I am Samantha and this is my story.
By the time our 15 weeks appointment with our doctor came along, the exciting news of our first pregnancy ever had been shared with quite a few people– our families, best friends and my boss at work. After all, I had been having morning sickness just about 24/7, and so by the time Christmas came around, it was painfully obvious to almost everyone we knew that I was pregnant!
We were told that our baby was thriving, with a very healthy heartbeat. We didn’t get to see our baby at the 15 weeks appointment in an ultrasound, and being first-time parents I didn’t listen to my gut feeling of wanting to see her. I chose to trust that everything was fine. After all, besides the fact that all I could stomach for breakfast at the time were buttermilk donuts, I was feeling great. I had definitely fully embraced the “new mommy” mindset.
It was later, at our 19 weeks check-up appointment, that our doctor was unable to find a heartbeat. What an odd moment this was. I had jokingly said, “Baby is being sneaky!” as our doctor went to fetch and roll in the ultrasound machine. It was only after a few minutes of expectantly waiting for him to say, “Oh, there’s the heartbeat!” that it was finally said: our baby really had passed away. There was no movement and she was three weeks too small in size, indicating that our baby had passed away as long as three weeks earlier. Our doctor said, “See, here is the heart. There is no movement. I am so sorry.” That was when everything changed for us and I was finally convinced.
My husband and I felt completely shattered and there were many moments of just holding each other and sobbing. My husband said he would support me no matter what I wanted to do. My body had not shown any signs of miscarriage that we could discern – no bleeding, no cramping and no pains that seemed unusual had occurred throughout the entire pregnancy. We had been trying, as soon as we found out we were pregnant, to do everything perfectly and ‘by the book’. This meant we were in the category of ‘missed late miscarriage’. For this reason, we needed to decide what to do relatively quickly, to avoid a spontaneous at-home miscarriage, which we were told would more than likely result in a trip to the emergency room.
As I read online everything I could find about the options available for late miscarriages, I knew that I desperately wanted to see our baby, and that I craved to keep her body in tact, if possible. All I could think about was wanting to experience as much as I could of what it is to be a mom: to give birth, to hold her, to see her and take pictures with her. So, despite the increased recovery time and possibility of needing multiple days in the hospital, we chose labor induction. Our appointment was set for only three days after we had learned of our baby’s passing.
In the end, our little one was delivered very fast! The moment came too unexpectedly for me even to have requested any pain medication. We were able to spend time with her, and those moments I will treasure forever and ever. No amount of time is ‘enough’, but at least we had that time.
The faith which my husband and I share is what has carried me through this entire loss. We named our baby Agatha, after St. Agatha, whose feast day it was on the day when I delivered our little saint on February 5th, 2022. At this time, the only way I can conceptualize this loss is by: holding on to my identity as a mother, even now, and of my husband as a father; believing that God has, in His mercy, welcomed our baby into heaven; and, believing wholeheartedly that one day, we will all be together in heaven, as one family reunited. Everything else is still background noise to my grieving heart and my foggy mind – but, I know that this too shall pass, and that Agatha will always be with us, and she will always be our baby girl. That is the greatest gift of all.