Why I say my child’s name {my miscarriage story}

February 10, 2017. I walked out of the bathroom that evening, pregnancy test in hand. “I’m pregnant!” I squealed to my husband. He came over and gave me one of the biggest hugs I’ve ever felt him give. It was a moment of pure joy between us. After trying for months to conceive we finally had a positive come up. We finally could start our journey into parenthood, and we were absolutely over the moon. That same night we ordered books on pregnancy and parenting so we could get a quick start on studying up. We made plans, took a “bump” picture, and just reveled in the life we had created. I was roughly 4 weeks and 2 days when we found out.

The weekend after finding out was filled with just as much happiness. We read our books together and talked about what we were finding. I was already coming up with ideas on how to surprise our families with the news. We talked about baby names and came up with a nickname for our love - our little poppy seed.

Everything seemed to be falling into place for us.

The thing we had been hoping for and had been trying so hard to have was finally here and we were going to make the most out of every moment. We just didn’t know then that we only had so many moments to cherish.

February 13, 2017. I woke up that morning for work just like any other day. My husband had already left for his job and I was getting myself ready and out the door. When I started driving I felt something odd in my stomach. I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling but I just chalked it up to either gas or my body getting used to being pregnant. Cramping was normal in the beginning, right? I remember reading that over the weekend. Everything is ok. I got into work and the day began. I was working as an inpatient addictions counselor at the time and had patients to see and a group therapy session to prepare for, so that was my focus. I went into the group session feeling pretty good. The cramping had stopped and I didn’t worry anymore. As the session went on, though, things began to change. I had to stand at one point and something just wasn’t right… but I couldn’t do anything about it. I had to focus on my patients. But what is going on that I’m feeling? Group was finally over and everyone went off to lunch. I ran to the nearest bathroom I could, not realizing my world was about to crumble around me.

There was blood - not just a little bit.

I immediately start to cry. I call my doctor and I’m told to go to the nearest ER. I tell my supervisor what’s going on before I rush out the door to get to the ER. I call my husband. I call my parents. I do whatever I can to try and distract myself. My husband and my parents get there quickly and we all just wait for tests and to talk to doctors. The ER felt cold and unfeeling and it didn’t help that the staff seemed uninterested in my situation. But after all the tests were taken and results came back what my husband and I feared most was our reality. There was no evidence to show that I was pregnant. Our baby was gone. I was 4 weeks and 5 days along.



My husband and I grieve in very different ways.

He tends to keep his emotions in check and not realize how much he’s hurting whereas I am very vocal and I try and seek out comfort in others. He became my rock and I tried to be his when he would let me. But we didn’t have long to grieve before we conceived again. A month later I was pregnant with our son and he was a healthy happy baby born later that year in November. That became somewhat of an emotional relief for us in a way, but it also became a struggle because we weren’t able to process everything we thought and felt about the loss of our first baby. I tried finding ways to process and bring my husband back out of his shell. One of those ways was naming our baby. Harper. Harper was our first child that I lost at roughly 4 weeks 5 days along. And that name opened up the gates to allow us to talk through how that miscarriage affected us. It was a cathartic moment and made our child more real - I wanted that. I wanted our child to be real and to stay real, because Harper was real, even for just a brief moment in time. That moment in time was ours with Harper and we loved every second. I wanted the world to understand that too, so I started talking about Harper with others and using the name. It was met with a mixture of discomfort and pity. People didn’t know what to say when we would talk about Harper or even say the name. The tone of the conversation, regardless of the tone I was using, drastically changed even at the mere mention of our miscarriage or hearing Harper’s name. I felt guilty because it was important, and still is important, that people know my child and the joy Harper brought to us…but it seemed like doing so was at the expense of others’ comfort around us. So the question became what was more important, everyone else’s comfort or my need to feel like my child was/is valid?

I decided along this journey that I refuse to relent on talking about my baby.

My goal is never to make people uncomfortable, but to know a large part of my journey as a mother and a large part of my husband’s journey as a father. We created a life that did not get the chance to experience this world with us and we grieve it every day in our own way. I don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable hearing about my child. I want them to understand that this child had meaning in this world. I want them to understand that this child was loved and provided joy. I want to feel like its ok for me to still love that child. I want to break down walls and shatter stigma against talking about miscarriages and infant loss, but that can’t happen without these conversations.



So if I ever talk with you about my miscarriage or if I say Harper’s name casually in conversation, I’m not doing it for attention. I’m not talking about it to make you uncomfortable or bring down the mood. I do it because that is my reality. It is the reality of my family that we have suffered a loss and I am trying to, in my own way, make sure that loss is seen as valid. Because this loss is valid to us, no matter how soon it was in the pregnancy. And I think that most people who have experienced what we have want the same thing. So I guess I also am wanting to pave the way for other women to feel like they can share their story too.

Harper. My child’s name is Harper and I lost this child due to an early miscarriage. And I feel ok saying that and talking to you about it. I just hope others can feel ok about that too.

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