OUR MISCARRIAGE STORY
Having a baby is actually, not an easy thing.
I think our culture has instilled this belief that trying to get pregnant is a simple and quick event. You can name countless movies and television shows that perpetuate this myth. For some, maybe this is actually the case. But for so many others, the pregnancy process is one that takes time: months, even years in some cases. And the path can be riddled with waiting, worry, and heartbreak along the way.
Our situation was not the idillic Hollywood idea we all have in our heads. It took months of planning, of deciding we were ready, and then months of trying for a family before we were actually pregnant. And then I was like everyone else: I had this preconceived notion that since I had a positive pregnancy test, in 9 months I would be holding our little bundle of joy. There was no trace of doubt, no ounce of concern in my mind.
The first time I turned up a positive pregnancy test, I was beyond elated. We had been trying for over 8 months, and let me tell you — month after month of negative pregnancy tests can start to weigh on you. It’s a weird dichotomy; constantly trying to NOT get pregnant when you’re younger while simultaneously believing it’s just so easy. And then slowly becoming aware of friends, family, and famous people who never see a positive pregnancy test… who then have to walk the long and arduous road of infertility.
I wasn’t pregnant long. Enough time to turn up a couple of positive pregnancy tests and to know good and well that my period was most DEFINITELY late. When I called my OBGYN for an appointment, I was shocked that I needed to wait EIGHT weeks before coming in. Little did I know at the time, there was good reason for that buffer of time.
At just under 6 weeks pregnant, I started bleeding. I knew nothing about pregnancy at the time, but I did know THAT was not supposed to happen. I felt helpless, and since we hadn’t told anyone in our immediate families, we found ourselves in the emergency room. I was diagnosed with a chemical pregnancy — a chemical pregnancy is a very early miscarriage that happens within the first five weeks of pregnancy. An embryo forms and may even embed in your uterus lining (implantation), but it stops developing. Chemical pregnancies occur so early that many people who miscarry don’t realize it. Since we had been trying for so long, I fell into the camp that did know I was pregnant, and then became aware that the pregnancy wasn’t viable. Needless to say, I was devastated. We had been trying for what felt like so long. I thought everyone told us this would be easy. How was losing a baby a real possibility?
Several months later, I turned up yet another positive pregnancy test. This time, I was nervous, but felt positive this would be our chance. There was no possible way someone could lose TWO pregnancies in a row…
For a couple of weeks, I had morning sickness. I felt genuinely awful, and when my morning sickness started to dissipate, I didn't think too much of it; I was just glad to be feeling better. The morning of our first appointment came after weeks of waiting from the initial positive pregnancy test. I had a strange and unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, and didn't know why, but I couldn't shake it. On the way to the doctor's office I asked Jonathan, "What if there's something wrong?" He couldn't believe I was even asking that... why would there be anything wrong?
Everything happened so fast once the appointment started. The registered nurse wasn't even finished with my sonogram, when she said the four words no one is ever prepared to hear: “there is no heartbeat”. I was in for my standard 8 week appointment, and she said it looked like the baby had stopped growing at 6 weeks, 1 day. It was then that she diagnosed me with a missed miscarriage. She explained that my body hadn't figured out that our baby had died, and it was carrying on like I was pregnant with a healthy, viable baby.
In that moment, the gravity of our situation was crushing. She continued the sonogram, and managed to start telling me about my options while she finished up. Once she left the room, I just looked at my husband. He shook his head and whispered to me, "How did you know?" Now looking back on that, I cannot think that it was anything other than a mother’s intuition.
1 in 4 pregnancies ends in miscarriage.
It's a staggering statistic. Miscarriage is incredibly common. More common than we think, and more common than we would probably like to acknowledge. Of my four best friends who have all had children, at the time, I was the only one to have had a miscarriage, proving that even in my own circle of friends, the statistic rang true. To me, miscarriage always feels like a dirty word no one ever wants to mention; we don't want to think about it if it hasn't happened to us. But the truth of the matter is, it's real. It's something that happens to many, many mothers... a friend, a sister, an aunt, maybe even your own mother.
So where did this leave me? I left that office with the worst possible news. I was pregnant and carrying around a baby, but that baby had died. My womb had suddenly become a coffin for the child I would never be able to hold. I couldn't help thinking that my body had failed me. It hadn't figured out what it was designed to do. In the situation of a missed miscarriage, you have a couple of options: you can wait to miscarry naturally, or you can use medical intervention to help the process along. There are pros and cons to both options. Ultimately, it came down to choosing what felt like the best option for our family, and heeding the advice from our doctor that serious complications could occur if we waited.
I could go into more depth about how I chose, and what exactly it was like. But really, that's not what’s important. Everyone's journey is different, and if you feel like you must know about the ‘options’ after a missed miscarriage, Google has all of those answers. I also don't think it's worth sharing my decision process here, in case you're reading this and in the midst of a miscarriage yourself, hoping for a clear answer in a blog post (hi, hello, that was most definitely me). Believe me, I did A LOT of Googling after my news—mainly because I wanted my diagnosis to be untrue, when it unfortunately wasn't). I wanted clarity. I wanted desperately for someone to tell me what to do. But I needed to make that decision on my own.
During all of this, we told no one. It was a deep, dark secret we carefully buried in our marriage. I'm sure it was hard for Jonathan, but it absolutely wrecked me and tore me apart from the inside out. It felt like there was now a small, baby-sized hole growing steadily larger in my heart. The grief was horrible, and something I felt no one could possibly understand. I had never before struggled with depression, but after that experience, I innately know how deep and horrible that darkness is.
I felt like the loss of my children would swallow me up; and this thought sent me down into a deep pit of despair. It's hard to admit, especially in the midst of the situation, but I needed help. I finally sought out a therapist who helped me work through my depression and grief. I know some can manage on their own, but I can safely say I could not have crawled out of that hole without the help of a mental health professional.
Months went by before I felt strong enough to speak with a family friend about the situation. A close family friend, very much a mother-figure in my life who knew I was an artist, suggested I design something around my miscarriage experience. Since I have an artistic background, she thought that using my creativity to heal and process my grief would be a good way to move forward. I dragged my feet, wasted time, and ultimately tried to put off what I was being called to create. We talked about the deep need for specific greeting cards, ones to gift to those struggling during or after a miscarriage. They were non-existent at the time, and there was clearly a very deep need for them.
While I was going through my own personal ups and downs, I purchased a book: "Love Letters to Miscarried Moms" by Samantha Evans. At the time, this book was so impactful during my struggle. Through its pages I found a woman who had experienced exactly what I had: the crushing loss of a child. I cried and sobbed through the pages of this book, and it was so cathartic. It let me confront my grief and I made an attempt to understand it.
In the book she coined the phrase "Miscarried Mom". I loved that. I am a firm believer that the process to becoming a mother doesn’t always occur once you have a living baby. I would even argue that the moment you open your heart to the idea of having children is when you officially become a mother. There are so many of us, whose arms are empty, but whose hearts are full with the love of our children no longer here. There are so many hoping, willing, wishing for a child. Isn’t that love the essence of motherhood?
From this idea my first greeting cards were born:
The Miscarried Mom Collection of our Noble Greetings: Specifically designed for those women struggling with miscarriage, infertility, pregnancy-related issues, and those trying to navigate the difficult journey to baby.
This was what inspired The Noble Paperie. This card company was born from my grief. It is a celebration of my two children I never got to meet. If you would like to see the initial 6 cards that started this company, please feel free to keep reading. Please note, this post was initially written in 2016 and some of these cards below have been updated, discontinued, or re-designed. If you would to see the current cards on offer, you can view them by clicking the button below.
The "It Will Happen" Card
This was the first card I designed. I can't tell you how many people said these exact words to me when I finally came out with the news that I had suffered a miscarriage. For the Miscarried Mom. For someone who is struggling to get pregnant. Thoughtless comments like this add to the already insurmountable pressure they may feel to have a baby.
The "Life Takes Your Lemons" Card
This card holds a special place in my heart. I felt like there wasn't much I could do after my miscarriage, other than focus on the fact that I was no longer pregnant. What I would have loved was to share a cocktail, and my story, with a good friend. Maybe you can be that friend or loved one. Give this card to someone when you want to help them take their mind off of their incredibly tough situation.
The "Hope Has Two Daughters" Card
This card came from my own personal struggle after my miscarriage. I was angry. Angry that my body had failed me, angry that I lost our baby, and angry at the fact that I had been pregnant and then helplessly watched as that was taken away from me. It took me a long time to accept those feelings, and to be okay with what happened. And once I did, I began to have courage that we could try again; that maybe there would be a baby on the other side of my despair. This card speaks directly to that journey.
The "I Know" Card
(The OG Miscarried Mom Card)
After a miscarriage, you are unfortunately inducted into the worst club of all time. And if I'm honest, I was initially ashamed to be a part of the Loss Mom Club. It took other family and friends coming forward and admitting to me that they were also Miscarried Moms to realize just how common it was. And my outlook slowly changed: the women who were in this club with me were all strong, brave, courageous warriors that faced their losses and came out on the other side stronger for it. I found myself proud to stand beside these women. Give this card when you want your Miscarried Mom to know you are one too, and that she doesn't have to face her grief alone.
The "Answers to Prayer" Card
I used to be very religious, and this included when I had experienced my miscarriage. As we tried and tried for a baby, I lost count of the amount of times I prayed for a child. And where I now only see these words as incredibly offensive an hurtful, at the time, I found comfort here, and so this became part of my initial launch of cards. This card has been discontinued from my line for some time. I would love to delete it from this post and pretend that I never created it… but I also think there is power in owning our mistakes, and in admitting when we’ve gotten it wrong. This card was wrong, and I’ve learned.
The "You Matter" Card
I struggled feeling like myself after the loss of our child. My losses made me feel like less of a woman—empty, and broken. It took me a long time to realize that my miscarriages didn't define me. This sentiment matched my story in such a profound way. This card is for the woman struggling with infertility, pregnancy-related issues, and miscarriage. Let her know she valuable, whole, and deeply loved.
So there they are, the first-ever launch of my Noble Greetings. It’s felt terrifying: to finally share our miscarriage story, and for finally designing these cards. It feels like I'm literally putting a piece of my heart out on the Internet.
These cards are obviously so personal to me and to my own story and journey. I created them because I know the Miscarried Mom's heart, inside and out, because I am one. I know how hard and debilitating that time in your life can be, and how all we want to do is sweep it under the rug, ignore it, not talk about it, and run away. On top of the loss and grief you have to experience, there is also shame and stigma attached to every pregnancy loss, and no one should have to endure any of it alone.
And I'm here to say, this needs to change. It’s worth wearing our hearts on our sleeves for once. It's worth letting our community, our family, and our friends surround us during our time of struggle. And maybe these are just greeting cards, but I'm hoping they will be more than that. I hope they can comfort and console the one with a Mother's heart, at any point during their journey to baby. Even though we lost two babies to miscarriage, my hope is that their lives can be honored by helping to lift up and support others walking the same exact journey.
