My Miscarriage Story

Since this month is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month I decided to share my miscarriage story. It’s something that I’m very open about because when I got pregnant I was not aware of how common miscarriages are. I was afraid that maybe something was wrong with me or that I couldn’t have kids, but the truth is that approximately 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage.

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My miscarriage story starts in March of 2015. My husband and I had just gotten married in December of 2014 and shortly after we realized that we loved each other so much that we didn’t really want to wait the three years that we had originally planned before having kids. We loved each other and we wanted a product of that love that we could hold, cuddle, and kiss. In April of 2015 I found out that I was pregnant for the very first time ever and that reality took my breath away. I remember calling up my sister Christin and telling her with such excitement that I had taken a pregnancy test and it had come back positive.

The realization of having a life growing inside of me is a feeling that I can’t quite put into words.

About a week after I had gotten my positive pregnancy test I found out that my hcg levels, the pregnancy hormone, hadn’t increased significantly the way it was supposed to and I was told that I probably didn’t have a viable pregnancy. In that moment I chose not to believe what I was hearing because I was still hopeful, but I had a feeling for the remaining weeks that I was pregnant that what the doctor said was true.

I remember the day we found out that I was carrying nothing but an empty sac at 9 weeks. I had started bleeding and it was beginning to get heavier so my husband and I decided that we should go to the hospital. I remember telling him before we left that I wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. Deep down I knew what devastating news I was going to receive but it still didn’t make hearing it any easier.

When the ER doctor told me that I had what is called a blighted ovum where the baby dies shortly after implantation but the sac continues to grow, I cried. I was so disappointed and hurt and I just didn’t understand why God would allow that to happen to me. May 21st 2015, a day after being told my baby wasn’t where it was supposed to be, I miscarried the sac I had been carrying and fell into a mild depression.

Feeling like something had been stolen from me, I desperately wanted it back so my husband and I began to try again even though we weren’t fully on the same page anymore when it came to having a child. He didn’t quite understand the ache that I felt in my heart.

About four months after our first miscarriage we found out that we were pregnant again and once again I was excited, but this time I was guarded. Now having faced the realities of pregnancy and what could happen I was filled with anxiety about my second pregnancy.

What if I had an early miscarriage again? What if the pregnancy gets further and my baby actually dies inside of me?

These were some of the fears that I carried with me during my second pregnancy. I was hopeful yet fearful. Unfortunately on Sept 13th, 2015 my fears became a reality a day before I turned 8 weeks pregnant when I miscarried a tiny sac at home in my bathroom. Instead of being disappointed, this time I was angry.

I was angry with God for allowing me to have two miscarriage so close together. How could he do this to me I thought? I seriously wanted to rebel against him and just do my own thing for awhile. Deep down I knew that was the wrong thing to do so instead I died my hair a dark color, wore dark lipstick, and all black clothing to signify the mourning that I felt for losing two babies. Even in the midst of my anger and rebellious heart God still spoke to me through one of my 5th grade students at the time. She saw my dark hair, and dark lipstick and she said so innocently, “don’t be a rebel Mrs. Jones.” For two days straight when she saw me she would say that to me, and it convicted me because only God knew that I was struggling with rebelling against him on the inside.

Even though I felt conviction about rebelling against God and chose not to, I was still angry and my anger and sadness turned into a depression that caused me to be hospitalized for five days. Making the decision to check myself into the psych ward of the hospital was scary because of the preconceived notions I had about it, but it ended up being the best thing for me at the time. I was able to connect with another young woman who had also just had her second miscarriage and it was very therapeutic for the both of us to share our individual experiences and remember our babies for the short time that we carried them.

It wasn’t until three weeks after I got out of the hospital that I was able to find peace about my two miscarriages. I realized that no matter what happened to my babies they still served a purpose in my life for the short amount of time that I carried them. I gained a strength that I never thought I had and I grew in ways that I never could have imagined.

Two days after I came to peace about my miscarriages, I found out that I was pregnant for the third time with my rainbow baby Jayla who made her entrance into this world full term on July 9th, 2016. I don’t claim to understand the purpose of God, but I do know that she was destined to be born and I’d like to believe that maybe her siblings paved the way just for her.

Angel baby Christina 5/21/15 ❤️ Angel baby Abigail 9/13/15 ❤️ Mommy loves you

Remember transparency saves lives,

Gigi Jones

Psalm 34:18 – The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.

If you’ve lost a pregnancy or an infant, what’s you’re story? Share in the comments section.

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