Being Pregnant After Loss

Each child gone ahead from among us is a precious person made in the image of God—and all having been made into Hope Moms, we together declare motherhood in each of our journeys. We are eager to go above and beyond in showing honor and love for one another (Rom. 12:10, 15). Through this series, we honor each other’s experiences of motherhood in love through our shared God of hope.

“It was the beginning of my fourteenth week of pregnancy when I went in for a routine ultrasound and prenatal appointment. I had been eagerly looking forward to this day for many weeks. What a treat to get a glimpse of the precious life forming inside of me—the little one that I could hardly wait to welcome into my arms.

However, that appointment didn’t go as I had imagined it would. Instead of seeing my baby flutter around inside of me, I heard the most excruciating words that had ever been spoken to me.  

“I’m sorry. There’s no heartbeat.”

I didn’t even know that was possible. I had wrongly assumed that miscarriage was always preceded by cramping or bleeding, and I had experienced neither of these things. Without any warning or the slightest indication, my baby had gone to be with the Lord. I was completely shocked and utterly devastated.

For weeks afterwards I played through everything I could think of that I had done during those fourteen weeks. Had I eaten something I shouldn’t have? Carried something too heavy? Worked out too hard? Deep in my weary, broken heart I wanted something to blame for the death of my baby—some reason that his life had ended here on earth that I could overcome or avoid in the future. But there was nothing.

Eight months later, I was hearing those dreaded words all over again. Once again, without any warning, I found myself having to say goodbye to another baby that I would never have the opportunity to know on this side of eternity. As I sat in the hospital holding the small, lifeless body of my precious little girl, I wondered if my heart could hold any more pain.

My husband and I decided that we would take a year to rest physically and emotionally before we made any decisions about whether we would try to continue growing our family again. After two second trimester losses, both of which had required surgery, we thought it best to give my body and our hearts time to heal. My doctor was also unsure if I would even be capable of carrying a healthy pregnancy to term because of the surgeries, and had recommended some tests for us to take to determine if subsequent pregnancies were even an option for us.

But God’s plan for our family was different than ours.

Five months after our second loss I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified. Somehow I just knew that despite the precautions we had taken, I was pregnant again. I wasn’t ready for this! This wasn’t what we had planned!

When the pregnancy test confirmed what I already knew to be true, I put off calling my doctor to schedule an appointment for weeks, because if something was wrong this time too, I didn’t know if I was ready to bear that burden again. I stopped myself whenever I started thinking about our future with this baby, because part of me believed that this pregnancy was already over—or at least it would end in a few months just like the previous two had.

Shortly after telling our children about the new baby, my son, who was only three at the time, came up to me with tears streaming down his face and whispered, “Mommy I am not excited…because all of our babies die.”

My heart was crushed. What a burden for someone so small to be carrying. And yet, what he said resonated so closely to what my own heart was feeling.

I brought him downstairs and showed him pictures of me when I was pregnant with him, and the ultrasound photos I had of him. 

“You were my baby.  And you did not die,” I said. “We do not know what God’s plan is for this sweet baby, but we do know that His plan is best. God had a different plan for your life than He did for Simeon and Odelle. He knew it was best for them to go to Heaven before they were born to this earth, and it was best for you to be born and grow into my big three-year-old boy. Only God knows how many days He has chosen for this baby and for each of us, but we can choose to be thankful for every day He lets us be together, and trust that He will always do what is best for our good and His glory.”

I think my heart needed to hear those words spoken out loud as much as his did. 

That night, after sending him back off to bed, I made a decision. I chose to live by the words that I had just spoken to my son. And every morning as I awoke, I renewed that decision. I chose to trust God with the plan He had for this baby’s life—each day full of thankfulness for the time we had been given together. 

Week after week, as I watched my body grow, as my children kissed my belly goodnight while they are tucked into bed, as the nauseousness served as a constant reminder of this new addition to our family, I chose to remember that each precious moment is a gift. I anchored my hope in God—the Author of Life—because I knew that He is faithful, He is sovereign, and He is good. 

It certainly wasn’t easy. Each and every day I battled against the anxiety that tried to creep its way into my heart, and there were plenty of opportunities for me to give in to the fear and doubt that constantly surrounded me. I was considered high risk because of complications that came up early in my pregnancy. The doctor I was transferred to was more interested in telling me what he thought I could have done to prevent my previous losses than in caring for me during my current pregnancy. And my delivery was traumatic because our baby didn’t respond well to the contractions.

But each time I was faced with the fear of the future—the fear of losing another baby—I fixed my eyes on the One who was greater than my fears. And day after day, by God’s grace, I found that I was able to rest in His sufficiency for me.

Through it all God was enough. On the days when I would lay still for hours wondering how long it had been since I had last felt our baby move, He was enough. Each time I went in for an ultrasound trying to prepare myself for the worst outcome, He was enough. As I sat in the hospital listening to my baby’s heart rate drop with every contraction, He was enough. As I continued to saturate myself in God’s Word and in prayer, His Spirit confirmed in my heart that even if He chose for this baby to go to heaven before me, He would be enough. He would get me through whatever came ahead.

Because as dear as this tiny babe was to me, God was dearer still.

This tiny babe will turn two a week from now. Every time I look at his sweet face, I am reminded that life is truly a miracle. Being pregnant after loss is a difficult journey threatened by fear at every turn, but it has taught me to view every day, every breath, as undeserved grace. And for that I am thankful.

Ashlee is an Editorial Coordinator for Hope Mommies. She and her husband, Jesse, have four children on earth and two little ones in Heaven. You can get to know her more by reading her blog, Beyond Undone.

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