Black Friday Deals Inside!🎄

To the doctor who cared for me,

I had never met you until the day I walked into your office, and you calmly asked me to lie down for my scan.

For you, this was kind of routine. . . just another scan to confirm a baby had died in utero. For me it was far from routine, it was torture.

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

I could hardly answer you as you gently enquired how I was doingmy ability to communicate had pretty much vanished over the previous 48 hours.

Tears just streamed down my face as I nodded yes to your question, to confirm I was OK.

I wasn’t.

I lied.

I was far from OK.

I was broken.

I did not even recognize myself when I looked in the mirror.

You smiled at me, the sort of smile that says I don’t believe it, but I won’t challenge your answer.

You then said, “Shall we just start the scan?”

I nodded yes.

As I stared at the screen, I held my breath. My faith was so strongI totally believed I might be about to witness a miracle. Yes, I had been told days before my daughter had died, but since then I had endlessly begged God to bring her back to life.

I watched the monitor for any sign of life, but my little girl was just . . . still.

She was no longer kicking and waving back at me as she had a mere six days ago.

Time stood still, as my mind became crammed with questions, all involving the words, why? and how? I could not ask any of them, thoughit was like I had been struck dumb.

RELATED: We Lost Our Baby at 17 Weeks Pregnant

You carried on, recording measurements and entering information into the computer.

You thought I was silent, but I was screaming so loudly it deafened my ears.

A silent scream . . . a scream someone can only produce when their world has just imploded in front of their eyes. A scream so loud, so powerful it cannot be heard by human ears.

You could have given me platitudes like so many others had, but you didn’t.

You silently took my hand, looked into my eyes, and said, “My wife and I have lost three babies, too.” You then sat stroking my hand as I sobbed not only for the child we had lost but because you understood. You got it.

I knew you did not pity us, you empathized with us, and that meant your words were authentic and genuine.

You could have easily then slipped into an official doctor mode, but you didn’t. You took the time to explain things to us, being careful to avoid using common medical jargon.

You treated us like family, and I am not sure you are truly aware of what a gift that was.

We were aware of the fact you had another family waiting to see you, but you did not rush us, you allowed us time to sit and try to regain our composure before we exited the room.

RELATED: To the Nurse Who Held My Stillborn Baby

Thank you seems too small a word for helping us through that time, so instead, I will simply say without your help I don’t know what we would have done.

When you trained to be a doctor, I know you did so to help save lives. It would be easy to think the only way you can do that is by performing life-saving surgeries, but by offering us true compassion, you helped save usperhaps not from death, but from our hearts being even more broken as they lay shattered on your office floor.

Previously published on HuffPost UK

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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

Order Now

Zoe Clark-Coates 

Zoe Clark-Coates BCAH is an award-winning charity CEO, business leader, author and TV show host. Following the loss of five babies, she co-founded the charity 'The Mariposa Trust' (widely known by the name of its primary division 'sayinggoodbye.org') with her husband Andy, enabling her to use her training as a counselor, as well as her business expertise. As an innovative leader, she has steered the charity to become a leading support organization globally, providing vital support that reaches over 50,000 people each week. As a gifted communicator, she has earned the respect of politicians, the government, and many high profile celebrities and influencers. She has a TV show called Soul Tears where she interviews celebrities and people of note about their journeys through loss. She is also a trusted expert and media commentator for many other programs on BBC, ITV, and Channel 5. In 2018, she was appointed by the Sectary of State for Health as co-chair of the National Pregnancy Loss Review, this is the first government review ever conducted into the care and support provided to all people, who lose babies before 24-weeks gestation. Zoe's three books, Saying Goodbye, The Baby Loss Guide, and Beyond Goodbye are captivating and are essential reading for anyone who is grieving. Follow her on Instagram at @Zoeadelle and Facebook https://www.facebook.com/ZoeAdelleCC/

I’m Not Ready for Life Without My Mom

In: Grief, Loss
Woman sad sitting by a window looking out

I’m not ready. Not ready for time to just keep trudging forward without her. Four years have gone by, and I still think about her every day. When that awful third day of October rules around every year it’s like a tidal wave comes and sweeps me up tossing me this way and that. The rest of the year I can bob up and down with the occasional waves of grief. But the week before October 3rd the waves pick up, and I can’t see over the crest of one before the next is already upon me. I find myself...

Keep Reading

Since She Left

In: Grief, Loss
Older, color photo of mother and young daughter blowing out birthday candles

It’s been 14 years since she left. It’s like a lifetime ago and yesterday at the same time. The loss of my mother was indescribable. We never had a traditional relationship. As I grew older, our roles were very much reversed, but even still, missing one’s mother (for lack of a better word) is hard . . . plain and simple. Sometimes I wonder, what is it exactly that I miss? Of course, I miss talking to her. I miss how she drove me crazy. I miss her baking. I miss hearing about her newest needlepoint. I miss when she...

Keep Reading

I Carried You for Just 17 Weeks but I’ll Hold You in My Heart Forever

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Ultrasound image of baby in second trimester

September 11 will be a date that is forever etched in my heart, not only because of its historical significance but because it’s the day I saw your lifeless little body on the ultrasound screen. I couldn’t hold back the sobs. My chest suddenly felt heavier than a ton of bricks. I’ve been here before. I’ve had losses, but none this late. I didn’t feel their movements or hear so many strong heartbeats at my checkups. Your siblings felt you move and squealed with utter excitement. I want to wake from this nightmare, but it seems it’s my new reality....

Keep Reading

I Was There to Walk My Mother to Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Hand holding older woman's hand

I prayed to see my momma die. Please don’t click away yet or judge me harshly after five seconds. I prayed to see, to experience, to be in the room, to be a part of every last millisecond of my momma’s final days, final hours, and final moments here on Earth. You see, as a wife of a military man, I have always lived away from my family. I have missed many birthdays, celebrations, dinners, and important things. But my heart couldn’t miss this important moment. I live 12 hours away from the room in the house where my momma...

Keep Reading

To the Loss Mom Whose Tears Keep Her Company Tonight

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Sad woman sitting up in bed with head in hands

Three pregnancies in one year. Three first trimesters. Three moments of celebration . . . until they turned to moments of sorrow. I’m sure every woman who experiences pregnancy loss has the thought, “I never thought this would happen to me.” I truly never thought this would happen to me. I have two healthy boys—conceived easily, uncomplicated pregnancies, by-the-book deliveries. We even thought we were done having kids . . . until the pregnancy test was positive. That’s when my heart opened up to more children, and I realized I ached to carry more life. Raise more littles. Nurse more babies....

Keep Reading

Cowgirls Don’t Cry Unless the Horse They Loved Is Gone

In: Grief, Kids, Loss
Little girls Toy Story Jessie costume, color photo

The knee of my pants is wet and dirty. My yellow ring lays by the sink—it’s been my favorite ring for months. I bought it to match Bigfoot’s halter and the sunflowers by his pasture. Bigfoot is my daughter’s pony, and I loved him the most. The afternoon is so sunny. His hooves make the same calming rhythm I’ve come to love as I walk him out back. A strong wind blows through the barn. A stall labeled “Bigfoot,” adorned with a sunflower, hangs open and I feel sick. I kneel down by his side as he munches the grass....

Keep Reading

Supporting the Grievers in the Aftermath of Suicide

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Two people walking down tunnel with arms around each other

She was a devoted mother of two boys with her husband of 26 years.  With him, she owned a metallurgy company, ran a household, and in her spare time, produced tons of crafts by hand, most of which she sold. When her younger son was diagnosed with autism, she read everything she could find on the subject, volunteered, advocated for the autism community, and developed programs for autistic children. She spoke at the National Autism Conference and was co-authoring a book to help parents navigate an autism diagnosis. We marveled at her energy and enthusiasm. She was at every family...

Keep Reading

My Dad Remarried after My Mom Died, and as a Daughter It’s Bittersweet

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Older couple walking on beach holding hands

My dad ran off with a woman from California. When you put it like that, it sounds salacious and a faux pax, but the reality is a lot less interesting. My mom died of cancer at the cusp of my adulthood, leaving me and a gaggle of siblings behind. Six months later, my dad met a widow in California, connected with her, fell in love, and decided to move our family to California to be with her. Two years almost to the day after my mother died, my father married my stepmother. (I have photographic evidence of the event, I...

Keep Reading

“Please Help Mommy to Be Patient, and the Baby to Stay Alive in Her Tummy.”

In: Baby, Loss, Motherhood
Toddler with hand on mother's pregnant belly

“Please help Mommy to be patient, and the baby to stay alive in her tummy.” It was my little girl’s daily prayer during my pregnancy. That prayer for patience—it stung a bit even though I had told her she could pray that I would be patient. It wasn’t necessarily that she or her sisters were testing my limits, but this pregnancy rage had gotten to be a real thing. If there is one thing motherhood has taught me, it’s that I can’t do it on my own. I need the help of my Heavenly Father, and I need others. I...

Keep Reading

Losing a Pet That’s Been with You for So Much Life Hurts

In: Grief, Loss
Woman standing over cat lying on exam table, color photo

Have you ever had a pet that was in your life longer than the time that it wasn’t in your life? One that was so much more than just a pet. It was your best friend. It was family. For me, that was my cat Lightning. I brought him home when I was just 13 years old and he was just old enough to leave his mom. He’s been with me through middle school, homelessness, high school, mental health struggles, marriage, three pregnancies, college, multiple moves, health scares, my children’s autism diagnoses—whatever life threw at me, he was there for it. To...

Keep Reading