{First of all, thank you so much for the kind and uplifting comments on my last post. It helps tremendously to hear from others who have walked this path, and from those who haven't but are sending their love. I will continue to need your prayers because I still have not started bleeding or spotting and we are going on day #9 since the ultrasound. I have some big decisions to make this Friday about what to do next and all I know is that this waiting game is emotional warfare. I just want to move on. Anyway, this is the first post I wrote last week, a glimpse into the grief process. }

I struggled with the decision to post about our loss on this blog. It feels like waving a giant banner for the strangers of the internet, broadcasting the most intensely painful experience I've had to a number of people that I'll never meet. It's even more odd to think about all of the 'aquaintences' of mine who read this blog---ones with whom I would normally never share this story, but who will now know about it. And I hate that some of my actual friends will read this instead of hearing it from me, but I just can't bring myself to spread the news over and over again. The entire concept of a miscarriage is so sad, so personal, and even a little bit shameful and embarrassing. But you know what? The more I thought about it I knew I had to blog about this. How could I not? If I neglected to share this significant part of my life on the blog I might as well just shut the whole thing down and I'm not ready to do that. Miscarriage should not be a topic that women are afraid to discuss, and it should not be something we have to endure alone. Reading about my loss is bound to help someone out there going through the same thing, right? It will absolutely help me to sort it out, and to hear from other women who've survived the same ordeal. Becoming a member of the large miscarriage club is not something I'm proud of, but I will not be ashamed or ignore it, either. It feels very empowering to share this story, in a way it lets me take control over the words and own them, so that I can heal as well. Blogging has always helped me move through hard times and it only makes sense that at my lowest point in my very blessed life, I write about it.

I really don't know where to begin. I sit here today, one day after my thirtieth birthday, living out the reality of a nightmare I dreamed for many weeks. It's been a little more than 48 hours since we had our dreams of baby number two ripped away from us---and in some ways, these past two days have been the longest of my life. The fact that we heard the worst possible news just one day before my big 3-0 is probably the most ironic timing ever, right? Setting up the ultrasound to be right at the 9 week mark, the day before my birthday, seemed like it could be a great gift to celebrate as I left my twenties and entered the next decade. But instead it turned out to be the biggest slap in the face. As I read the kind, unknowing words of friends on Facebook say, 'Happy Birthday, enjoy your wonderful day!' it made me want to cry for about the millionth time in a 24 hour period. What is 'happy' about the saddest feeling I've ever known in my thirty years. And a 'birth' day? How ironic to celebrate the day of my own birth as I mourn the death of an unborn baby inside me. How could I possibly enter into my next year with more pain and sadness? And yet, although my birthday started off really really rough with tears waking me up from my broken sleep and a horrible attitude hovering over my head, it did turn out to be an amazing gift in the end. I forced myself to go to work and see my five patients that day, and stepping outside of my own misery for a bit to help others was more therapeutic than I could predict. My job---the one I love to complain about, and dream of quitting to stay home full time---was the biggest reason I made it through my birthday. Not to mention the flowers, emails, calls, and texts full of heartfelt and comforting words. By the finish of my big day, I had finally gotten the message: I have been blessed with a group of friends and family that truly care about me, who love me no matter what, and who will support me through the worst of times. I definitely felt the love and understood that our loved ones are incredible gifts.

It's really natural to spit out about three token phrases to someone who is suffering from a miscarriage. I'm absolutely positive I've said them all at one point in my life, and I don't regret saying them now that I'm on the other side of the line. All of them mean well but they can't be a quick fix, placed in a nice little box of words, to make the mother feel less pain. I realize that everyone just wants to say the right thing to help, but when you are in the darkest despair it's easy to have a response for everything. I know that is really awful for me to say, and I hope it doesn't make it even harder to come up with words for those suffering.

-'At least you already have one healthy baby.' Very true, we are so blessed to have Truman as the ultimate distraction to our pain, the perfect symbol for life and happiness. But you know what? There are two sides to the coin of having a first child and then a miscarriage. I know how amazing it is to have a new baby. I am in love with being a mother. And to have it be thisclose and then ripped away from me? I am fully aware of what I am losing and it's absolutely heartbreaking to know I will never meet this baby. I will never get to love him or her with every ounce of my being, or get to smell their sweetest newborn scent, or watch them grow into a precious toddler and beyond. I am beyond grateful for Truman and don't mean to sound greedy, wanting more children after him. But I truly feel that our family is not complete with just one. And I wanted this baby more than I can accurately explain.

-'There was probably something wrong with the baby, so it's probably for the best.' Absolutely true, but of course we'll never know if this was the case. And if so---if the baby had a chromosomal abnormality---how can you NOT ask The Question of 'Why?' I know that these things happen. That when the miracle of life begins with just one cell and rapidly divides into thousands, there is a large margin for error. I get that, I really do. But why did my baby have to have a mistake at the cellular level? Does this mean we are more at risk for another abnormality in the future?

-'You'll get pregnant again and have a perfectly healthy child next time.' Really? You have a crystal ball and can predict the future? Because right now, when fate seems like the biggest biyatch in the universe, it seems pretty ridiculous to assume everything will go on to being just fine in the future. What if we don't get pregnant again? Or what if this happens multiple times without explanation? I seriously doubt I would be strong enough to do this all over again.

And really, if God allows me to get pregnant again, how on earth will I ever be able to enjoy pregnancy again? I've always been incredibly neurotic, a worrier, finding it difficult to just relax and be in the moment. Will I even be able to function in the early days of pregnancy again? Or will I literally be so anxious and scared that I'll make myself sick?

Because I like to be a Pollyanna sometimes, I really do try to see the good things in every situation. As far as the timing of this loss, I can honestly say that it's much better finding out at 9 weeks instead of 19 weeks, or 29 or 39. Also much better finding out we've lost the baby now than losing a baby after it's born. It's better that the body knows when something is wrong, and 'takes care of it', so that we do not bring a child into this world with added suffering, pain, medical procedures, and heartache if at all possible . Of course if we did have a child with any disability we would love that child with all of our hearts. But I think it's okay to admit that it would be a difficult life. I am so glad I didn't get an ultrasound at 6 weeks, see the heartbeat then and feel optimistic, and then not find out about this loss until much later. I'm also very grateful that I didn't speak up at my 8 week exam, requesting to squeeze into the Ultrasound room right away, on the off chance they had a random opening right then. I would have been completely alone, without Nate or Truman, and I can't imagine how much worse it would have been then.

But even when I'm doing really well with those happy thoughts, I'll have dark moments hit me hard and it takes awhile to catch my breath. Why is this happening to us? Do we deserve it somehow? Did all of my worries about this very scenario somehow will it to happen? Why would God provide such a precious gift of life and then quickly whisk it away from us in an instant, before it even seemed real? I've had a lot of talks with God in the past two days and I hate to admit that some of my words haven't been the nicest.

I understand that there must be 'mountaintop moments' in life, and also times when we walk in the valley. I'm definitely in the valley right now, struggling to see how God has not deserted me. But I do believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe in heaven, and that life begins in the womb. I think that our world today trivializes life in utero making it seem insignificant, like a baby isn't really 'real' until he or she is born. I wholeheartedly disagree with that statement and choose to believe that my baby was real. I wonder if some people simply will not understand my devastation with this loss, thinking it's silly to be so sad over a pregnancy that only lasted a few weeks. I'm sure there will be some that want me to move on already, to get over it and suck it up. But this little life that briefly passed through my own was my child, with so much potential washed away in a matter of weeks. No matter how short or how long a child touches your life he will absolutely leave a mark. I believe this baby is in heaven and we will meet him someday and I am thankful for the hope and anticipation we felt for the 5 weeks we knew about this child.

The worst part of the whole nightmare is the waiting, the emptiness, the lack of closure. I am still not bleeding yet. My body still thinks it's pregnant. And honestly, I have lost an enormous amount of respect for my physical body in the past days. First it loses the pregnancy, unable to grow the baby into an actual child for us to love. And now? It's not getting the freaking memo. The baby is dead, you idiot. Why won't you just let it go and let me get on with my life? I spent 5 weeks holding my breath with every bathroom trip, praying there wouldn't be blood. And now? I pray that God shows his mercy and lets me start bleeding, shedding the physical and emotional pain in the process. I know that the actual process is going to be absolutely terrifying, and more horrible than I can imagine. But the fact that I'm just sitting here with a dead baby inside of me, waiting for the loss to happen is sickening. If nothing has happened by next week, the doctor thinks I should come in for some medicine to help speed things along. Two days ago that idea sounded disgusting to me. And now it sounds more appealing by the minute. How am I supposed to heal, to move through the grieving process, when I haven't even lost the baby yet?

So here I am, headed into day #3 after everything has changed. Just typing my thoughts for the first time and feeling it all sink in a little deeper. I think I've successfully moved from shock, sadness, despair, and now to numbness and emptiness, with a touch of anger thrown in there for a bit. The grieving process is a wild ride, for sure.


  1. I am so very sorry for your loss. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

  2. Julia, I'm so glad you are being so open throughout this process. It is definitely so helpful to people who are going through it, or who have gone through it, to read this. Writing is really therapeutic for me too, so I can understand why you wanted to write this all out and I am just so thankful that you were willing to share it.

    The decision of how to move forward if your body doesn't miscarry naturally is a really tough one. It seems that unfortunately everybody has a different experience - I know a few friends whose bodies also just weren't getting the memo, and even the pill they gave didn't completely work, even after a few doses, so still had to get a D&C, and then some that went straight to the D&C. I hope your doctor can give you some good advice about your situation and what's best for you.

    Again, I'm so sorry for what you're going through, and my thoughts are definitely with you.

  3. I am just so sorry, Julia. I have no words of comfort, but a couple of scriptures come to mind:

    I will turn their mourning into gladness. I will give them comfort and joy instead of sadness. Jeremiah 31:13

    He heals the brokenhearted, binding up their wounds. Psalm 147:3

    I know at a time like this, all words of comfort seems trite and I have no doubt that if I were in your situation, I would be angry and constantly questioning God. I'm praying for peace for you, Julia.

  4. I am so very sorry. I've had the awful experience of an empty sac on an u/s. It's a devastating loss and I'm sorry you're going through it. I ended up having a D/C (physically, not bad at all). That was my 1st pregnancy and have since had 2 healthy pregnancies, but I was a mess the 1st tri. with both of them. ((HUGS))

  5. I don't have the experience of miscarriage and I don't want to even fathom the emotional pain that comes with it. But, I know in the grief I experienced dealing with IF, I was angry with God. Angry with the people around me who, though meaning well, would say those little phrases that were just a thorn in my side. I guess I just want to say that I recognize your pain is real and you have every right to be feeling what you are feeling and I pray that through the storm you somehow find comfort and peace.

  6. I am just so sorry for you and your family Julia. I feel I have nothing comforting to say, but I am praying for you and your husband.

  7. Oh Julia...I can feel the depth of emotion in this post. My heart breaks for you over and over again.

    I so hope I didn't say any of those things to you. I don't think I did but if I did say something that was off key I'm so sorry. I distinctly know I didn't want to mention any future babies because while it might be true, at the moment you didn't want to hear it. I understand - the slew of phrases I heard when we were trying to get pregnant were awful...just awful. "You can always adopt" was on the top of my list and I don't think those who said it understood the emotional impact of such a harsh statement.

    Anyway, my prayer is that this event doesn't damper any future pregnancies. Way easier said than done, I know. I certainly don't know why you are going through this. You mention being a worrier by nature and maybe....just maybe....God wants you to completely let go. He doesn't want us to carry these burdens and I think you'll experience IMMENSE joy and freedom if you give God all your future pregnancies and trust that He loves you, wants the best for you and your family and will give you all the blessings He desires.

  8. Continuing to pray for you and your family, including the little one that is in heaven now. Like you, I believe that life begins at conception and I don't think that a death is easy at any age. While I have never lost a child, and I am not a mother yet, I can't imagine anything would ever be harder. When someone older dies, you mourn the memory of who they were and that they're no longer with you. But when a child passes, you mourn for what could have been, who they would have become.

    I know you may never know the answer to why, but I hope you find peace and comfort. Again, I am so very sorry you are going through this, and I also appreciate your honesty and openness.

  9. We don't know eachother- I actually stumbled upon your blog through a blog of a friend of mine. I want to say that this post brought me to tears- tears over your loss and the absolute heartbreak you are feeling and also tears because it brought back memories of a very similar experience I had almost 2 1/2 years ago. Your ultrasound experience summed up mine- the same "big black hole" on the screen. I was 11 weeks pregnant with a fetus measuring at 7 weeks. But if I can offer any encouragement, I was blessed with another healthy pregnancy, right around the time of the due date of the one I lost. Now everytime I look at my healthy little boy, a little part of me is grateful (as horrible as it sounds) because he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the miscarriage. I pray and am confident that you will ride out the storm and be blessed again in the future.

  10. My soul hurts for yours... another mama int his world that shares your sorrow. I hope yours heals fast and smiles light up your world soon. Prayers again for you.

  11. Julia, I wish I could come up with some words of comfort for you... sending a big hug my friend.

  12. I am very sorry for your loss! My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family

  13. I'm just getting caught up on your other post. I'm so sorry hon. I've had two miscarriages before my daughter was born. For the first m/c I used cytotec and the same for the second, but it didn't work and I had a D&C. (((hugs)))

  14. I've never commented before, but I've loved reading about your family.

    I'm so, so sorry for your loss. May you find new strength and hope with each day.

  15. My heart is breaking all over again for you, Julia, and for all of us who've gone through that pain. I completely agree that even though he/she was only with you for a short time, he/she was a human being - YOUR CHILD - and will always carry major significance in your life. You will always love that precious baby, and all the hope and potential that baby carried with it, even for just a short time. I'm sorry again. Big hugs.

  16. I just read through your post again, and had to say one more thing:

    There is nothing, NOTHING!!! that I hate more than when people tell me "everything will be fine" - I remember people telling me that when I would talk to them about my anxiety when I was pregnant. If it was someone I was close to, I'd tell them to never utter that phrase to me again. (along with "just relax") I get the sentiment, and yes, they are right, that chances are pretty good you'll get pregnant again and have a healthy baby, but you just never know. What sometimes gave me some comfort was that, yes - I PROBABLY will be fine - and whatever life throws at you, it might suck, but you'll deal with it with the help of your family and friends.

    I'm so glad to read that by the end of your birthday, you were feeling the love and support of your family and friends. What a horrible thing to have to deal with on such a monumental day.

  17. Julia, I am so truly sorry for your loss. I pray that you find peace.

  18. I as many before me have posted am very sorry for your loss. As hard as it maybe, I hope that the writing helps. The comments from others can help you not to feel alone. Try not to beat yourself up too much. I once heard that pretending things are ok can help you get to the point that they actually are. Keep working, keep living, keep enjoying your family. More than anything, I thank you so much for your true honesty and your understanding that your pain on the page can help others.

  19. It's amazing how, without knowing someone, their tragedy and pain can effect you. I got teary eyed reading your post and have been praying for your healing. I hope it's a quick recovery!

  20. Kristal and Andrea said it best for me.

    God can handle our not nice words, just continue to talk to Him.

    Here for you mama.

  21. Huge, huge kudos to you for being so open about all of this, Julia. You're absolutely right that at some point it will help someone else. You are in my thoughts & prayers, friend.

  22. Julia, I am just now catching up on things and sad to read your last two posts. I know there are no words I could say to make this easier, but I want you to know that I'm thinking about you!

  23. Julia - I'm very sorry for the lost of your child. Your child was just taken to heave a little earlier than you would have liked. I would like to recommend to you "Heaven is for Real". It's about a little boy's journey to heaven and back. You get to see heaven through child's eyes. And there is a beautiful story about his older sister who their mother miscarriaged. You are still a mother of 2 children: Truman here and your youngest in heaven. It might help if you give your child a name.

    Blessings and hugs. I will keep you in my prayers.

  24. I lost my mom from cancer 8 days before my 30th birthday. It's been 6 months, and the more I think about it - the more I realize that we just don't have any control on how things work out in life, we just have to plod along and really make the best of things. So yea, I had the worst 30th birthday anyone can imagine - and I didn't get a big fun party like all my friends - I got a funeral. But in the end, I was blessed with the best mother in the world and for that I'm grateful. Your loss will hurt for a long time, Julia. It's one of those things you'll just never get over. And it's just not fair that bad stuff happens like this to people like us. Take your time to grieve and don't let anyone make you feel bad for moving at your own pace.

  25. Hi Julia -

    I have been following your blog for a while now but have never commented. I had a miscarriage on Thanksgiving last year - same timing as you.

    No words can make you feel better - only time will make things better. You have lots of people thinking and praying for you - me included.

  26. Julia,

    I am incredibly sorry for your loss and appreciate your openness and honesty about SUCH a private and emotional subject. You absolutely are not silly to mourn this loss, you have every right to wear it on your sleeve. And I think you can see from all the comments before mine, that you are fully supported and all of our hearts break a little bit with you. Sending good thoughts your way.

  27. Hi Julia- I am a random blog stalker from Alabama. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for you and your family, and that I will ife you up in my prayers. I love reading your blog--you are such and inspiration in so many ways: running, motherhood, work/life balance--and I will take joy in praying for you.

  28. I've been reading for awhile but never commented.

    When I read your post on Tuesday, I had just found out that morning that we had lost our baby at 8w6d (I was 11w4d). We had seen a heartbeat at 7w3d and after hearing the heartbeat at this appointment we were going to spread the news. I know the shock and grief that you're going through. We chose a D&C for a variety of reasons and it physically has not been too bad, at least no worse than I had imagined.

    I hope that you get through this difficult time, but know that at least one other person is going through the same thing. It has helped me immensely to read your story and know that others are going through this.

    Thanks for sharing.

  29. First time commenter: So very sorry to hear about the loss of your precious baby. I too have been down the same road and would be a rich woman if I had a nickle for every insensitive comment that was said to me. I am so sorry! (((HUGS)))

  30. I am so sorry you had to join our club :( I had two miscarriages before finally having my daughter this February. Those two miscarriages where probably the worst experiences of my life. It did make me a neurotic freak during my subsequent successful pregnancy, unfortunately. It's just something that is so hard to get over, but you WILL with time. I promise.

    Super big hugs to you.

  31. I have lost a baby and writing about it openly, just typing out how I was feeling, really helped me. Some judged me for talking about it on my blog, but it's about what makes you heal.

    I am so sorry you are walking through this. But know that you are not walking through it alone. It was a baby, and it was your baby, and you can be sad. You can also smile, when it feels right, and you will laugh again. You can feel angry and you can feel betrayed, or you can feel none of these things. However you feel, it's your right to feel that way about your loss.

    You are a wonderful mother and this is not your fault. I am so sorry you are experiencing this. It is not something I want to have in common with anyone. But you are not alone in walking through it. I hope that brings you some measure of comfort.

  32. I am so sorry for your loss as well as what your husband lost as well. I had a blighted ovum 2 years ago and it was painful, although not a planned pregnancy. We need to walk along side people when they are in their darker moments of life. Yes, the topic of miscarriage truly needs to be shared more and you have done a wonderful job at this in your blog. I firmly believe one day you and your family will meet the life that was growing inside of you and they will run to you because they will know you.

  33. I discovered your blog through a friend and have been following you in your journey over the past year. I want to thank you for posting about this difficult experience. It will undoubtedly help the many others who are going through the same loss. Thinking of you and your family at this difficult time...

  34. I always hated it when people would say those phrases after I had my miscarriage :) The greatest thing I was able to do was go to a miscarriage and stillborn support group afterwards put on through my church. It was so great to be ablet o talk to women who had been through the same, different, easier, worse, more....but all the while same loss I had. So great to talk to the women who went through it themselves and talk about how husbands grieve differently and how to deal with the emotions and the comments people make. If you have the opportunity, even if you are not a "support group" kind of person, I would suggest you check one out.

    My prayers are with you!!

  35. Hi, I've been reading your blog for some time now but have never commented. I stumbled upon your blog just a few days before you announced your pregnancy with your little boy. In the day or two before I found you, I had experienced a miscarriage. I watched you celebrate every milestone of pregnancy and I was so envious but so happy for you and dreamed of the day when it was my turn. I am not envious now. I know exactly what you're feeling and my heart aches for you. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry and I'll be praying for peace and comfort for you and your husband. I wish I could say something to make it better but I know from experience there is nothing. I also know that the pain does eventually ease. It doesn't go away but it eases. Until then, you will be in my prayers...:)

  36. I'm so sorry for your loss. There are no other words. :(

  37. Julia, I am so terribly sorry for you and your family's loss. I hadn't read your blog in a while and just happened to drop in. I wish that I had something comforting and useful to say, but I do not. I'm even tearful as I write this. Just know that your bravery in writing about your experience could help a good many people.


    Anne K. from EAD Living

  38. I am very sorry that you and your family are suffering this loss, and I hope you are finding some peace in your time of grieving.

    I don't want to make light of your situation at all, but I hope it might help to hear my story. I am the second child in a big family. I had never heard any stories of any difficulties trying to conceive for my parents, and the number of siblings I have would make most people assume there were none.

    But in my adulthood, my mother told me a story that she hadn't shared with any of my siblings. Apparently, two months before I was conceived, my mom miscarried a pregnancy. She was very sad, and feeling what I can only assume is similar to what you are feeling. But she is a sweet woman, and a wonderful mother, and she points out that if that pregnancy had gone to term, she wouldn't have me - she would have someone entirely different in her life.

    Like I said, I definitely don't want to invalidate your loss. More, I just want to say that I am living proof that everything happens for a reason. And I know you will find your life's reasons, too.

    Take care.

  39. I am so, so sorry Julia. I will keep you guys in my prayers. :(

  40. Oh Julia, I've been trying to find the words for a few days to write to you. This is a club I never would have wanted anyone to be a part of, and now that you are, your life has definitely been changed forever. I keep trying to remember what I would have wanted someone to say to me, but there really are no words for a loss like this. It will just take awhile for you to feel like yourself again, and for you and your family to mourn little Wren.

    Lean on your family and friends during this time, they will give you comfort. It will take time to heal, and time to feel normal again. Sometimes friends that have not been through this won't know what to say or how to act, but just find peace in the fact that they are there if you need their support.

    Thank you for blogging this, I totally agree that our stories will help others one day, and that this is something that needs to be shared and talked more about openly. You tend to feel so alone and like you somehow failed, and just knowing that there are others out there experiencing the same things does help.

    I blogged about the unreal process of having a natural miscarriage here:
    So, if you know anyone going through this that wants to read about the details, you can point them in that direction (I wish I would have known what to expect). I also included updates on that post (and others) about life after experiencing something this - having sex, trying again, feeling normal physically and mentally, depression, feeling stuck - a lot of information for others going through something similar.

    I read your entire pregnancy blog when I was pregnant and it really helped me because it allowed me to feel that I wasn't alone going through this adventure. So, I hope that my blog will help you to know that you are not alone going through this part of your life either. A loss like this is indescribable but I healed as I was able to write about it. And I know you will too, with time. Let me know if you need anything or ever just want to chat - there is light at the end of the tunnel and one day you will see it again. We will have beautiful babies in the future, but will never forget the babies that came before.

    One last thing I want to leave you with. When something like this happens, you will hear a lot of people's stories about miscarriage and loss. It is very comforting at first and you find solace in the fact that you aren't alone, you will cry along with the stories and hear really sad things like people meeting their babies and then having to say goodbye. I became kind of consumed with these, reading message boards and receiving messages from family and friends. Then, after awhile someone wrote me this: You will probably hear a lot of stories about people who have lost babies, but try to also really hear the stories about people who have gone on to have healthy babies. I just don't want you to think the sad news always happens. Stay positive and know that next time things will be different.

    It IS unfair that we will never get that feeling back, that carefree pregnancy feeling, we will always be scared or nervous the next time around. But the same person also told me this (and you probably already know it being a mom): In that fear there is also amazing gratitude every time your baby will be okay. A lot of being a parent is fear and anxiety -no doubt about it. That fear is a way our love for our children expresses itself. But, the love and fun and joy and challenges all supersede those moments.

    So, my friend, stay positive and I wish you all the best. Keep us on this journey with you and let me know if you need anything. Things WILL get better, I promise. I have prayed to our little blueberry to welcome your little Wren and tell him all about how much you wanted to meet him and how much you loved him. She will keep him safe and happy until one day when we will hopefully be able to finally meet them.

  41. Julia- I happened to stumble onto your blog about a year ago and have been following ever since. I was also a young mother and enjoyed reading about your family. Hearing you work your way through the grief of losing a child was so hard to read, but it helped me so much in my own loss. My daughter, Ryann Serena, suddenly died on 5-29-11. Reading your musings and updates was one of the things that I was able to hang onto afterward. They helped me to not feel alone. Thank you. Thank you for being an unknown support. -Damie

  42. Thank you for sharing this. I stumbled upon your blog when I first learned that I was pregnant, and I found your writing to be so refreshing and real. I just found out that I too had a missed miscarriage, at 9 weeks after hearing and seeing the heartbeat at 5 and 6 weeks. Your posts give me some sense of sanity and clarity in what seems like an awful nightmare, and I thank you for that.


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