This is not what I intended for this post. I had imagined the grainy, gray-scale image of a tiny human being, barely recognizable as such, in profile. I had imagined large, bold letters declaring “I’m a father!”. I had imagined joy. Instead, I’ll be sharing sorrow.
On Friday, December 5th, Holli and I discovered that we had been experiencing an Anembryonic pregnancy. What we were looking at, instead of the grainy, gray-scale image of a tiny human being, was the grainy, gray-scale image of an empty uterus. That’s when the sorrow began, and it has yet to abate.
It’s hard to describe how I feel. Soon after we discovered our pregnancy, I began to write to our new child. Below, I’ve included the final letter in that series, which can hopefully shed some light.
Dear Future Kid:
This will be the final letter I write to you.
We had an ultrasound today, and you were more than shy; you were already gone. We had been experiencing what is known as an Anembryonic pregnancy. Essentially, you were conceived, began to grow a short while, were unable to continue growing, and were reabsorbed. I like to think of it as you were so special that God wanted you back as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Holli’s body proceeded as if it was a viable pregnancy, even to the point of having symptoms (like sickness and loss of appetite) and physical changes (development of egg sac and enlarged uterus). All of these things happen on auto-pilot, the results of conception.
So it would seem that while we were praying for you to be healthy and safe, you were all-the-while up in Heaven being perfect. I like to imagine you helping prepare your future brothers and sisters for Earth, perhaps giving them tips on how to deal with their Mom and Dad. (Babies always forget that kind of stuff, but nice try. They’ll relearn it.)
We’re sad. We never even got to meet you. The images we saw were of a room prepared, but empty. It felt like some cruel joke, especially after how cautious I tried to be. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”, as it’s said, but this event will do a little of both. In time, the pain will fade. We will forget you; not entirely, but more and more until we meet you again, for the first time.
I still love you more than anything.
Yours,
Your Future Dad
Please, don’t feel obligated to leave a comment, but feel free to share your stories. Many of you have already expressed heart-felt condolences and best wishes, and we both greatly greatly appreciate them. We have a great group of friends and family as a support base. You were there for our happiness, and you’re still here at our grief.
We feel fortunate in that what happened isn’t an indication of anything wrong with either of us, and it also isn’t an indication of potential complications in pregnancies to come. Also, it was entirely painless for both mom and baby.
We intend to try again, possibly soon, but it’s hard to think of that now. When I look back at all the emotions that came with our first pregnancy, it’s difficult to imagine facing them all again after this. It feels like we’d only gotten to experience the hardships of pregnancy, without the benefits.
You can read Holli’s thoughts at her Empty Inside post on HolliRausch.com.
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There is so much I could say, that comes from my own life, but a pouring out of my grief from years ago will not abate yours. All I can say is that in my case the darkness became light and I have a deeper love and appreciation for the child that I have now, because I felt the loss of one that couldn’t be. I pray you and Holli will experience that to. A new day, a new year, a new hope for you both.
JeniMc
My heart, thoughts, and prayers are with you. I don’t have any stories to tell except when it is time, you and your wife will have a little one to hold. My this holiday season surrond you with family and friends to share with your time of sorrow and may they help lift your spirits. May the joy of Christmas fill your life with the holy spirit and let you find happiness once again.
Your Friend
Jen
Sorry guys. We’ve been there.
Bill
My miscarriage was probably very similar but it passed before the first appointment, happened the day before Bryce’s First Communion! Hard to celebrate but God has his reasons. The pain will subside, but always believe God has a plan and we don’t have to understand it or even like it but like you said Miles and it is one of my favorite sayings and I don’t know whether it was Grandpa Miles or GG…“that which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger!”
love you both and that baby will be joined with other family members we have never met.
Some know, most don’t. I lost a child in a similar fashion. It’s been a little over 3 years now. While I can say it gets easier with the passing of time, not a week goes by that I don’t see a little one around the age that my child would be, had it been what was meant to be, and I get that sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach (flushed with memories and emotions stemming from that exciting new pregnancy phase and all the best laid plans and hopes for our child’s future).
I do know and believe though that this is all part of some grand design and that our pain is not unjustified (although when it happens it never seems fair or right). My thoughts will be with you both and I can only hope that my child, albeit a bit older, will befriend / look out for and help your sweet little one adjust to a new, perfect life.
I’m always available to talk if it could help. 507.226.2009 or email.
Miles– I am SO sorry to hear this sad news. I can totally relate to what you and Holli are going through as I had a miscarrage almost 2 years ago now. As tough as it is now, I promise it will get easier with time…as for how much time, everyone is different. If I can give you any piece of advice — just hold Holli whenever she needs to cry (even if it is a month or two from now). Mike didn’t like to see me sad, but there were days I just needed to cry it out. So be that shoulder for Holli to lean on. After our miscarriage we found out that I had some issues and had to go through 8 months of fertility in order to conceive Wyatt — but now we have a beautiful little one to hold in our arms — and I have faith in the Lord that you and Holli will have this same luck in the future. Your letter was inspiring and I admire you for sharing those special thoughts with us. Take care and please know you and Holli are in my thoughts and prayers. Take care of yourselves. –Courtney
Miles and Holli.…I just wanted to express my deep sorrow for the loss that you are experiencing. I can only imagine the saddness of losing a child. It is amazing how much love you can have at the onset of a pregnancy. It is God’s gift.…love. I know you will be fabulous parents in the future and I just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you two during this time.
Love
Connie
Miles and Holli — my family will keep you both in our thoughts and prayers as you continue to cope with this sad news. All things considered, it sounds like you have a positive outlook on things. My grandmother once told me, “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle”. Although I’m sure this tests the limits, with His grace, he’ll see you through. Take care — Mark
Miles and Holli, I am so very sorry for your loss. You are in my prayers. God bless.
Miles (and Holli), I’m so sorry about your loss. Your words to your unborn child tug at my heart and I know with time God heals and gives renewal. We will be praying for you both and will be there with love and support. You are going to be a wonderful parents someday soon. Love ya, Amber
Deepest sympathies. Never easy dealing with this, but you’ll find your silver lining.
I know how it feels. My regards to you and your wife,
dave