living child that we will love and cherish forever.

I know I’m not alone. The more I talk about my heartaches, the more stories people share with me. There were people I believe I crossed paths with for a reason. We comforted each other with our own stories and words of support. They say 1 in 4 women experience a miscarriage at some point in their lives. There certainly are too many of us. We are a sisterhood – a sisterhood we didn’t ask to be a part of.

Losing a baby changes you. It changes you forever. I’ll never be the same.

Please don’t tell us “oh, you can try again.” We can lose again too. Experience heartbreak again. End up in excruciating pain, in the ER, losing a ton of blood and experiencing such intense heartache again too, knowing that the baby you’ve grown so attached to is gone forever.

Please don’t ask women when they’re “having babies.” Some choose not to, some WANT to but don’t know when they will, or if they ever can.

Please don’t say “well, at least you can get pregnant.” My end goal is a live birth — to bring a baby into this world. Getting pregnant is only the beginning. No one’s goal ends at merely getting pregnant.

Please don’t say, “This happens to a lot of people…” or “this is common.” Colds are common. Common sounds nonchalant; miscarriages are far from that. Besides, knowing other people are suffering along with me isn’t going to take any pain away from any of us.

But what CAN you say?

“I don’t know what to say, but I love you and I’m here for you.”
“Please don’t give up.”
“You’re not alone.”
“I am going to help you get through this… whatever that looks like, whatever that sounds like, I’m going to help you.”

These are things that people told me — things that resonated with me — things that people did to help lift me up.

If you’re struggling like me, take care of yourself, and yourself first. Don’t compare your journey to others. Eat well, get good sleep, and minimize stress as much as possible. Please try to stay positive. There will be good bad days. I know personally that the struggles with infertility and pregnancy loss can leave you feeling really isolated. But remember you are not alone.

The pain doesn’t go away. I will always feel the pain of my losses, especially my last. But I have also exhibited strength I’ve never known before that I have. Through my journey, I dealt with heartbreak from my losses and tried to calm my anxiety about becoming pregnant again. However, I must remember how blessed I am, mainly for my family, friends, and husband. I cannot imagine going through this without their support. I am incredibly grateful to be a wife, to have a rock of a husband, my parents who are always there, and friends who support me unconditionally. If we have no children, I will still be a very lucky girl. But I have faith that one day, someway, somehow, we will be a family of three with a living child.

________________________________

Gina lives with her husband, Michael, in West Milford, NJ. Gina and Michael have been married since November 2017. They enjoy hiking, kayaking, cooking, and taking road trips together. Gina has been an elementary school teacher for 19 years. A “mom” to many students, she and her husband yearn to have a child of their own. Gina suffered two miscarriages — in February and June of 2019. In a world where resources seem difficult to find, and where a grieving mother may not know where to turn for support, Gina hopes to help others by sharing her story so other women can know they have resources, they have support, and should never have to suffer alone.

• Author
• Recent Posts

Guest Post

This is a Guest Post. If you have something to say about being a Still Mother, Father, or Grandparent, we'd love to hear it! Check out the Get Involved tab on our website to learn how to submit a guest post of your own.

Latest posts by Guest Post (see all)

• Infertility vs Cancer - April 19, 2021
• Loss is Not a Dirty Word - December 7, 2020
• What I Wish I Could Tell the Non-Loss Community - November 17, 2020