Miscarriage

Ashton’s Story

Gabriel

Hello Mamas!  My name is Ashton Koehlmoos and I’m the Mama to my angel son Gabriel and 3 earthy sons – Oliver, Mason, & Lincoln. 

Our story begins actually before my first was born as my husband and we navigated infertility. We didn’t know of his infertility until I had my first endometriosis removal and diagnostic surgery through PPVI. It was then we discovered that I wasn’t ovulating and my husband had a sperm count of five (low is considered 15 million). To say we were devastated was an understatement.

We continued to work through NaPro Technology to heal both of us. We underwent 3 surgeries between the two of us and I was now ovulating on my own with lots of other improvements and my husband increased his sperm count to 1.5 million. After 4 years of working with NaPro, it was evident that we would never conceive naturally with my husband’s sperm count. Infertility was beginning to affect our marriage so we chose to do 1 round of IVF as we has such a strong calling to pursue biological children. IVF was very successful for us and finally after 5 years, we brought our first child home.

Shortly after Oliver turned 1, we transferred who is now known as Gabriel (we don’t know the genders of our embryos). We actually transferred him secretly as we always hated how infertility robbed us of the opportunity to surprise our parents with a pregnancy. We found out we were pregnant right around December 2020. Shocked and so excited, we FINALLY felt our longest, darkest days were behind us as it seemed we only needed help with conception.

On December 21st, we got the great news that the pregnancy was viable at our 7 week appointment and surprised our families at Christmas time.

We moved to our current location in NW Iowa from SW Iowa. My husband and I both grew up here and wanted to be closer to family. So we changed providers. Everything was going as it should and Gabriel was always growing 3 days ahead of his due date of 8-7-21.

On January 18th, I heard his heartbeat for the first time via my doppler. I was 11 weeks along. At my 12 week appointment, my doctor had a hard time finding the heartbeat in the room, but I wasn’t worried since I had found it at home before our appointment. We went back to a room with an ultrasound machine which confirmed everything was okay and he was still growing 3 days ahead.

As we were approaching the 15 week mark, we still hadn’t told “the world yet”. And this is where I struggle. We don’t really know why. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to, but COVID restrictions were still rampid and we weren’t really seeing anyone. In coming up with clever ways to share, I saw one where a Mama and the other child shared a number but one was weeks and one was months. Oliver was turning 15 months in the same week Gabriel was turning 15 weeks – perfect! I suggested it to my husband and he loved it.

So on Saturday Feb. 13, 2021, we shared with the world. Before we took the picture though on Friday the 12th, I told my husband that I wanted to check with my doppler just to “be sure”. Immediately I found his little heart thumping away. Little did I know that would be the last time I would hear his little heart. 

For 10 days, we basked in the love and congratulations from our family and loved ones. The next weekend, my parents were over and we were sharing all our plans of how we would adjust our home to a family of 4.

Monday Feb. 22nd was my 16 week appointment. I vividly remember assuring my husband that he didn’t need to come. “They are just going to get my weight, measure my tummy, check my blood pressure, check via doppler, ask some questions, and have me pee in a cup” was what I told him. 

My mother-in-law was coming over to watch Oliver for me. And as I was scrambling around trying to get ready, something just felt off. I wanted to check doppler as that was “my thing” before appointments, but ran out of time that day. I remember telling myself that I was only feeling off because I ran out of time and that this was a time I needed to lean into trusting my body. I shutter now what I would have been like had I tried. I REALLY think Gabriel protected me in that moment.

In my appointment, the doctor again couldn’t find the HR, but I thought absolutely nothing of it because this happened last time. We made small talk as we walked back to the room. I again felt the feeling I had at home, but took a deep breath and said “no, trust your body”.

I got up on the table, got the goo and immediately knew that what was on the screen wasn’t right. The baby was lifeless. Then simultaneously, the doctor said the worst sense known to mankind, “I’m sorry, but there is no heartbeat”

This is where my memory gets fuzzy. Despair and disbelief washed over me. For some reason, the first thought that came to me was “we have to untell our news”. The doctor left and got a nurse. I couldn’t speak. I somehow got out that I needed to call my husband which she did for me.

I then got taken to a formal ultrasound room – the one with all the baby pictures on the wall. And the first thing the tech did was shut off the big TV I could see. I was trying to see her screen out of the corner of my eye. I remember asking what the gender was, but she said she couldn’t tell with how he was lying. As she was finishing up, I asked if she had any pictures, and when she was all done, and she put her hand on my shoulder and said “Oh honey, why don’t you take a few days to decide if you want them. If you do, you can always reach out”. She then left the room and there I sat for over an hour alone.

I now know how wrongly I was treated and refuse to ever be seen there again, but in the moment, I was too in shock to realize how wrongly I was being treated let alone recognize it and or fight for what I needed.

The ultrasound tech then asked if she could give me a hug and then left the room. And there I sat, completely alone with babies and happy mothers all around me. My husband worked 50 min away from the hospital and I sat alone in the room until he got there. I remember feeling desperate, longing for someone to hold space with me. I tried calling my mom, but because I was in the middle of a hospital, I had no reception. Texts weren’t going through, and I wasn’t able to learn where my husband was.

When he arrived, they brought him through a different door than the one I had. They let us be and we clung to each other and we wept and I told him what I knew which wasn’t very much. We then again sat….and sat….and sat.

Finally, the doctor came in to explain we couldn’t deliver there and the baby needed to come out that night (again, wrongly treated) and that we either had to go to Sioux Falls or Sioux City. He wanted to know if we had a preference. We said no and agreed that whoever got back first is where we would go.

Thankfully by the grace of God and Gabriel, Sioux Falls got back to him first, but not after letting my husband and I sit alone for over an hour. At this point, it was almost 5pm and my appointment had been at 1pm. Sioux Falls wanted me to come up the next day to be seen by their team since our pregnancy was IVF and they dealt with those all the time, “We know what to look for” is what they said. That felt fine to us as we only wanted to get home and squeeze Oliver.

Before we left, the doctor asked if he could pray over us. We agreed. And that was the very last we ever heard from him again. Not hearing from him after my delivery was the nail in the coffin for me to never ever return. More on this at the end of my story.

That night, I contacted a mentor and friend only because she was the one person I knew who had experienced pregnancy loss. I had no idea 1 in 4 experienced loss. To my surprise, I also learned that she was a bereavement doula and had recently supported a Mama who experienced the loss of her twins at 15 weeks and delivered in the same hospital I would be just a few months earlier. She was able to explain to me all my options and that I could deliver my baby if I wanted to. She was also able to walk us through what the COVID procedures looked like since it was early 2021 at that time and precautions were still in place.

That night, my husband kept asking if I was sure if I wanted to deliver this baby. He felt that a D&C may just be better so I didn’t have to go through anything. But when I was stating my reasons, I cried out that “He’s a BABY Andrew, a baby with bones and a spine, I can’t just let them scrape that out of me.” And I’ll never forget the look on his face. He didn’t realize how formed the baby was because the last time he saw the baby it was a little gummy bear bouncing around. He looked at me and said, “I didn’t realize that.” Again, goes back to how poorly we were treated. They should have ran another ultrasound when my husband arrived.

We spent the rest of the night talking through names as I felt that was most appropriate. If I was going to deliver this baby, it was going to be given a name. Except this time, it felt so strange picking out 2 names for a child that was deceased versus last time – when we did this for a child we brought home. I can’t tell you what we picked out for the girl’s name, but my husband landed on “Gabriel” for the boy’s name. He shared the meaning and I cried…it was perfect because all I could imagine was someday him bringing us our rainbow baby when the timing was right.

The next day, we met Dr. Boyle and his team of angels. I got the ultrasound pictures of him that I wanted and the tech walked us through everything she was doing and looking for. She too couldn’t tell his gender based on how he was lying, but confirmed he was still 3 days ahead in gestation, so he passed away right before my appointment. After she closed the door, the first thing my husband said with tears in his eyes was, “It is a baby isn’t it?!”

We didn’t have to wait long before Dr. Boyle walked into the room. And the the first thing he said to us was that this baby was causing me no danger and I could take my time – all the time I needed – deciding how I wanted to deliver him. He encouraged Mamas in my situation to deliver so they could see a potential cause of death and to get the closure.

Already knowing we would deliver before he even said that, we went in on Thursday February 25th for our induction set to begin at 8pm. That day, I asked my husband to take some maternity pictures. I didn’t want to, but knew I would regret not taking them (and I’m so glad I did).

Surprisingly, that night I was able to get some sleep in the hospital, but nothing….nothing was happening. I honestly didn’t know what to expect though as I kinda imagined it to be over in a few hours. But almost 24 hours passed and my body wasn’t responding to the cytotc well. I was beginning to worry about a D&C, as I did not want another surgery because I had had so many through infertility and didn’t want to increases chances of not being able to get pregnant in future. The nurse assured me through my tears that my body just wasn’t ready to let Gabriel go yet and that a D&C wasn’t even on the table.

That conversation must have been the safety my body needed as about an hour or so later, I began having contractions. It was around 7-8pm. I didn’t want medications for the pain. I’ve always wanted a unmedicated birth and didn’t get that with Oliver. But honestly this time, I wanted the pain. I wanted to feel something if I was going to do this.

At around 8:30, the contractions were really picking up so I moved from my standing position to the bed on my hands and knees. The nurse with with us for the last 45min or so guiding me through. She needed to step out quickly because she knew I was close to delivering. Shortly after she stepped out, I could feel my body pushing and before I knew it something huge came out of me. I remember crying out to my husband “what was that? Can you see it?!” And he said “it’s here”.

At that moment the nurse came rushing back in with the doctor. It was 8:47pm. They sat me back and there I saw a ball of mass. I had delivered everything completely and “en caul” birth. The doctor praised what a good thing this was as that meant the placenta was inside too which meant a D&C was still completely off the table.

Still not knowing the gender the doctor walked us through everything as she cut open the sac and there lied our baby. “A little boy” she said and my heart wrenched. I wanted a daughter, but knowing he was a little boy and what a joy Oliver was, my heart broke even more. She continued to look through everything and all looked as it should.

She placed him in a blanket and handed him to me and my husband. “Perfection” is all I can say. Every feature was there. The only thing that was slightly off was 1 of his ears was sitting a little high, but it’s around 16 weeks where the ears lower into their proper places. But what stood out to me the most was his little hands and the wrinkles he had on his knuckles. Everything about him was complete perfection.

My parents brought Oliver up so he could meet his little brother as that was something I insisted on. I wanted that 1 family photo because he would always be apart of our family. A priest came in to bless him. By the time we went to bed that night it was around 1am and Gabriel spent the night with us at the foot of the bed. That morning we had breakfast with him and held him a little more. While my husband showered, I snapped photos of him so I would have them. I didn’t want to, but I’m so grateful I did.

When it was time for him to go, it didn’t feel real. It almost felt I was in a fairy tale and he was here and we were going to take him home. I sobbed and cried out as they rolled him away as the funeral home was there to take him to be cremated.

As the nurse was doing our discharge stuff, she brought in a clay heart with his hands imprinted. I cannot tell you how much comfort that gives me still today in helping him feel real.

A few days later, we brought him home and he sits on a special shelf in our living room where he can see everything. 

A few weeks later, we got the call from genetics that everything came back absolutely normal and no cause of death was found. So while we will never know, my Mama guts tells me I wasn’t on enough progesterone support as I’ve needed that in some capacity throughout all my pregnancies, especially early on. And that my doctor decreased my dose 2 weeks prior at a time when it should have been increased. Needless to say, I went back to my first provider for all my subsequent pregnancies.

Circling back to my trauma and how I was poorly treated, I never again heard from my doctor who told me my baby was gone after we had delivered. Both hospitals I worked with were under “Sanford” care, so he should have been notified when my charts were updated in MyChart. When I got a hand-written note from the doctor who cared for in the first night, it was the nail in the coffin for me to never return.

I can’t really tell you how I got through the next few weeks and months because there was just so much anger. “Why us?” cut so deep after having gone through infertility. I kept asking “Haven’t we gone through enough already?” It took a lot of therapy, journaling, and self-reflection to realize that God had us the entire time. Exactly 6 months to the day, I walked into another hospital to transfer our now rainbow baby – Mason. Was was born on 5-2-22 (backwards 25 and 22 was the date we learned Gabriel was gone). 

I continue to share his story and spread education through my business – Resilient Mama Fitness & Lifestyle – where I help Mamas navigate their fitness and lifestyle through the journeys of pregnancy and postpartum. I really have a heart for helping the TTC Mama and Mama with an angel(s) navigate their fitness journeys because of how much more difficult they are emotionally and how no one talks about the role that plays. To honor Gabriel and help other loss Mamas, I created a 100% Free Guide called Gabriel’s Guide which is a guide to help Mamas navigate the “What Comes Next” in both the emotional and physical healing. It includes education and resources, as well as a free 6 week training program to help return to fitness. All things I wish someone would have handed me after loss. I built it with the help of my bereavement doula and therapist to ensure the next Mama is getting the care she deserves. 

If you’re still here, thank you for reading our story.

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Coping With Loss

A letter to my baby

December 27, 2024

Every year, near the anniversary of my miscarriage, I write a letter. The first year, I was pregnant with my oldest daughter and made a video for her. In 2021, I wrote it to my pre-miscarriage self. In 2022 and 2023, I wrote letters to Anthony; my son I miscarried at 10 weeks and 5 days in January 2020.

Here’s this year’s letter.

______

Hi baby,

Five years.

I cannot believe it’s been five years since I met you.

Lost you.

This year feels like a milestone for us. Not a good one – milestones just mean I’m further from you. This year has me feeling like I’m being carried forward but my arms keep reaching back for you. My grief used to consume and bury me. Now that I’ve resurfaced, I’ve learned to swim, but I swim on my own.

This year, you will turn the age I always have pictured you as; five. The tall little boy with brown hair and blue eyes I see in my head every time I hear an earth side boy say “mama!” continues in my imagination. And this year, he feels real.

I have been hit recently with the harsh reality that I get to watch your sisters grow up because I never got to watch you. It is so strange to love all three of you more than anything in this world, and to know that the three of you can never coexist in the same place. The family of five I pictured in my head forever incomplete, forever wondering if you were the third baby I was meant to have.

I know, mommy’s gettin’ all serious. You’re only 4 and a half. Let’s talk about something else.

Let’s talk about how much I miss you.

I miss you when I desperately search for rainbows when it rains and the sun peaks through.

I miss you when I see your name.

I miss you when your sister grabs your giraffe stuffie Mima and Papa got you for Christmas. The one I cried opening knowing my pregnancy symptoms were fading, knowing something wasn’t right.

I miss you when someone asks about the letter A on my necklace, the flowers tattooed on my back, the number of times I’ve been pregnant.

I miss you every day.

As time continues to separate us, know my hand will always be reaching back for yours. Now more than ever, I know my place as your mommy; to continue to speak about you, uplift other families like ours, and continue to love you and your sisters with all my heart.

I love you so much, buddy.

Love,

Mommy

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Miscarriage

Sharna’s Story

Hello beautiful souls, 

My name is Sharna Southan. I am an Angel Mum & a rainbow mum.

Today, I want to share my story with you, starting from the beginning.

I always envisioned having a family. 

As one of four children, I didn’t want a big family myself, but I always dreamed of having one or two children. In my twenties, I believed that getting pregnant would be easy. I assumed I’d get married, have sex, fall pregnant, and start my family without any issues.

After trying to conceive for a couple of years, I began to see cracks in my perfect plan. On paper, I seemed like the ideal candidate for motherhood: fit, healthy, a non-smoker, with a stable job, a loving husband, and a home. 

Yet, I wasn’t getting pregnant. The well-meaning advice from others to “just relax, it’ll happen” was increasingly frustrating.

We decided to see a fertility specialist. After a few cycles of medication, I finally found out I was pregnant. I was overjoyed. 

In that moment, everything changed. I was going to be a mom; my future plans revolved around my baby. 

We got confirmation from the doctor and scheduled an ultrasound.

Because my periods were always irregular, we didn’t know exactly how far along I was. We went to the ultrasound appointment full of excitement. 

After an uncomfortable wait with a full bladder, the ultrasound technician said they couldn’t see anything and needed to do an internal ultrasound. 

Then came the life-altering words: “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat.”

The room fell silent, and I felt everything drain away. 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. 

I turned to my husband and cried, and he just held me. 

A senior technician confirmed that the pregnancy had stopped growing at seven weeks.

We were shuffled back into the waiting room and then to the doctor, who explained that I would start miscarrying naturally at home. 

We went to my mums after the appointment, for support. Her cry is still etched in my mind. She grieved my loss so heavily!

The Doctor told me to expect a heavy period. 

What happened next was far from what she described. 

I experienced severe contractions and bleeding to the point of passing out. 

My husband was frantically Googling my symptoms. 

By Monday, I was in such bad shape that my doctor called an ambulance to take me to the hospital, which was 45 minutes away.

The ambulance officer, who had helped me before during epileptic seizures, was like a guardian angel to me. I felt my dad, who had passed away when I was 19, had sent him to look out for me.

At the hospital, I was met with blank stares as I explained my situation. I was admitted to the emergency department and given pain relief for the contractions. 

For the first time, a gynecologist mentioned that one in four pregnancies end in loss. 

Despite this statistic, I felt completely alone. 

The nurse in the emergency department was kind, she had a lovely sense of humour and tried to make the situation bearable. My husband stayed with me the entire time up until surgery. 

I was prepped for a D&C (dilation and curettage). 

The nurse told me I would be fertile within the next few months, but in my medicated state, I didn’t respond. 

Later, I wondered why she would say that—it wasn’t helpful at the moment.

I woke up alone in recovery and was sent home, feeling utterly empty. This all happened in 2017, and it remains one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. 

I was fortunate to have a supportive family to help me heal and recover.

When I got home, I was left to navigate the grief, heartache, physical & emotional changes & challenges on my own.

If you know someone going through a similar experience, please don’t say, “just relax, it’ll happen” or “you still have time, you’re young” or “at least your loss was early.” Instead, learn to be there for them. 

Sit with them, acknowledge their experience, and even if you don’t know what to say, simply say, “I’m here.”

Thank you for listening to my story. Remember, you are not alone.

If you ever need me, I am here!

Connect further with me:

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Miscarriage

Claire’s Story

How can you miss someone so much who you never really knew?

I lost my baby early at 6 weeks. At first I was relieved, then I was devastated.

I was 20 when I got pregnant, a college student, just lost my virginity, and not in a stable relationship. 

I was worried at first of how I could afford to support a child. Then I thought about what a miracle it is that I could create this tiny life. I decided that I would be willing to drop out, get a fulltime job, and do anything I could for this baby. 

The dad? Not so much. He wanted nothing to do with the child he helped to create. I told him I needed help and received none, I think the stress led to my early miscarriage. 

My baby would be about 3 months old now. She (I like to think it was a baby girl) would be able to feel my heartbeat and know her name when I say it to her. I never knew her well and yet it’s like I lost part of myself, like there’s this empty hole in my heart where that love existed. I want to grieve and yet don’t know how when there is nothing to bury, when there is no sign that this little human existed.

I know this story is different from others here: it’s not in a family, I wasn’t trying to conceive, and there is no happy ending. 

But I think it’s important: not only to help myself to heal but to make it known that not every loss is one that’s easy to understand. Not every loss is one that makes sense to other people. I hope this can also help bring a bit of awareness to it and hopefully a bit of comfort in solidarity with others who have gone through something similar.

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Coping With Loss

A letter to my baby

December 27, 2023

Every year, near the anniversary of my miscarriage, I write a letter. The first year, I was pregnant with my oldest daughter and made a video for her. In 2021, I wrote it to my pre-miscarriage self. You can read the 2022 letter here.

Here is this year’s letter.

—-

Dear Anthony,

Hi bud. Today is four years since you started to leave. Four years since I knew something was wrong and no one listened. Four years since I cried for grandma (your sister calls her “Mima.” Maybe you would have too) because I saw blood. Four years since that awful ER visit where the ultrasound tech told us stories like ours “didn’t have a happy ending.”

And it didn’t.

But somehow, after four years of mourning you, carrying your sisters, and feeling the ebb and flow of this awful grief, I’ve been able to find joy again.

Don’t get me wrong, the missing you doesn’t go away. My heart still aches whenever I take out the Christmas decorations and think of how your dad packed them all up while you slowly slipped away. I still feel lonely when I’m surrounded by family during our yearly beach vacation, but am thinking of you on what should’ve been your birthday. I still run to the window when the sun comes out after a rainstorm, searching for a rainbow. Looking for a sign of you.

But the thing that has surprised me the most is the mother I’ve been able to become despite that grief. Despite the worry and frustration and waiting. It made me strong.

You made me strong.

You did this.

I will never understand why you couldn’t stay. I wonder when your sister K will start to wonder who you are, who this “Anthony” is that we pray for every night. Why we have books about babies that don’t make it earth-side and brothers who are angels. This year, she saw your ultrasound picture on the Christmas tree and asked. I told her I had another baby in my belly named Anthony before her. He was her brother. She said her usual “oooh!” and then moved on to the next ornament. I know the questions will continue (as they always seem to do with her) and I look forward to continuing to talk about you. I want them to know how special it is that they made it here. How wanted they were. All three of you were so, so wanted.

And you, my boy, are so, so missed.

I hope you saw me heal this year. Your littlest sister helped, I had no idea it was possible to be that calm during a pregnancy. Maybe you helped too.

But no matter how much I “heal” or how much time passes, I want you to know that the space I have in my heart for you sits right next to the space I have for those girls. All three of you changed me in a way I never knew possible.

I am a better person because of all of you.

I am still so grateful for those 10 weeks we had.

I am so grateful to know you.

And I love being your mom.

Love you forever,

Mommy

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Shauna’s Story

Jack

I’ve often said that child loss has its own language. A language only understood by parents who have experienced this kind of loss. It’s a loss that reaches the depths of your soul and leaves a lingering pain inside your heart.

My son Jack would have been 10 this year.

Every year, I wonder what he would be like. Would he have been an avid reader? Collected comic books? Or would sports have fueled his soul? I like to think he would have been a momma’s boy.

As a medium, I know that my son is safe on the other side, but this knowing doesn’t always bring relief to my heart.

Over the past 10 years, my brain has tried to make sense of something that I know won’t be “complete” or “done” until I leave this world. There are answers that only God has, and I have had to accept that those answers are on the other side of my life here.

You see, child loss really is indescribable. Something so painful and raw. Something that changes you forever.

I also know that the changes can be a beautiful, yet cathartic, opening of your heart. Allowing for your soul to breathe new life into your world as you build a relationship with your child in spirit. 

—-

My daughter Emma was our miracle baby. My husband had a reversal so we could have her, and we were given a 15% chance of conceiving naturally. I can still remember the day I paced the kitchen waiting for the results of the pregnancy test. When the timer on my phone went off, I froze as I looked down to see the 2 pink lines. I stood there for what seemed like hours staring at the test with tears streaming down my face.

I can remember touching my belly and telling her how much I loved her. I then grabbed the phone to tell my husband that we had made a baby. Creating life and becoming a mother was so precious to me.

The years following Emma’s birth were incredibly difficult. She had a blockage that impacted her breathing. I don’t think any of us slept for 4 years. She had surgery just after her 4th birthday and she literally doubled in size in the months after. Sleepless nights were a thing of the past.

As things were so difficult with Emma after she was born, I didn’t think I wanted more children until she started to ask why she didn’t have a brother. She started to compile a list of all the things she wanted to show him, all the books she would read to him, how she would teach him to ride a bike.

I started to wonder if our family was complete with the three of us.

I then began to dream of a little boy each night. Soon after I’d close my eyes, he would be there. He would take me by the hand, and we would run into the light together.

We would talk for what seemed like hours, days even, about everything and nothing at all. Then we would fly. We were weightless and free.

He felt like home.

Each morning I would wake up with such joy in my heart. I would carry his essence with me throughout the day.

As we didn’t think we would have more children after Emma was born, I had had a tubal. I started to question my decision and began to research in vitro, surrogacy and even adoption. One night as we tidied up the dishes from supper, I asked my husband what he would think if we had another baby. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as he wrapped me in his arms.

We were going to have another baby.

The in vitro journey had begun. Looking back, I can see where things weren’t aligned, but in the moment, all I wanted, and dreamt of, was holding my son in my arms.

My husband named him Jack even before we had everything ready to start the process.

Jack. My sweet boy.

I continued to dream of him every night, and I could see all the dreams that included him in our lives. Emma’s list of books to read to Jack grew daily. She was already a proud big sister. At dinner we would talk about all the places we would take Jack. Share our favourite things with him. Show him everything.

He felt as real to me as my husband and daughter did. I felt like our family was complete.

The day I lost Jack is a day I’ll never forget. There are certain moments in life where you can tell something is off just by the look in someone’s eyes. Everything in my world instantly stopped when they told us that the in vitro didn’t go according to plan. It was like time stood still. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience and that maybe they were wrong.

We had exhausted all other options to have Jack, so not being able to have a viable pregnancy through in vitro was devastating. I felt like my one chance to have him was gone.

My brain would try to make sense of something that broke my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that my life would never be the same. I began to question everything: God, the doctors, my faith, my spouse, and even Jack.

At a time when I needed my spouse the most, he wasn’t there for me. I would cry myself to sleep, make a concerted effort to not talk about Jack with him, and wonder what the future held for our family.

My husband would say things like, “Be thankful you have Emma,” and “It just wasn’t meant to be.” His response to the loss of Jack brought a level of pain that I thought might just kill me.

Losing Jack was the beginning of the end of our marriage.

Everything was different. I was different, the house was different, even the day-to-day was all different. Nothing made sense anymore. 

In the hopes of staying busy, I packed up everything that I had bought for Jack. It all reminded me that he wasn’t here. 

Looking for answers, I went to see an intuitive in my city. After sharing what happened with Jack, she told me I just gave up, and that I could have found other ways to have a baby. I was crushed. I felt my heart break all over again.

That conversation hurt me to my core, and I began to gaslight myself, believing that losing Jack was all my fault. The guilt and shame were palpable.


A few months later I was guided to Laurel, who is a beautiful teacher and guide. My time with her would literally bring me back to life.

She asked me, “Shauna, have you talked to Jack?”

I started to cry and replied, “No, Jack’s gone. He died.”

“He’s here and he wants to talk to you,” she said. “Look and you’ll see him.”

I stared in disbelief as I watched a beautiful, majestic angel walking toward me holding hands with a little boy. The little boy appeared to be about 4 years old.

As they came closer to me, I felt time stand still and I clasped my hands over my mouth. I felt Jack’s energy all around me.

He held out his little hand like he wanted to give me something. I opened my hand, and he placed a small heart-shaped rock in it. I told him I loved him, and he said, “I love you more, Momma.”


He climbed into my lap and placed his head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and for the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe again.

The tears slid down my face, but they didn’t carry sadness, instead they were tears filled with joy and peace. The longing I felt for Jack subsided and I just held him.

I’m not sure how long we sat together that day, but every moment was Heaven for me as I bathed in his energy and love.

He looked up at me and said, “the angel wants to take me back, Momma.” 

Jack jumped up and walked over to the angel who took his little hand in hers. They started to walk back into the light when Jack stopped and turned around. He said, “I love you, Momma, I’ll see you soon.” He waved and I blew him a kiss. 

It’s a day that will be etched in my heart and soul forever. The day my Jack came back to me.

Laurel explained to me that all the grief and sorrow I felt from losing Jack had added more pain to my heartache and prevented me from connecting with him on the Other Side.

She gently said to me, “You must give your grief the dignity it deserves. Jack will help you to heal your heartache.”

My heart began to heal that day. And, in the days and weeks that followed my reading, I felt hopeful again knowing that my son was okay, and that I could connect with him whenever I needed to.

—-

After my reading with Laurel, I opened one of the boxes with Jack’s things and chose a stuffed bear. As I grieved him, I would hold the bear next to my heart.


There are no words to describe the pain of losing a child, but it is through the heartache and loss that new life is found. Being able to connect with Jack, started to mend my heart and I was able to find new hope again. I became acquainted with the new version of me. My loss had changed me in ways I had never imagined possible, and I was no longer the person I used to be before Jack.


​I am blessed to be able to watch Jack as he grows up in Heaven. He gets bigger every time I see him, and I still find heart rocks wherever I go.

—-

Shauna Domalain is a Spiritual Medium and Grief Counselor. She lives in Calgary, Canada with her family and fur babies. Visit her website for more information: www.livealifeyoulove.organd check out her podcast on iTunes: The Oracle of Light.

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Coping With Loss

Our Second Birthday

Two years!

Two years ago, I finally did it. I took a leap and launched The Understanding Heart not quite knowing what I would do with it, but knowing it would not only help to heal my heart, but hopefully heal the hearts of the women and families looking for solace in their darkest moment; the moment they lose their babies.

We lost our son Anthony at 10 weeks and 5 days in January 2020. As if losing him wasn’t difficult enough, the experience we had afterward with the professionals who were supposed to be taking care us was something out of a nightmare. I was shocked to find how easily birthing parents are cast aside once they’re told their child no longer has a heartbeat. How babies that don’t make it earth side are suddenly not as important as they were a week ago when they could be seen on an ultrasound. How the disregard of the grief we feel at 6, 10, 20, or 40 weeks makes us feel so small, and makes us miss our babies even more.

I both love and hate so much that you are here with me. I am so grateful for this community and am continuously honored and privileged to share the stories of your babies, but also wish this “club” never had to exist. Worst club, best people as they say.

Thank you so much for being here for two years of sharing stories, discussing grief, being vulnerable and most importantly, remembering our babies. I can’t wait to see what’s to come in the years ahead.

________________________________________________

I asked some of my followers to share their baby’s names to be honored on the blog. Names put directly next to each other are siblings.

We remember…

Rohan Unnithan-Rinella

Mera Maimone

Leilani Rose Martinez & Little White Butterfly

Milo James

Jedah Rhodes

Liam Rodriguez

Carter James Ritchie

Aiyana Hope & Myles Trase

Baby Blouin

August, Willy & Baby #3

Noodle

Baby Ahovey

Maggie Giesbrecht

Lincoln & Sweet Pea

Christian & Alexander

David Vaugh & Ellarie Jane

Mercy Emmanuelle and Zachariah Ransom

Emerson Zion Sommerville

Baisley Juno Pangelian Nededog

Wren Elyse

Adrian Iselle Canseco

Stella Lee Simmers

Claire Foster

Rosie Grace

Kassandra Melia Trejo

Pio and Zelie

Gabriel Danayan

Rionnach Ryan

Henry, Luna, Estella and Arthur

Emily

Shiloh

Hazel and Baby B

Emilia Lolmaugh

August Wynn Visicaro

Frances and Milo

Lyra Rose

Gordon Edward Bryan, Cole Maverick Nontell & Harlow Elle Nontell

Selah Veta

Bryson Brooks Foell

Kingston

Luka

Anthony.

“I carried you for every second of your life, and I will love you for every second of mine.”

– Unknown
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Miscarriage

Stephanie’s Story

For 2023, I thought and prayed about what my “one word” would be for weeks. The word that was continuously on my mind was “heal.” Healing emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. For me, part of healing includes writing my story and acknowledging the trauma that I have endured.

In April of 2017, I received my first positive pregnancy test. I had waited and waited until two days before my period was due to take my test. I woke up at 4am because I was so full of nerves and just needed to know. I remember watching the tracker on the Clearblue digital test as they slowly, slowly, slowly blinked on and to my shock, the word “pregnant” showed up and I was so excited.

This pregnancy was picture perfect. Great HCG rise and strong progesterone increase from the start. Before my 8 weekappointment, I remember just breaking down in tears from worry about whether or not we would hear a heartbeat at our appointment and thinking how would I ever survive a miscarriage. Thankfully, when we got to our 8-week appointment, we heard a strong heartbeat and I immediately broke into tears.

Fast forward to January 2018, when I was 39 + 6, and I was induced (by my choice) and my sweet 8 pound, 8 ounce baby girl, AG arrived with a great delivery. Now that I know her personality, there was nothing stopping her from taking this world by storm!

After she was born, I went back to my regular birth control that I had been taking before we tried to get pregnant with Annalee. All was going according to plan until November 2020. I was late. On birth control, I was never late! My husband thought I was losing my mind, when I told him I was going to take a pregnancy test. To be honest, I thought I was a little crazy too. I remember going after work, getting a test and taking it right away. Again, the slow blink…pregnant. On birth control.

Panic set in. We were not planning on getting pregnant. We had a strong willed almost three-year-old, how could we do this? We were at war with ourselves. Obviously, we were going to love this baby no matter what, but how could we manage it all?! This wasn’t what we had planned. I went in for my routine blood work. HCG rose normally, but my progesterone took a nose dive. I knew this wasn’t how my levels were with AG and in my gut. I started taking progesterone supplements and had my next blood draw, my levels had increased. I began to feel cautiously optimistic, but my anxiety was off the charts. We started formulating a plan to surprise our parents with a Christmas announcement!

At about 6 weeks pregnant, I started spotting. I called my doctor and they suggested increasing my progesterone dosage. I began doing that, and the bleeding stopped. In my heart, though, I knew what was happening. At 8 weeks, we went for our first ultrasound. My husband drove and I cried in the car the whole way to the appointment while listening to “Thy Will” by Hillary Scott. The wait felt like forever to be called back for the ultrasound. The ultrasound tech put the wand on my stomach and we watched and waited. The silence was deafening. Our baby, our Little Bean, had no heartbeat.

After the hardest moment of our lives, we were sent to the waiting room to wait to see my doctor-where I sat with visibly expecting mothers. (This is a part of maternal care that needs to change! Mothers experiencing loss, should have a separate waiting area.) Because of how early I was, we had to wait another week to see if Little Bean’s timeline was off. The only way to describe this wait is excruciating. Instead of telling our parents that we were expecting, we had to tell them we were miscarrying instead. We went back the following week, and there was no progress. It was then that I was given the option to let things progress naturally or a D & C. I opted for a D & C because it was only a few days before Christmas and I did not want to taint Christmas for my daughter in any way.

So, 3 days before Christmas, my D & C was completed. Because of COVID, I was completely alone. My husband was only able to drop off and pick up. This just personified to me how lonely I felt in this moment.

One of the hardest things that I have done is to grieve one child, while still trying to muster the strength to parent my living child. Because this wasn’t our plan, emotions were all over the place. We had gone from panic, to acceptance, to excitement, then to gut-wrenching heartbreak and grief.

Looking back, I realize that to process my grief, I focused my energy into trying to get pregnant again and three months later, I was pregnant again! From the start, I was hopeful, Google told me that back-to-back miscarriages were rare. I went in for routine blood work again. First draw looked great! When my second blood work came in, I was shattered. My HCG more than doubled, but my progesterone once again, dropped. How could this be happening again? Thankfully, my doctor scheduled me an early ultrasound at 6 weeks so that I did not have to wait until 8 weeks. Again, the wait…gel, wand…and silence. It was like déjà vu. Because of how far along I was, we had to wait to confirm that it was another loss. A week later, there was no progress, and I opted for my second D & C.

After the second D & C, my primary care physician reached out to me. Because of the computer systems used for charting by the hospital and physician’s office, he was able to see my records. I will forever be grateful for his proactiveness and encouragement for running blood work! He had his nurse call and start the process and I was able to get in for any appointment in two weeks to begin bloodwork. At this point, I was grateful that I felt something was in my control again. All my bloodwork came back normal, but his proactiveness encouraged me to reach out to my OB for more fertility specific bloodwork. Upon completing the bloodwork with my OB, I was diagnosed with MTHFR. This diagnosis is controversial in the fertility world of whether or not it actually contributes to miscarriages or not, but the treatment for it is simple – a daily aspirin.

Fast forward five months post D & C, in October I found out I was pregnant again! This time, there was cautious hope. The chance of three consecutive miscarriages, according to Google, is 1%. Routine bloodwork gets completed. First round looks great! Second round, HCG drops. I was completely broken and hopeless. I opted to miscarry naturally this time. No one prepares you for the moment of passing your baby and the feeling of emptiness that comes instantly. Three babies gone. At this time, I asked my OB to refer me to a fertility specialist.

During our first appointment, she threw the “kitchen sink” at me. I began taking several vitamins and iron supplements to see what happened. 

January 2022, our pastor preached on Romans 12: 12, “Be joyful in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.”

January 2022, the test reads pregnant. I remember going to tell my husband the news – with zero excitement. Not because we didn’t want this baby, but because we were so numb to hope at this point. At the fertility clinic, they only tracked the HCG because I started progesterone supplements at the positive test. HCG rose quickly! Now the wait begins…

Every single day, we prayed for this baby. This baby was covered in prayer by so many people.

On February 10, 2022, we went for our first scan. I had accepted that we would once again hear silence.

BUT GOD

After seconds that felt like hours, we heard our baby’s strong heartbeat. I will never forget that sound. After the doctor left the room, I lost it.

Pregnancy after loss is complicated. Even when you have good news, anxiety creeps in every day. My fertility doctor, thankfully, understood this and allowed me to come in for a scan every week until 10 weeks. Then, she lovingly weaned me from weekly scans because she knew that I was going to have to be on regular doctor appointment schedules when I was transferred back to my OB. There was not a day during this pregnancy that I did not worry. 

At my 36 week scan, baby was already estimated to be nearly 9 pounds. At my 38 week scan, baby was estimated to be almost 10 pounds! Due to baby’s size, I opted to schedule a c-section. However, baby had other plans. At exactly 39 weeks, my water broke, on a Sunday where I had no idea what doctor would be there. BUT GOD. Once I checked in, I asked the nurse who the doctor on call is – my doctor! Because of when I had eaten lunch and how fast I was progressing, I was unable to proceed with a c-section. When my doctor’s shift ended, the director of OB care came on shift. Together, they arranged for an additional team of nurses to be in there due to baby’s anticipated large size.

After 14 minutes of pushing, our sweet baby boy, RG, was born…weighing in at 11 lbs 5 oz! His size did bring some minor complications for both us, but after about 30 minutes, my baby was FINALLY in my arms.

Stephanie G.
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Miscarriage

Nicole’s Story

I first got pregnant the year I got married. We weren’t even trying, but were overjoyed. At our first ultrasound we learned our baby didn’t have a heartbeat. A missed miscarriage. I didn’t know that was possible. 

A few months later, I was pregnant again. At my first ultrasound we learned it was a blighted ovum. There was no baby. The OBGYN told us they were both likely just bad luck and I was likely to go on to have a healthy pregnancy.

Then, I got pregnant again. Again we weren’t “trying” to conceive, just open to it. This time at my first ultrasound there was a heartbeat! I was overjoyed! Finally, this was the one. Our next ultrasound at 18 weeks there was no heartbeat. We were crushed.

About a year later, I was late for my period. I was too scared to take a test. I ended up bleeding after a few weeks and I feel sure that it was an early miscarriage. All my emotions from before rushed to the surface.

Fast forward three years. I finally feel ready to entertain the idea of trying again (I’m not getting any younger). I get pregnant right away, I’m SO SICK for a whole summer with morning sickness. I think surely this is a sign that my hormones are raging and this is a strong pregnancy. We go in at 16 weeks and hear our baby’s heart beat. “That’s a big baby!” the midwife says. We go back at 20 weeks and there’s no heartbeat. The longest I’ve made it in a pregnancy. I feel numb. I had my registry filled up, I had a baby shower date planned. I had allowed myself to hope. And now I was 36, carrying a dead baby around in my womb, feeling like everything was slipping away. 

It’s not even a year later now. I have had lots of blood work done and different tests and everything seems to be fine. 40 feels dangerously close and I’m no closer to knowing what is to come than I’ve ever been. I’ve learned to trust God with my hopes and my fears, constantly giving them back to him when they come creeping up in my heart. People my age and people younger than me are all having babies around me and sometimes it feels lonely. But God has been so faithful to give me people who have walked this journey or are walking it now to give me a compassionate and understanding word, always when I seem to need it most.

This is my story. 5 pregnancies, no living children, but full of gratitude for the many blessings that have come to me along the way.

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Miscarriage

Jessica’s Poem

Jessica wrote this poem for her baby after her loss. She hopes it helps whomever decides to read it.

Little Baby B

Seven months it took to finally find you

The faint double line told me it was true

Anxiety started the very next day

When another double line seemed to be fading away

Deciding to put my worries aside for a while

I put my hope in the multiple tests that said there was a child 

The weeks went on and no period came 

Symptoms from my first seemed to be the same 

Then came the dreaded sickness I remembered

The hope and knowledge of 2nd trimester was now what I treasured 

Nauseous and not myself all day for weeks on end 

I couldn’t wait for my sickness to finally mend 

Only a couple more weeks I thought in my head

Until I feel like myself and the days I won’t dread

Then came the first appointment to see you, little one

I had no idea of all that was about to come undone.

Nervous walking into the office, surprisingly not very excited 

Maybe God was preparing me for the pain that was about to be ignited 

Just seconds it took for the tech to decide 

That instead we had to try to find you inside 

The moment I knew she had trouble finding you 

Everything inside me wanted it not to be true 

“Your weeks are definitely off” she said with no hesitation 

As if we had been wrong when giving our information

You measured as if you were almost a month behind 

But you had a strong heartbeat and movement she did find

I knew deep down that something was wrong 

The dates of everything just did not go along 

Sitting in the waiting room for our follow up appointment 

My entire being was being rocked by this shocking disappointment 

Finally as we sat with the doctor in the uninviting room 

His worry about the dates confirmed the dreaded gloom 

His answers were honest, his words gentle and kind 

When he said “it’s in God’s hands” it slightly eased my mind.

I knew he was right and that we had to just wait 

To see what God decided about your sweet fate 

The doctor said he’d like to see us in a week 

To see if you had grown, the answer we must seek 

That week was the hardest and longest of my life 

My mind was filled with racing anxiety and strife 

Mother’s Day came and went filling my heart with emotion 

It was hard to find full joy in the day when my mind was in commotion 

Finally, the day had come to journey back to the space

Where everything we had hoped for had been misplaced 

I prayed hard for our favorite ultrasound tech

For the last one was not thoughtful, insensitive and blech 

There was the one I prayed for calling my name to come in

My heart was so glad for this already was a win

Again you were too small to see

She had to go in and see how you would be 

Only a few days it showed you had grown 

I still saw your little form from what was shown 

And then came the words we were dreading to hear

“I’m so sorry I can’t find the heartbeat, my dear.”

Immediately I broke down into a puddle of tears 

Coming true, one of my biggest of fears 

After a moment alone for daddy and I to talk  

Our favorite nurse met us in the hallway to walk 

She squeezed me with her compassion and love 

She was like our very own angel sent from above 

We got to the office where the doc met us there 

Another kind face to show us sensitivity and care 

He expressed his sympathy handling us so dear

And in our conversation I was so glad he was here 

We talked about God and His plans that may not be understood 

But agreed that after time we can see it’s all for our good 

The doc shared some of his own heartache and story 

And we talked about how all the hard can still reveal God’s glory 

My goodness, God knew what I needed on this day 

To see these three faces to help ease some of the pain away

Gratefulness is what overflows from my heart 

This piece of my story they will always be a sweet part 

The days ahead of us I knew would be tough 

The thought of breaking the news over and over was rough 

Maybe I shouldn’t have told so many I thought

But we also had an army praying for this battle we fought 

We sat in the car and sent a few texts 

I sobbed as I wrote, and then onto the next 

How is it that the deafening mom guilt already starts 

As soon as even just the idea of you is in our hearts?

Maybe it was that run or that bike ride or maybe it was stress

Maybe I ate something wrong or didn’t follow the rules the very best

Just another waiting game in the days to follow

As my body started the process, but was going so slow

I decided to take the meds the doctor prescribed 

It was such a hard choice to finally decide 

I wasn’t sure how long my body would take on its own 

And I just couldn’t think of it happening when I was alone 

For Ben would be gone in just another day 

I knew I had to get it done before he went away 

It happened much faster than I had been assuming

This traumatic part of the process in my head that had been looming

The pain was unreal, almost like laboring pains 

And along with it came the dreaded crimson red stains

It’s as if my body was matching the ache of my soul

And now they both could together unite as a whole 

Finally, almost out of the blue

What the doctor described I think came true 

My body just felt a massive relief 

Although there would still be much more grief 

I decided to go see if the relief meant what I thought

Then out you came, my dear, one who had bravely fought

The feelings were weird and maybe a little numb 

Seeing my dream in the toilet was where we had come 

When I really think about it all it is crushing 

The idea that you are finally gone in one flushing 

Though there was relief that the worst parts were finally done 

I know every day I’m going to think of you, dear one.

The days to follow would bring grief in waves

Every little trigger would make my heart cave

Each new abdominal ache, mood swing, each bright red drop 

Would again remind me of what just came to a stop

Three different pregnancy apps I had to go to 

To click I’ve had a loss to end the tracking of you

Thrown onto the pregnancy packet from the nurse 

Each piece of trash fell just making the aches worse 

Your big brother runs around no idea what’s going on

Not knowing that mommy and daddy’s dream is now gone 

You were a fighter for a bit we got to briefly see

But now I hope your soul is running wild and free

You are kept safe in the hands of the Lord

And our love for you will push us forward 

To dream once again of a precious little child

To join our little family and our son so wild 

God has bigger plans that we just can’t yet see

But I believe we’ll be stronger, thanks to you, our little Baby B.

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