Miscarriage: A Severe Mercy

We lost our Peter Basil when he was 7 weeks in the womb but didn’t realize his passing until he would have been close to 11 weeks. My body didn’t show any symptoms until I became violently ill for two days, which compelled me to the ER for fluids and to check on our baby.

When I underwent surprise surgery for appendicitis last December, I had a deep vulnerability take root that had never occupied my heart before. The CT scan with contrast taken to gauge the severity of the appendicitis was my first time being exposed to any type of medical surveillance near/around my womb except for the standard ultrasounds that are common during pregnancy. I cried as I lay underneath the CT scan, feeling more exposed and fragile than I had before as I reflected in that moment how remarkable it is that women are blessed to bear life and that so much has to go right in our bodies to co-create this miracle.

To be clear: having your appendix taken out does not impact child bearing. This was merely a moment of profound reflection on something that was a known (the beauty and gift of giving birth) but that took on a more intense hue as I grappled with a part of my body “failing” in a way I never thought it would and in a place that was close to what is most sacred about how I am formed as a woman. I was fearful to carry another child until I was absolutely positive that my body was healed from the surgery, even though and even when my surgeon assured me that I and a future child were not in any danger at the 2 week post-op.

I took this fear to Mass and felt a reassurance in my spirit from January – March to be open to life. We practice NFP and know that every time we are united in the marital embrace, a beautiful new life may result. And we rejoice in this. Yet, prudence for raising our existing three and awareness of being able to raise a fourth well was at the forefront of our minds and hearts. And still, I continued to feel led to “be open to life.” The fourth time I heard this whisper was at Adoration, and it sounded less like an invitation as much as it did a statement. A couple days later, a two pink lines popped up on a pregnancy test.

We were thrilled and yet, I had an anxiety creep over me that I had never dealt with before. I dropped dishes (okay, okay, this isn’t uncommon for me but I have been getting better at not being as clumsy!) and struggled to overcome nerves that were unique for me to struggle against. I prayed and invited friends to pray over this odd symptom.

At what we thought was the 8 week scan, the ultrasound tech had difficulty finding the heartbeat. A second attempt at the ultrasound confirmed the presence of the beat, albeit a fast one, and a gestational age that was closer to 6 weeks. As I excitedly sent pictures of our little one to Colin and friends, I felt a pause in my heart and a surprising thought, “at least we have this picture of our little one in case we lose them.” I was startled by this but assigned it to my more calculating and, truthfully, more negative mindset that I have been healing from since our son’s battle with cancer.

And then the ultrasound at the ER confirmed our loss.

My heart knew it when the tech at the hospital took the scan. I wept and prayed as I waited during the scan and then in the three hours following until the results were given. From our time with Ambrose and extensive stays in the hospital, I knew the news before the midlevel provided the report. I still needed to hear it said and even then, I held onto hope that there had been a mistake. Bleeding two days later confirmed what the ultrasound had shown.

There was a profound grief that was followed by a deep emptiness when my body naturally let go of our son three days after the bleeding started. I was buoyed by prayers, support, and the intimate guidance of dear friends who had also walked this loss and accompanied me in the waiting and in the processing of the miscarriage. This resource in particular (The Physical Process) helped Colin and I communicate our wish for my body to let go of our son naturally with our OBGYN. I pray that if anyone reading this has walked or is walking this loss that this site helps you as much as it did us. If you are walking this loss with a loved one, there is a list of ways to show support at the end of this post that blessed us and we pray can be a helpful guide for others.

I titled this post with the term Severe Mercy because this description struck my heart as we grieved the loss of the child we loved from the moment we knew of his existence and the realization that we would never see our boy smile, laugh, walk, or adventure this side of heaven. Yet our prayers were answered. We prayed since our knowledge of the pregnancy that our child would be blessed with health, protection, and above all – a heart made to glorify Our Lord. Basil will never know earthly suffering. He will never know a moment away from the loving embrace of our kind and loving Father. Furthermore, he was made to glorify The Lord and he is. The Lord created his eternal soul and blessed our family with unspeakable joy while I was favored to carry him this side of heaven. Basil is and will always be part of our family.

The Lord prepared our hearts for this sorrow and suffering. We came to the realization, acceptance, and peace when Ambrose was critically sick and near death that our worst case scenario for our children is their best case. We cannot give them Heaven, and we will be praying for their sanctification every day of their blessed lives, with the hope of eternal rest and repose of their souls. We now realize that in the agony of miscarriage, there is a divine and profound gift: one of our children is a Saint and he is interceding for his siblings, our family, and for the world. 

Even in our weeping, there is peace and in our sorrow, there is comfort. For in all that is done and occurs in this life, we trust that Our God is Love and all is made perfect in His good and holy Will.

Then Job answered the Lord and said,

“I know that You can do all things,
And that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted.
 ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’
Therefore I have declared that which I did not understand,
Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.”
 ‘Hear, now, and I will speak;
I will ask You, and You instruct me.’
 “I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear;
But now my eye sees You;

Job 42: 1-5

The following were gifts that blessed us as we journeyed and processed the loss of our son:

1. A Spiritual Bouquet
   • Prayer does make all the difference and it’s a blessing to receive specific prayer from friends. Always, but especially in the midst of suffering and grief.
2. A Bouquet of Flowers
   • Something soft and lovely, such as white flowers with greenery
3. Door Dash Gift Card or Bring a Meal
4. The Rabbit Listened
   • A friend gifted this to us to read to the children. Our three were too young to comprehend the loss but Colin and I found this book to be beautiful for our hearts as much as theirs.
5. Infant Loss Miscarriage Candle
   • This artist does a beautiful job and will include a personal note with the candle if you message her.
6. Engraved Bracelet
   • A dear friend sent a personalized bracelet with Basil’s initials and sweet note on the back. I appreciate wearing it and thinking of him, and her intention as a friend meant so much.

May your day be filled with what is beautiful and good ~ Caitlyn

Disclosure: This post contains Amazon affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I may earn a commission from qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you.