A Gift for Mom! 🤍

From the Nurse Praying For You On the Day of Your D&C

4 Minute Read

By Ann-Marie Ferry

Sad nurse — Syda Productions/Shutterstock.com

I walk in through the glass double doors and flash my badge to the lady behind the desk. Head down the hall and clock in, then up the stairs to the Same Day Surgery Unit. Once my things are put away, it is off to look at the schedule board.

I stop. My stomach falls. There you are in black marker. Twelve-week miscarriage for D&C. We have not met before, but already I am grieving with you.

It is not long before you arrive. I know you are in shock as you walk up to the registration desk. I have seen that hollow look before. You carry with you a dear and precious child. And you cannot believe all this is real.

RELATED: A Mother’s Love Can’t Be Measured In Weeks

I walk you to your room, look you in the eyes and say, “I am sorry for your loss.” You nod.

And I wish there were more I could say . . . something that would help.

This cold, sterile place must be frightening to those who do not work here. This is not where you and your baby should be. You both should be at home. You should be choosing what to have for breakfast based on cravings and the anti-nausea factor. No. You should not be here in this little room with white walls and a creaky, metal stretcher.

My hope is, that a soft smile and kind words will help to make this place a little warmer. I wish I had more than that to give to you.

I leave the room so you can change. As I go, I say, “You are my number one patient today.” I hope you know this is true. I may have hernias, gallbladders, and ACLs to care for, but you are on my mind every step of the day.

The surgery team soon comes for you. You are surrounded by lots of people and lots of questions. In the chaos of it all, I see you kiss your partner. I see the courage and resolve you hold. The anesthesiologist asks if you are ready. You say yes and bravely off you go.

RELATED: We Lost Our Baby at 17 Weeks Pregnant

When you return you are dizzy, woozy, and in pain. With the right tricks, we have you feeling quite a bit better in no time.

This is the pain I can fix, but there is another pain I am worried about.

Before you leave, I ask you if you would like information about support groups. You see, today is the only day I will get the opportunity to take care of you, but there will be many other days you will need care.

This loss is great. The pain of losing your baby will need an abiding care.

Your partner goes for the car and a few minutes later, we get you into the wheelchair. Down the elevator. Through the lobby. You are leaving the hospital, without your baby. I know the incredible emptiness of your arms feels tangible.

As the car pulls around to pick you up, I say a silent prayer, Comfort her.

RELATED: 5 Things to Say to a Woman After a Miscarriage

Dear loss mama, it is my hope that on the day of your D&C, this was the kind of care you received. I know it is not always the case. Nurses and doctors, just like the broader culture, can be awkward and scared of grief. It often takes our own losses, to teach us what to say and not to say to a grieving mother. No matter what your story, please hear this.

You are strong and brave.

You ARE a mother.

It truly was my privilege to take care of you today.

Originally published on Sharing Magazine

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Ann-Marie Ferry

Ann-Marie is a nurse based in the Midwest. She and her husband have been married for close to a decade. She has three spunky girls and one sweet little boy in heaven. After nine months of hyperemesis, hemorrhage, and pre-term labor, her first pregnancy resulted in a full-term baby girl. Kuyper, her second child, was stillborn during his second trimester in 2013. Her third pregnancy concluded six weeks early resulting in a NICU stay. Although, still complicated and high risk, she would describe her fourth and final pregnancy as a redeeming experience.

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

In: Grief

In his last years, Dad spent his days in a chair by the big picture window. From there, he could survey all the comings and goings of the ranch. He watched the weather, the dogs, and our Arabian stallion, Axum, galloping through the pines and calling to the mares across the hill. Occasionally, Dad would alert us that a certain dog had escaped or that a storm was coming in. He was looking out. He was keeping track. He needed help to move even a few steps. At night, my husband or I cleaned him, dressed him, and tucked him into...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

In: Grief

Young woman holding red umbrella walking next to canola field

Outside, the sky hung in a thick, dim slab, like a ceiling over the trees that stood crooked in the wind. Not the fresh spring breeze we’re used to in Florida, but the damp, cold kind that makes you pull your coat together with tight fists. I got there right on time, parked in a front spot in the almost-bare lot, and slid my violet boots with fluffy pom-poms onto the asphalt. I braced for the impact of the frigid air and tucked my body inward as I did a little hop-jog into the pub. Once inside, I let out...

Keep Reading

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

In: Grief, Loss

I lay in bed this morning, sweet boy. It is Saturday. Seven of them since you left. Half awake, I turned over and saw Grief staring right at me. She pounced then stood, haughty, on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. She yelled that she would be close today. If she feels like it, she might even be relentless. She is cruel. You were the reason, sweet boy, for me to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. Actually, every morning you were my purpose from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment they shut. I knew on...

Keep Reading

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief

Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living

Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief

Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother. People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way. I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief

Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

We Grieve Because We Loved

Grief

We Grieve Because We Loved

To the Bereaved Dads: Thank You For the Ways You Love Your Family

Fatherhood

From the Nurse Praying For You On the Day of Your D&C

RELATED: A Mother’s Love Can’t Be Measured In Weeks

And I wish there were more I could say . . . something that would help.

RELATED: We Lost Our Baby at 17 Weeks Pregnant

This is the pain I can fix, but there is another pain I am worried about.

RELATED: 5 Things to Say to a Woman After a Miscarriage

You ARE a mother.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Ann-Marie Ferry

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

From the Nurse Praying For You On the Day of Your D&C

And I wish there were more I could say . . . something that would help.

This is the pain I can fix, but there is another pain I am worried about.

You ARE a mother.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like