Jessica’s Story

“A little before we made the decision to start trying for baby number three, my older sister and her husband found out that their son, Jaxson, had a hereditary genetic disorder that was complicated.  It would require a bone marrow transplant along with additional, life long, support of various kinds. Of course this was difficult news for our entire family to digest but I didn’t worry about the effects that it could have on my family- until a conversation that I had with someone close to the situation. I was excited to share that we were going to start trying for another baby but the conversation took a turn I wasn’t expecting: I was advised to take steps to find out if I was a carrier of the disorder. It was something that I hadn’t considered and planted many seeds of fear and doubt in me. We pursued genetic testing but were denied by our insurance company, appealed, and were denied again. Would I walk in faith that regardless of what happened we’d be ok or in fear believing that the ‘what if’s’ outweighed the joy of another baby? We decided to start officially trying for baby number three, six months following my enlightening conversation.

During a period of waiting to get pregnant, we took the initiative to pray for our baby before we ever conceived.  This was something new to us but we were filled with faith and trusting God to supply our needs- not just give us an easy road but meet us on whatever road He led us down. We prayed for every detail of our baby, from their vision, to their genetics and their self-control. It was a meaningful time of waiting. When we did find out that we were pregnant, we had peace and faith that God would lead us on the perfect road for our family and whatever happened, we would be ok. I never considered that this might mean losing our baby.

It was on a Tuesday afternoon at work that I first noticed that I was spotting. I didn’t know the cause and wasn’t going to jump to conclusions, especially because I had my first OB appointment scheduled for the upcoming Friday. I felt pretty calm but as the days went by the bleeding continued, light but steady. Brian and I prayed fervently. I went into my appointment with many questions and shared my concerns. As I spoke with the doctor, she reassured me that I didn’t need to worry. It was normal for each pregnancy to implant lower in the uterus and I was most likely just experiencing bleeding as the baby was growing. She told me to not do any of my normal active stuff (I had just gone rock climbing and planned to continue) but didn’t feel she needed to run any blood tests or have any serious reason for concern. It was a weight that was lifted from my shoulders.

After my appointment I told Brian, “it’s ok. Baby is most likely ok.” In fact, we felt so reassured that we decided to go forward with telling our kids about our pregnancy that night. We have the sweetest video of them screaming and jumping up and down, Naomi repeatedly yells, “Thank you, God!” It is a special memory of our precious baby. We all went to sleep with full, happy hearts. I woke up the next morning to a concerning amount of bleeding. It didn’t look like things were OK after all. I called the doctor who didn’t give much encouragement. I was told that there was nothing that could be done and one of two scenarios would play out. There was just no compassion or value of the life that was so preciously growing inside of mine.

I called a friend who I knew had experienced a miscarriage around the same number of weeks of pregnancy as I was. She gave me the advice to not hesitate to go to the emergency room. She said, “If there is anything that they can see or do for your baby, wouldn’t you want to know that you did everything you could?” At that, it was decided. We called our parents to announce our pregnancy and in the next breath, Brian explained to his mom and dad the complications and asked if they could watch the kids while he took me to the E.R. Of course, they wasted no time to come. There were so many questions about what to do. Should we let the kids know now about the drastic change? Should we just have faith? How would we navigate this? Was it even ok to think of the worst case scenario? I know that his parents fielded some tough questions from our kids over that time. At the E.R. we had an ultrasound and were happy to hear that baby was still alive! There was much hope but everyone we spoke with told us the same thing, “Yes, baby is alive but you’re bleeding and we don’t know why.” The words were confusing and difficult. We were told to follow up on Monday morning at my regular OB for another count of my HCG levels. This would be the easiest way to indicate if the baby was still growing.

We spent the day on Sunday resting as I continued to bleed. I remember just thinking that I wanted to focus on holding our little one in my womb for this time. There truly was no guarantee of tomorrow with this little one. A friend came over after church to pray with me and over our baby. Brian continued to advocate that we have faith that this would all be ok. I didn’t know what to think. I just remember wanting to hold my baby. My belly was so tiny but I put in the effort to nurture it as I would have at a later term. We sat outside in the sunshine and prayed together for healing. We talked about how this was a day we knew we had with our little one and spent time talking to him or her. As the day came to a close, our prayers turned more toward peace over the will of God.

I went in on Monday morning to have my blood work taken. It was a long day spent alone, waiting for the results. I went to a little diner in the afternoon and waited for Brian to join me. Brian shared with me that he’d named our baby Corin. I loved it. It was time to go and make the phone call to find out about our results so we sat in our car and I spoke with the nurse, who after searching for my chart came back with a sad tone in her voice. “I’m sorry”, she said, “It looks like your numbers have gone down.” I hung up and told Brian. “We lost the baby.” It was just a sad moment but there was also a numbness present that would linger and eventually be replaced by strong emotions. It took four long weeks for my miscarriage to complete.

When we told the kids about our loss, we were as up front with them as we could be. We told them that we named our baby Corin and that Corin was not able to continue living. Mommy and daddy would be sad for a while and it’s ok if they feel sad too. It was all very raw and fluid, nothing that we said or did felt complete.

Fortunately, I had women in my life who had also walked the road of miscarriage.  Some I knew well and others I met for the first time.  Because I wanted to heal well, I made the choice to meet with women and ask them very intentional questions about what to expect moving forward. Naturally, every woman I spoke with had a unique story and a unique approach to their own pain but I am thankful that God placed each one in my life during that time. I felt encouraged and spurred on toward a place of strength and healing.

I met with a friend, a few Saturday’s over coffee, and it was during that time that I was still regularly going in for blood work to hear if my miscarriage was completed. It was difficult to go in to the OB office every week and have blood work taken. I would sit in the room with the other women- most of whom were clearly pregnant- and think about how unfair my situation was. I shared my emotions of pain and sorrow with her one week but was met with an encouragement to feel joy for those women in their positions of pregnancy. It was in that time that I began to realize the way God desired for me to deal with my grief.

The week following the miscarriage, as the numbness still lingered, the emotions were coming to the surface. The calendar said that it was time to volunteer at the women’s homeless shelter, in the town where we live. This is an activity that is often the highlight of my week so I determined this important principal- grief brings boldness. My emotions were so strong, stronger than is normal for me. But grief is a whole different ball game. I could not allow these new emotions to rule over me. I determined that this boldness would bring beauty. I would turn my grief into an extension of His grace. Going to the women’s shelter that night, I didn’t know how I would make it through a solid two hours of serving without crying, and let’s be real, I didn’t.  I felt a bold spirit within me to share Christ with those women, to be His hands, and pray through God’s spirit for them. God was with me, and us, in a real and beautiful way and His grace extended through me with beautiful boldness.

It was two months later that we began trying again to get pregnant, which we did. We had a positive home pregnancy test a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. To our great sadness, I began bleeding again shortly after I took the test.  We never even had a chance to confirm this pregnancy with our doctor. When I did see her, she assured me that this was totally normal and there is a name for this type of thing, “a chemical pregnancy.” My heart ached and my head was reeling. This title for a child is not my favorite, as I believe that this little one was, and is, very real to God. More real than a reaction of chemicals.

Thanksgiving was very difficult for me. We went to my in-laws house for dinner and I confided in my mother-in-law that we’d lost another baby. I fought back tears as hard as I could as we went around the room to name what we were thankful for. Even as I was striving to turn my boldness into beauty, grief abounded. Hours later, I talked with my mom and heard the devastating news that my nephew’s health was failing. We left the holiday early to return home and as I laid in bed that night, I shared with Brian that I felt as though I was walking through the valley of the shadow of death. The emotions were strong and so was the battle I was fighting.

Two weeks later, we found out again that we were pregnant. We just didn’t even know what to think at that point. I just remember thinking, “ok, God, what in the world is going on?!” We lived day by day with this baby and enjoyed her for each moment. Praise God, He brought much peace.

Three months into the pregnancy, our nephew, surrounded by the loving arms of the Holy Spirit and his mommy and daddy, passed away. God had been at work, preparing our family to encounter loss of his life. We were able to celebrate his life with sadness, boldness, and beauty. God never wastes our pain. As his death settled, questions were raised in my mind about my own losses.

I wasn’t sure of how to quantify my grief in relation to my sister’s. Should I feel guilty for still grieving over my children when there is another, whom I deeply love, who is suffering loss in such a more tangible way? From this new perspective, my losses just seemed so much less important. But I was wrong. Through reading Scripture and asking God to meet me in my questions I came to this very important conclusion: God does not have an economy of suffering. There are not levels of our pain that God measures and chooses to meet us in and leave us if others need Him more. He is ever present and forever faithful.

I could look at other women in my life or around the world and hear their stories, cry with them, feel their pain deeply and then begin to compare. It would be so easy to become trapped into thinking that my story is less because my pregnancy was shorter, I have two healthy children, or I never saw my babies’ faces on an ultrasound machine. This is not how God wants me to continue my story of healing. He desires for me to know that He cares for me fully, in my own pain, and to heal me from the weight of my unique circumstances. I was wrong to feel that my grief was less important. All of our cares and woes are deeply significant to our Father who loves us and I want to encourage other women reading this to not fall into the trap of comparing pain. Your pain is real and God cares for you.

Corin’s due date has come and gone. It was a hard day with tears for Brian and me. God has allowed the loss of our babies to refine my life and the grief to shape me into a more beautiful creation in Him. I thank God for our babies in Heaven and can’t wait to tell them the impact they have already had here on Earth.”

Jessica F, Hope Mom to Corin and Baby Fries

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