NOBLE MOTHERS: RACHAEL MILLER
Here at The Noble Paperie, we want to become a brand that is more than just selling products. We want to support and inspire this community. And we want to do this by lifting up other women that are willing to share their journey through loss. These women are Noble Mothers: they are making an impact in the miscarriage, pregnancy and infant-loss, and infertility communities. We are excited to share our next Noble Mother with you — Rachael Miller. Below, you will find her story.
My name is Rachael Miller, and I love sharing about our babies.
Growing up, I always knew that I wanted to be a mother. When people would ask me what I wanted to do after college, or what I wanted to become, I would always give them the same answer: “I want to be a stay-at-home mom.”
After getting married at the ripe old age of 20, I knew we’d probably wait a year or two for my husband to finish school before we thought about having babies. A month after we celebrated our first wedding anniversary, we decided to move away from family and friends to a new state for further schooling and a fresh start.
A month after that we found out I was pregnant.
I can still remember how surreal everything felt. We were excited, but also terrified because we were given this “surprise” at a time when we were still job hunting and trying to figure out how to live in our new town and community. We knew in the end, that God would provide for us and that we had a lot of friends and family who would help keep us afloat.
A few days after we found out, we drove back down to visit our families and shared the news over dinner. Everyone was ecstatic—my mother started jumping up and down and screaming about how she was going to be a grandma. My sister and sister-in-law got us little clothes and books on pregnancy before our visit was over, and everyone congratulated us and showered us with love. I set up our first ultrasound appointment and started collecting baby items and writing notes to our baby in a special journal.
Then I started spotting.
It wasn’t very much at first. I hoped that the bleeding was nothing to worry about, but I had a bad feeling that something was wrong. When we spoke with the doctor before the ultrasound, it sounded like things could still be okay. I just wanted to know as soon as possible what was going on with my pregnancy. The day of the ultrasound, we asked for a lot of people to be praying for us and went in nervous, but with high hopes that we would get to see our baby healthy and thriving.
I remember a lot of things about that appointment; things that are seared into my memory forever. One thing I remember the most is the utter silence when the nurse finally was looking in my uterus for our baby, and her words: “I don’t see anything in there.” When we saw the ultrasound screen, the gestational sac was there, but there was no baby to be seen. I felt so much shame, like I had created everything in my head when there was no baby. We returned home, devastated. I had my husband message and call everyone to tell them the news because it was too hard for me to do myself.
Later, I found out that I had a type of pregnancy loss called a blighted ovum miscarriage. This type of miscarriage happens when no embryo develops after implantation; but a lot of times the mother’s body will continue to prepare for a pregnancy that has already left her body—giving her all the symptoms associated with the first trimester.
After losing our first baby, I felt so alone. I had barely heard of anyone having a miscarriage, much less someone who was my age. The type of miscarriage I had was also different enough that I felt even more like an outsider. It wasn’t until I chose to open up about our loss with my blog that people started messaging me and telling me their own stories about losing babies. Some of these people were folks I had known for years that I had never heard about their losses. During this time, God placed it on my heart to share our story, and the stories of other families who had faced this type of loss, by writing a book. In 2017 I published “Silent Stories: Sharing Hope, Love, and Loss after Miscarriage.” It was a book that I wished I would have had to give myself as I was walking through that devastating first loss.
Fast forward to December 2019, we thought I was miscarrying again. After a couple months of trying to get pregnant, I tested early in the morning on the 16th to find two bold lines staring back at me from my at-home pregnancy test. Later that day, I began bleeding harder than I thought was viable for a pregnancy to survive. We grieved this most recent loss, and decided that it would be best to wait until my husband finished school to try again.
During this time, I sank into one of the lowest points in my life. I was physically drained and was battling with depression. I started having strange health issues—and my acid reflex was really bad. There were a lot of things that seemed like pregnancy symptoms, but I thought that my body was still very out of balance after having another miscarriage. On February 27th, 2020, during a week-long writer’s retreat with my mother at an Airbnb, I woke up to a lot of pain in my abdomen. In the wee hours of the morning, I gave birth to our beautiful son, Matthias Bruce Miller. By his size and development, we believe that he was about 11-12 weeks gestation. He had beautiful hands, fingers, and toes—and his nose was the same as my husband’s. I couldn’t stop staring at him; everything leading up to that point suddenly made sense as to why I was feeling so terrible. Getting to hold our son, and see him—our gift that we did not know was there—was strangely healing for us. It also gave us hope that if I can get pregnant and keep a pregnancy for that long; perhaps I will be able to carry our next baby to full term.
Grieving and healing has changed over these last five years of being a loss momma. My two miscarriages were so different in almost every way—but they have grown me into the woman I am today. The first loss opened my eyes to just how many other women and resources are out there who are struggling and speaking into this very common and difficult issue. My second loss gave me something tangible to see and experience and grieve. We are still waiting for our rainbow baby. In the meantime, I have such a passion for helping other women as they face this incredible pain. I want everyone to know that they are not alone, and that there is still hope and healing in store for them—even if they still don’t have an earth-side baby.
1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage and 1 in 8 couples are walking through infertility. With so many women being affected by these issues, there is power in telling your story. What was the turning point for you to feel safe enough to share your own journey?
A. Writing is very therapeutic for me and allows me to express my thoughts in ways that I can’t express by speaking. After losing our first baby, I wrote a blog post that was in the form of poetic prose called “Butterfly” as a way to let out the pain that was tangled up inside me. It was a semi-safe way to share our loss that opened the door to many other conversations and ways of engaging others who had experienced similar things.
Everyone grieves differently. What has helped you to heal and process your grief?
A. Honestly, I am still grieving and healing in many ways—I think those ways just change over time. I love sharing about our babies—talking and writing about them and about my experiences helps me get my pain out in the open. My faith and reading God’s word became very precious to me, especially after losing Matthias because I could see all the ways that God had provided for us leading up to and during our loss.
Was there ever a time someone said something insensitive to you about your pregnancy, pregnancy-loss, or infertility? Knowing what you know now, how would you respond?
A. I have been pretty fortunate in my interactions with other people—most are compassionate and sympathetic. I have heard a good deal of people (including health professionals) try to encourage me by saying that I am still young and at least I know I can get pregnant. There has been a time when someone commented that “adoption is always an option,” and that frustrated me. The worst comments/questions I’ve probably gotten were when a friend asked if I thought my loss was caused by some sin in my life and when someone else dismissed my feelings by saying that I could “always have another baby.” These comments are thankfully rare, but still hurtful. A lot of the time I have to remind myself that people mean well, but I also hope to be able to gently educate people on how to address this issue with grace.
Every woman who opens her heart to have children is a mother. What is your favorite thing about motherhood? What has loss or infertility taught you about motherhood?
A. As someone who is still waiting for her earth-side baby, motherhood looks a lot different for me. I think something that I appreciate is that love and sense of pride I have for my babies, even though they are not here. I love to share about them, and talk about them as if they are real people (which they are). I honor them by remembering due dates, birthdays, and other important mile markers in their stories. I have done a few donations and events in memory of them—of course I would like to do more.
It might be strange to try to find ways to include them in our life and in every holiday, but they will always be a part of our family, even if we do go on to have other children in the future.
How are you using your gifts to lift others up who are walking through pregnancy loss, infertility, or other pregnancy-related issues?
A. One of my favorite things to do if I hear about a mother who has just experienced a loss is put together a little care package for her and her family to send in the mail. Sometimes I include art or mementos to honor their baby. I also love finding self-care items and writing a personalized note to them about how I’m praying for them and am available to talk if they ever need someone to share with. And I like to include a free copy of my book in these care packages too, because I know that having other people’s stories to look at can be helpful for feeling less alone.
Grief and loss, especially with miscarriage, infertility, and pregnancy-loss, can feel very isolating. What is something you would say to yourself in the first days after your loss?
A. I have three things I would like to share:
"It's not your fault"—I think a lot of women want to find a reason that this tragedy happened to them, and when there is nothing outwardly that presents itself, we tend to turn our anger and blame inward. Nothing you did or didn't do caused this to happen.
"You are not alone"—There are (unfortunately) a LOT of women out there who know what you are going through. They may seem few, or hard to find at first, but they are there, and they will stand with you when you find them. Some may become lifelong friends.
"Grieve exactly how you need to."— We will all grieve differently. Don't feel bad if you seem to grieve longer than other people, or if you don't grieve much at all. Give yourself grace to not have it all together and to just survive if you need to. You don't owe anyone anything when it comes to your grief.
I also want people to know that even though they have experienced loss, that doesn’t make them any less of a mother because of it. I also want people to know that they don’t have to wait to share about their stories until they’ve “reached the other side of them.” I’m still waiting for our earth-side baby, but there is so much life and joy I can find right here and now; and it is the same for everyone else too.
Thank you, Noble Mother
Many thanks to Rachael for having the strength and bravery to share her story with this community. If you would like to submit your own story for our Noble Mothers series, please fill out our submission by clicking the button below.
There is power in the story.
Here at The Noble Paperie, we want to continue to support our community while lifting others up. Are you a mama or do you know one who would be a good fit for our Noble Mothers series? Feel free to comment here, or drop us a line at hello@thenoblepaperie.com. We would love to hear what you think!
xoxo,
