Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
Tonight has been a rough night. Grief comes and goes in stages. It smacks you out of the blue and the tears don’t stop streaming down your face. Reality sinks in. That glimmer of hope for a miracle to happen seems to be fading quicker.
Because I’m in pain, all i can think about is everything that has happened. Reliving each moment. Each loss.
You get to this point where you are finally happy, you’ve given your body and mind time to heal from your previous losses. You took the right steps, got on the right medications, reached out to several doctors for opinions, and trusted in God’s plan, only to have it all ripped out from under you once again.
As we sat in the doctor’s office anxiously waiting to see our baby, we were all so excited. This was the first time we had brought Cole with us, it was my birthday, baby had just been doing great and all was well, our doctor was over the moon excited for us and couldn’t wait to see our little bean.
Those next few moments, which felt like hours, of her searching for a heartbeat and checking every possible thing. That sinking feeling in your chest. The I can’t even look at my husband because I feel so bad I’ve lost another child. The look on your son’s face because he doesn’t know why mama is crying. The agony of having them search and search and search for a heartbeat and take measurements all while you are processing the loss of another child. Hell.
You’re laying there, vulnerable in every way. Empty, in every way. Not believing that this is real life. This pregnancy, this one was supposed to work. We were told we would be holding our baby in a few short months. Not hearing or seeing a heartbeat, impossible.
Our doctor just held me, at a loss for words, and in tears. We both knew this was going to be a great appointment, and it had shocked us all.
I knew the next steps. I would sit in the room, crying, waiting for the nurse to come in and tell me what my options were. All awhile sitting in the room, listening to other moms hearing their baby’s heartbeat. And then when you finally get to leave, you walk back out into the waiting room where you are surrounded by several very pregnant moms. All while you are empty, completely empty.
Our Story - The Real and Raw Version 
Beautiful, heartfelt words. I stumbled upon this tonight after the earthquake that awoke so many of us. While my heart was still racing from the sudden jolt awake; your story and calming voice in sharing it gave me a sense of peace! Thank you for being brave enough to share with us. Lifting prayers over you and your family for continued hope as you move forward! 🙏🏻❤️
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Oh Megan I had no idea that your family is going through this! Your blog is heart breaking and beautiful all at the same time! My daughter went through the same thing! I was in the room when they couldn’t find the heartbeat. It was so terribly sad. All I could do is hold her and cry! Cole has such a great mom and dad! Sending you a BIG HUG! 🤗🤗. I love this family ❤️❤️
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Oh my dear girl – how I wish I could take this pain away, how I wish I could see you holding your little bundle of joy, how I wish I could help you with understanding the ‘why’, how I wish I could have the right words to say – but I don’t. Tears stream down my face as I read the pain and emptiness. I am here, I will listen, I grieve with you, I will cry out with you in the middle of the night when the shock of it all comes flooding back. Know that you are loved more than you can imagine. And truly, I am deeply sorry.
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Much love to you and Jay, Megan. I admire your courage to share, and the strength you have in dealing with the indescribable pain and loss.
Having lost a child myself, its grief I know all too well. If you ever want to chat, please don’t hesitate to reach out.
X♡X♡
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I know you don’t really know me, but I love you. I love your family. I am so sorry. I hate that you even have to know what this feels like or that you have to walk through this again. No one can possibly understand the kind of pain that you are in unless they too have walked this path….and even then, it is not the exact same pain that you have. I know it will not make you feel any better now, but your story is already helping another momma who has been walking through this too….your story is helping someone else feel like they are not alone. I won’t pretend to even know the right words to bring you comfort, nor will I tell you all the things that you don’t want to hear at this time ….. I will simply say I love you. I am praying. If I were there I would sit with you and hug you and cry with you. I would just be with you. ❤
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This same day I also learned that my baby Alisons heartbeat couldnt be heard anymore, my doctor friend told me it might be a cord accident. I couldnt understand what to feel but just tried to be strong as I am still hoping for a miracle, until another ultrasound confirmed it. Yes it is never easy, especiay for you, but lets continue to find strength in Him. Our God knows whats best for us. I pray for you and your family too.
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