They say that up to 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage. So many stories of loss untold. A few weeks ago, we lost our second child, Precious, aged 9 weeks, through an ectopic pregnancy. This is our story of losing Precious, and finding healing.
The hardest thing about starting the story is that there’s no script that I know to use. There was no birth announcement. We don’t know at what particular moment Precious died. We don’t know where Precious’ body is. There was no gender reveal. We named them Precious, because we became acutely aware of how precious every life is, whether seen or unseen. Sharing Precious’ story is one way we can give them the dignity of acknowledging their personhood, their inherent value and worth. They were precious to us.
The most beautiful thing about Precious’ story is that they taught us so much. Precious’ life was fragile and vicarious from the start. Two negative home pregnancy tests convinced me that I wasn’t pregnant, but after seeing the GP for ongoing symptoms, a pregnancy was confirmed. Joy, mixed with fear. Is something wrong? Ensuing days and weeks were a blur of blood tests, scans, hospital visits. All the tests came back abnormal, but inconclusive. It seemed evident I was miscarrying this child, but was something else wrong?
I called out to God. Where are you? “For troubles without number have surrounded me, my iniquities have overtaken me; I am unable to see. They are more than the hairs of my head, and my courage leaves me. Lord, be pleased to rescue me; hurry to help me, Lord… I am oppressed and needy; may the Lord think of me. You are my helper and my deliverer; my God, do not delay.” (Psalm 40). “Why do you hide and forget our affliction and oppression? For we have sunk down to the dust; our bodies cling to the ground. Rise up! Help us! Redeem us because of your faithful love.” (Psalm 44).
He answered. “The Lord is my shepherd; I have what I need… Even when I go through the darkest valley, I fear no danger, for you are with me.” (Psalm 23). “God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found in times of trouble. Therefore we will not be afraid, though the earth trembles and the mountains topple into the depths of the seas, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with its turmoil.” (Psalm 46).
I’m grateful for how Precious taught me to turn back to God and find my refuge in him. Ryan has been amazing through all of this, and our family, friends and workmates who were aware were wonderful; but there are bigger questions raised for me when something like this happens that they don’t have the power to answer. Things like, why does shit stuff just happen so randomly? Why does this unborn baby need to die before it gets to experience at least a little bit of the good and beauty in the world? If my life is at risk, what will happen if I die? Will I be OK? Will Hugo & Ryan be OK? God’s story helps me to wrestle with all that. He made the world. He knows what went wrong. With extravagant love he went to extreme lengths to make everything wrong right. He can be trusted with all my questions, and my heart can be at rest.
Things did get complicated. After two weeks of inconclusive tests, finally, an answer: you have an ectopic pregnancy. Precious was implanted in my fallopian tube, instead of where they should have been in my uterus. The implications were crushing: Precious couldn’t survive there. Nothing could be done to move them to the ‘right’ place. If allowed to keep growing, the embryo would likely rupture, causing internal bleeding and a life threatening crisis for me. I was told that I needed to choose a course of action within a couple of hours – either surgery to remove the baby, or a low dose chemo which would allow the baby to die and pass naturally.
So, either my baby dies, or we both die?
THAT’S NOT EVEN A CHOICE.
With broken hearts, we chose the chemo option. It will be a while until I heal from that day, I think. The trauma of being stuck between two tragic outcomes. We would be without a baby, or Hugo would be without a Mum. Even while they insisted that there was absolutely no way that Precious would or could survive, there’s a sadness and guilt that lingers, knowing that I allowed their death to be hastened. Many people I’ve mentioned our loss to have never heard of ectopic pregnancies, and I’d never thought much about it either. But now on the other side, I think it’s important for people to understand this part of the story – that people can sometimes carry an unreasonable sense of personal responsibility for the loss. What’s helping me most is reminders from people close to me that I’ve already accepted that I could never get life ‘right’ enough to make my own way back into relationship with God, and that God’s love was already poured out for me on the cross when Jesus died on the cross, long before I even asked for his forgiveness. And that it will take time to heal.
We said goodbye and started to grieve the baby we’d never hold, never comfort, never sing to, never laugh with. I imagined all the names I would’ve chosen, all the things I would’ve prepared. I thought about their personality, everything they would’ve added to our lives and contributed to our world. I thought about all the sibling fights they would’ve had with Hugo, and I suddenly felt that Hugo had a loneliness that he didn’t seem to have before. I wondered where Precious was. Is there life after death for unborn babies? I thought about Jesus’ promise… “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live. Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” (John 11: 25-26). I wondered if that could be true for Precious. I thought of Precious leaving this world and finding safety in Jesus’ arms. And my heart started to heal.
If you’ve ever experienced pregnancy loss, I’d love to hear your story. Or maybe someone close to you needs to hear it. When we were in the midst of the loss, I tried to think of people close to me who might’ve been through something similar, so I could somehow connect and process what was happening. It was hard! It’s so normal for these stories to stay within our own walls (and totally OK if that’s what you need to heal). But if you feel able, please share it somehow. Many hearts are still healing and needing the connection of someone who understands.
thirty. 