I had been at a women’s night with a church most of the evening. With sickness gone and raging hormones of the first trimester subsiding, I was just starting to feel myself again. I swung my legs over my husband and cuddled up in the recliner with him. “Oh honey, help me up I think I peed my pants,” I said as I rolled off and ran to the bathroom.

Only it wasn’t an accident. It was blood. So much blood soaking and pouring.

I had a 6x4cm subchorionic hemorrhage and the rest of my pregnancy was full of anxiety.

Something changes in you when you see blood pouring down to the floor. And blood pooling all over the hospital bathroom. Pads are useless and towels have to do the trick.

My Isla was born full-term, a healthy baby girl, praise be to God.

Isla is a year old now and this past March, we captured the best video of our four “bigs” trying to unriddle the question “pink or blue?” They cheered and there were tears when they finally realized we were adding our seventh (and hopefully a boy) to our big, blended, beautiful family.

When I started to bleed the next day at six weeks with my most recent pregnancy, I didn’t panic as bad as I had before. I went to the ER and they confirmed I had another subchorionic hemorrhage but the baby was OK and it didn’t appear it was a miscarriage. While waiting for my discharge papers two hours later, I stood up to use the restroom and I felt something large slide out of me.

I was in shock seeing what did not seem to be a normal blood clot. I knew. But did I know? The doctor just saw the baby.

I was in shock. It was the faintest of purple and bloodied tough tissue. To my surprise, there was the gestational sac, intact, right in front of my eyes. Alone in the bathroom, not exactly sure what was happening, I held the light yellow, sweet onion sized sac between my fingers and it popped, soaking the tissue paper with water ever so slightly.

I wrapped up the tissue paper and took the entirety of it to the nurse who said it was just a blood clot but they would test it to make sure. I insisted it was my baby but the Dr. and the nurse both reassured me they saw everything intact on the ultrasound. I left the ER.

Two days later my HCG levels were nearly 1/4 of what they were before. I had certainly lost the baby.

The labs came back and the tissue was indeed “products of conception”.

I cried. I curled into a ball of guilt and the sound and feel of the popping haunted me and still does. I wish I would have known for sure. I wish I would have taken it with me to bury. I was so sorry I did that, but I didn’t know. I wanted it back. I wanted my baby back even if was only “products of conception”. To me, this was our child and there would never be another like it.

I wonder why God saw to it that Isla made it but not this baby. I was so thankful He was there that day I bled so much and she was OK. And then I wonder where He was as I left my baby on a crumpled up tissue and watched a nurse throw half of it away and the other half in a lab cup.

The whole rest of the process felt so medical and nothing like a loss. All the blood draws and the “this happens a lot to women”—I started to feel like it would be silly to mourn and what was wrong with me.

This is miscarriage. This is losing a baby and having no body to bury.

This is living my life wondering what this child would have been like. This is telling my children I’m sorry, the baby passed away. This is feeling very alone because no one talks about the haunting feeling afterward.

But this is also seeing how God is good in all circumstances. When He does it and when He doesn’t, He is still good. This is a family once bonded by love and gains and celebrations alone, now bonded in grief and loss and things of life we don’t understand as well. This is learning to trust God in one more kind of way during my time here.

My motherhood is love and loss all at once. It’s overflowing joy and sadness at the same time. It’s thankfulness and longing all in the same breath. It’s being so grateful for my babies I have but always wondering about the one I don’t.

My motherhood is both pain and love in a capacity I am unable to describe in words.

My motherhood is 1 in 5.

You may also like:

 

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Edith Runion

Edith Runion is a woman who knows what it takes to live out a re-birth in Christ. She is a wife and mother in the midst of a very big and blended family. She loves Jesus and her drive is to see women empowered to be authentic and live a life full of Grace and second chances.

Sometimes God Sends a Double Rainbow

In: Baby, Loss, Motherhood
Two sacs as seen in early pregnancy sonogram

I lay on the ultrasound table prepared to hear the worst. While this pregnancy wasn’t totally expected, it was a miracle for me. I knew with the current stress in my life and the symptoms of a miscarriage, I may have to face another heartbreak to my series of heartbreaks over the last two years. I questioned what I did wrong to deserve it all. I prayed I had been stronger in my prior life: to have made better decisions. So I lay there, I held my breath, and I waited as the tech put the cold jelly over my...

Keep Reading

When Your Baby becomes a Big Boy

In: Baby, Motherhood, Toddler
Toddler boy smiling with hoodie on

My son recently learned how to climb out of things, so I asked my husband to take the side off the crib to convert it to a toddler bed today. I snapped one last picture of my son in his crib before I hurried off to get him dressed for school. As I got to work, I saw my husband had sent me a text of the transformed crib, and it just about killed me. I know, I know . . . what even changed? It pretty much looks the same. But it’s more than just the side of the...

Keep Reading

I Know This Baby Is Our Last and It’s Bittersweet

In: Baby, Motherhood, Toddler
Woman snuggling baby by window

Three is our magic number. It always has been. It feels like the perfect number of kids for us. Everyone who belongs around my dinner table is here. Our family is complete. And yet even though my family is complete, I still find myself grieving that this is our last baby just a little bit as I pack up the teeny, tiny newborn onesies and socks. I’ve folded up swaddle blankets that saw us through the all-nighters of the newborn phase, ready to be passed along to a new baby in someone else’s family. But they won’t be swaddled around...

Keep Reading

I Wasn’t Sure You’d Be Here To Hold

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother with newborn baby on her chest in hospital bed

I stood naked in my parents’ bathroom. Even with the tub filling, I could hear my family chattering behind the door. I longed to be with them, not hiding alone with my seven-month round belly, sleep-deprived, and covered in pox-like marks. For three weeks, I’d tried Benadryl, lotions, and other suggested remedies to cure the strange rash spreading over my body. No luck. By Christmas Day, my life had been reduced to survival. Day and night, I tried to resist itching, but gave in, especially in my sleep. At 1 a.m., 2 a.m., 3 a.m., the feeling of fire ants...

Keep Reading

No One Warned Me About the Last Baby

In: Baby, Kids, Motherhood
Mother holding newborn baby, black-and-white photo

No one warned me about the last baby. When I had my first, my second, and my third, those first years were blurry from sleep deprivation and chaos from juggling multiple itty-bitties. But the last baby? There’s a desperation in that newborn fog to soak it up because there won’t be another. No one warned me about the last baby. Selling the baby swing and donating old toys because we wouldn’t need them crushed me. I cried selling our double jogger and thought my heart would split in two when I dropped off newborn clothes. Throwing out pacifiers and bottles...

Keep Reading

My Second, It Only Took a Second To Fall In Love With You

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother with newborn baby on chest, black and white image

You were the second. The second child who, as a mother, I wondered if I could love as much and as fiercely as my first. It’s true, I’m ashamed to admit. As much as you were so desperately prayed for, I was scared. So, so scared. I was scared I was going to fail you. You were the second. And already so loved. But, you see, your brother was my whole entire world. My everything. He made me a mother and gave me all the firsts. My lap was only so big. My heart was only so big. There was...

Keep Reading

Dear Helmet Mama, It’s Not Your Fault

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mom holding baby with helmet, color photo

I’m a helmet mama. It’s something I never thought I’d say, but there it is. And I’m not going to be ashamed of it. Of course, at first, when the doctor referred us to see a specialist for “flat head,” I thought, “Oh, please no. Not my baby.” I’ve seen those babies, and I’ve always felt bad for them and wondered how their heads got that bad. And I’ll be honest, I’d usually pass judgment on the mother of that baby. So how did I end up with my own baby having a helmet on his head? It’s called torticollis—and...

Keep Reading

Thank You to the Nurses Who Cared for My Baby First

In: Baby, Motherhood
Infant in hospital isolette, color photo

I wish I knew who she (or he) was and what she looked like. Was she young or older, experienced or just starting out? How had her weekend been? Was she starting or ending a work shift at 2:30 a.m. that Monday morning when they ran me into the surgery room? The first few days after my son was born, he was kept in intermediate care as we recovered from an emergency C-section that saved both our lives—his by just a few minutes. I occasionally managed to shuffle over to see him, but was pretty weak myself, so the nurses...

Keep Reading

Hey Mama, This Is Your Labor & Delivery Nurse Speaking

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding newborn baby looking up at labor and delivery nurse and smiling

First of all, mama, I want to congratulate you! Whether this is your first baby or not, I am honored to be here with you through this experience. Before you ask me, no, I do not care if you shaved your you know what. There are plenty of other things I’m thinking of, and that is not one of them. I’m so happy to be here for the birth of you and your baby, but most importantly, I’m happy to be here for YOU. It doesn’t matter to me if you want to breastfeed, it doesn’t matter if you want...

Keep Reading

My Baby Had Laryngomalacia

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding baby on her shoulder

Life’s funny, isn’t it? Just when you think you’ve got the whole motherhood thing figured out, the universe throws a curveball. And, oh boy, did it throw me one with my second baby. There I was, feeling like a seasoned mom with my firstborn—a healthy, vivacious toddler who was 16 months old. Our breastfeeding journey had its hiccups, an early tongue-tie diagnosis that did little to deter our bond. Fourteen months of nurturing, nighttime cuddles, and feeling powerful, like my body was doing exactly what it was meant to do. Enter my second baby. A fresh chapter, a new story....

Keep Reading