My 1st miscarriage was in early February 2013. We’d found out I was pregnant on Christmas morning while visiting our family in Florida. We were so excited to have the opportunity to give our 1 year old son a little brother or sister. Everything seemed to be going along great. We’d heard the baby’s gorgeously fast heartbeat at our 1st sonogram. But at our second check up less than a week later, we all stood in complete shock to find that our baby no longer had a heartbeat.
As I was pretty far along and my body was showing no signs of miscarrying on it’s own, we agreed to a DNC surgery. The emotional pain was excruciating. I felt like I was going through all the stages of grief at once: anger, sadness, resentment, numbness…etc. Mixed into that painful bag was shame and overwhelming sorrow.
Waiting to miscarry, or waiting to have the surgery is one of the worst experiences I’ve ever been through. It’s especially awful when friends or family say with big smiles “So how’s the baby? We’re so excited for you!” And you have to be the bearer of bad news and instead of them comforting you they expect you to comfort them. Of course no one really knows what to say.
After having the surgery, I was shocked at what happened. I guess I expected to wake up from the anesthesia in tears or super groggy and sad. Instead, I woke up to the sound of beautiful singing. I opened my eyes to see the doctors and nurses busily working in the recovery room, but when I closed my eyes I saw the most amazing thing. Was it a vision, a dream? It was beautiful. I watched as a little girl in a red dress walked into heaven. I knew in that instant it was my daughter. I’ve always had the gift of dreams and visions from the Lord. She was welcomed into heaven with open and loving arms by her heavenly family as they sang the 1st Noel. And there in my hospital recovery room, I overflowed with tears of joy. I couldn’t believe I was so happy after all I’d been through. It was a gift. I’m so grateful for this as it has brought me so much more hope and peace than I could’ve imagined.