Loss, Love and the Will to Keep Fighting

By: Nikki Grayson

We say it all the time, “I love you” or “I love that.” I wonder how many times a day we express it, let alone in a week. “Love” is such a strong word. We love our husbands, our family, our professions, and sometimes even a piece of cake.

I have never known the magnitude of the word love until I saw that faint line on my first pregnancy test.

I instantly had an over abundance of love for our baby. I didn’t care if we had a boy or a girl, it didn’t matter. I had a baby growing inside of me. I was already dreaming of how I would surprise everyone, watch my belly grow, feel the baby’s first kicks, the day they would be born, and my imagination even went as far as how they would be as a teenager! Everywhere I went, I knew my baby was right there with me.

But for some of us, we got that awful news that we never thought would happen to “me.” The “I’m sorry, but I think you’re having a miscarriage” news and then you’re sent on your way home to “see what happens.” You know your baby is gone, but you cling to hope that maybe the doctor is wrong. It’s an awful feeling, and I lost so much in that one moment, not only my baby, but all of the dreams I had from the time I got the positive test. You may not have known him or her, but you love your baby. Losing a baby prematurely is such a difficult loss, one that many others do not understand.

I was now part of the “1 in 4 women,” that statistically I found after looking for information after my loss, the statistics I never thought I’d be grouped into.

I lost my first baby at 7 weeks after I went into the emergency room for bleeding. I was heartbroken, the thought of a miscarriage never crossed my mind. I’d only known one person who had a miscarriage. I was devastated and felt so alone.

I went on to have two more early miscarriages, and my hope of ever holding my own child diminished greatly. My doctor told me it was probably just “bad luck,” others would say “you can adopt,” but those types of comments were so hurtful. We don’t tell people who’ve lost a husband, “you can just remarry” or someone with a terminal cancer diagnosis, “it’s just bad luck.”

We are moms who have lost our babies, and we can grieve however we need to.

I saw a specialist, but all the tests came back normal. A year later I became pregnant with fertility medications. At seven and a half weeks, I ended up in the emergency room with an ectopic pregnancy diagnosis. This baby finally had a heartbeat I was able to hear. Lying in bed after my emergency surgery, I fell apart.

Why couldn’t I have a baby?
Was anyone else going through this?
I couldn’t find comfort in anyone or anything, but I knew I was not giving up yet.

A few months and one less fallopian tube later, we began looking into IVF. I felt excitement again and a small sliver of hope. Almost a year later. we began the process. We retrieved 13 eggs, but ended up with just three embryos. We transferred two of them, froze the third embryo, and waited for the pregnancy test day.

I already loved those little embryos, and I was so hopeful. Unfortunately, the test came back negative.

I felt defeated and hopeless, but a couple of months later, I was ready to fight infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss again. We went in for the transfer of our last embryo. Five days later, I took my own test and saw a faint positive. I was shocked, I cried, I told everyone, I was elated, but I was scared every day I would lose this little baby. Every ultrasound showed our little boy growing as he should. We had so much hope he was the one!

I bought my own doppler and listened to his heartbeat every day. At 16 weeks and 5 days, I couldn’t find his heartbeat where I always found it. The ultrasound with my doctor that day confirmed my worst fear, and I learned my labor would have to be induced.

I delivered my sweet baby boy, Hunter, on January 7th at 1:22 pm. He was absolutely perfect in every way. The love I felt for our baby as I held him was indescribable.

We love our babies, no matter when we lose them. Be confident in this fact when you tell your story to others. The first definition of love on Google is “an intense feeling of deep affection.” Babies fill parents with feelings of unconditional love.

As moms of miscarried little ones, we will always have loss etched in our hearts.

Give yourself time, and as cheesy as it may sound, please follow your heart. Keep fighting for what you want and don’t give up. The pain after a loss feels like it takes your breath away, and the journey sometimes feels like you’re treading through mud. You may feel desolate and be disheartened.

We have to take heart and rest assured there is always a glimmer of hope. With all the setbacks, losses, or what the doctors report, time passes no matter what, so use that time to heal and learn how to press on. Share your story, own it. We may not have a baby to hold in our arms, but we are moms, and we have experienced a tremendous heartbreak. Keep fighting for your miracle, take it one day at a time, and find ways to treasure your babies.

About Nikki Grayson
I am a mom to 5 babies lost through miscarriages, the most recent one being my son at 16 weeks pregnant. I am a nurse, and I live with my husband and two dogs. We love to take walks, ride four wheelers, and do anything that involves being outdoors! I want others that are walking this journey of infertility and pregnancy loss to know they are not alone.

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