that gives families who have experienced pregnancy and infant loss the opportunity to remember and honor their babies. The event is hosted by a local organization called
Tiny Purpose offers year-round support to families who have experienced pregnancy and infant losses through a monthly support group, card ministry, hospital visits, encouraging events, and memory boxes and bracelets to remember those we miss and love. I feel so blessed to have this type of ministry right here in my own community. Their love and support have had a significant impact on my grief journey
and healing process. As a side note,
if you have anything like this in your own community, I would strongly
encourage you to participate (when you feel ready) because simply knowing you
are not alone can bring much healing as we walk this grief journey together.
"I would like to begin
by thanking Tiny Purpose for the
honor and privilege of sharing with each of you today. Thank you for entrusting me with this
opportunity. As Alaina said, my name is
Lynsey Rye. Although I do not know many
of you, I hope today can feel like we’re just sitting in our favorite place
together sharing our stories and journeys over a cup of coffee or tea –
depending on your preference.
Take a brief second to
look at those around you. Each one of us
has our own unique story, yet all of us have been touched by the life or lives
of those we honor and remember today. I
do not know the details of your story and I won’t pretend to understand
everything you have felt or experienced, but I do want to say “thank you for
reminding me that I am not alone”. I am
saddened by the amount of people here who have been affected by pregnancy and infant
loss and stillbirths, but I am blessed by the opportunity to unite with others
to honor and remember the precious lives that have deeply and significantly
impacted each of ours.
Just as our stories
differ, I realize that today each of us may be in a different place on our
grief journey. For some of you, it has been five, ten, fifteen, twenty, or more years since your loss. For others, it has been just a year. For others still, your loss is fresh - it has
been only days, weeks, or months since you were forced to say “goodbye”. Just six days prior to last year’s Walk to Remember, my husband and I were
informed that we had had our second miscarriage. Needless to say, our wounds were fresh.
Tuesday of this week
marked one year since our second miscarriage.
During the weeks leading up to this anniversary, memories from the
events of last year have flooded my mind.
I have thought of our second pregnancy and the life it represented…our
sweet 'Baby J'. I have cried myself to
sleep. I have felt the vast longing in
my heart to hold our babies. I have felt
the emptiness that exists in their absence.
I have felt the deep grief that comes from knowing things are not what they
were “supposed to be”. I have felt the
terrifying fear of losing of another child.
I have felt the uncertainty and fear of whether or not we will ever be
able to hold a child of our own on this earth.
I have felt the profound sadness and heartache and pain of losing a
child.
On some days, I want to
hide these feelings or run away from them because they hurt. But today I am choosing to be authentic. Because I know I am in the company of those
who have felt this pain and cried these tears.
Although the details of our stories vary, I know we have all felt the
heartache of losing a child.
So I would like to ask
you a question…Will you join me in authenticity today? Don’t worry…I am not going to ask you to come
up to this microphone and share your feelings with everyone, but I do want to
invite you to tune into what your heart is feeling.
It takes courage and
bravery to attend an event like today.
We all made a choice to honor and remember our babies today even if it
hurts. This is courage. This is strength. This is love.
A day like today can
bring a variety of emotions. Today, I
feel vulnerable as I share my heart with each of you. I feel sadness as my heart aches for our
babies. I feel emptiness as my arms long
to hold them. I feel lots and lots of
love for our babies. And I feel proud to
their mother.
So again, I want to
invite you to tune into what your heart is feeling today. Do you feel…
Hurt? Pain?
Emptiness? Longing? Heartache? Numbness? Grief?
Fear? Sadness? Brokenness?
Vulnerability? Joy? Hope?
Peace? Celebration? Remembrance?
We have all experienced
an array of thoughts and feelings as we have lived our stories and walked these
journeys that unite us today. Yet,
wherever you are on your journey, no matter what your story is, Jesus has the
desire and ability to meet you right where you are today [Even as you read this right now] and I have been
praying that He will.
So before we go any
further, let me take just a moment to pray for each of you.
Now let’s get back to those
cups of coffee or tea as we sit across the table from each other and share our
stories. Please allow me to begin by
sharing our story with you.
About a month after our
first loss, I started a blog called
Missed
Miscarriages and Mourning Mommies. This
blog became a significant part of my journey towards healing. Writing helps me process my thoughts and
feelings and find healing in the midst of hurt.
My hope for the blog was that it would not only be an outlet to help me
cope, but would also be a support and encouragement to others who have
experienced loss as well. I would like
to share excerpts from my very
first blog entry with you as it embodies where this
chapter of our story – the chapter of our grief and loss – begins.
'I remember that
day clearly, which is ironic since the entire day simultaneous feels very
foggy. May 10, 2012, the day that was supposed to be one
of the most exciting things my husband and I have ever experienced. That
day, we woke up a little earlier than normal to attend our first ultrasound
appointment together. We were the doctor's first appointment of the day.
I had been dreaming of this day since we took our first pregnancy test on
Easter weekend. Dreaming of the first time we would be able to see our
baby and longing for the peace I hoped it would bring in knowing our baby was
okay. I had been counting down the days until our first ultrasound in
much anticipation. However, buried deep within my heart was this haunting
fear that our baby's heartbeat would not be heard….
….As we entered
the door to my doctor's office...I felt a certain nervous excitement,
which made me even more thankful that my husband was by my side. We had
only been sitting down for about five minutes before the nurse called my name.
We headed to the room where the ultrasound would be conducted.
After updating some medical history and getting my blood pressure
checked, the nurse assured us that the doctor would be in shortly.
As our doctor
entered the room, my nervous excitement momentarily increased...‘This is it’, I
thought to myself. She introduced herself and I introduced my husband.
Then without hesitation she motioned me to come over to the bed so we
could begin the ultrasound. She got the machine ready and put the warm
ointment on my belly and began moving the wand back and forth. I looked
at the screen for a few seconds then choose to look at my husband instead
because my full fledged fear of what may or may not be seen momentarily
overwhelmed me.
‘There's your
baby’, the doctor said after what seemed to be ten to fifteen minutes, although
it was probably only five in reality. I looked longingly with some peace.
Although to be honest, I had no idea what I was supposed to be looking
at, everything seemed jumbled and unclear. She continued to move the wand
back and forth and I watched her as her eyebrows communicated that she was
concentrating intensely, searching for something that should be found.
Again, my fear
overcame me and I choose to look in the opposite direction. Eventually after
a long silence, she said, 'I cannot find your baby's heartbeat so I'm
going to send you to the hospital for another ultrasound. Their
technology is better than ours and there are times when they can find it when I
can't.' I choked back my tears momentarily, but as soon as she left
the room I looked at my husband and they began to flow freely. I am
certain that he could see the fear plastered on my face.
In my mind I
thought, ‘This is my worst fear coming to life’. My husband attempted to
encourage me by sharing that he thought he saw movement on the screen where the
heartbeat was supposed to be. I attempted to receive his words, but all I
could think was, ‘Oh no...This is exactly what I feared would happen’.
Although my heart was full of a million emotions and my mind was
afflicted by fear, I began praying asking for God to help us...
….When we arrived at the hospital, the ultrasound technician explained that she would not be able to give
us any information while we were there today, but that we were to report to our
doctor's office afterwards to hear the results. We shook our heads in
acknowledgement and agreement…They took picture after picture and I attempted
to wait patiently. But by now my bladder was so full, it was aching.
I closed my eyes in an attempt to escape my present reality, and began
talking to God about our present circumstances with short, repetitive
statements. I do not remember everything we talked about in that moment,
but I do remember saying, ‘If this is really happening, I know You'll help us
get through this’. And although I meant it with all my heart, deep down I
hoped that by some miracle our baby would have heartbeat.
After two of ultrasounds…we made our way out
to the hospital parking lot. As we were walking to our car, I said to my
husband, ‘Can we just go home instead of going back to the doctor's office?’
It was a rhetorical question, but that's really what my heart wanted.
I did not want to go back to the doctor's office to hear what I thought
was coming. I wanted to avoid that conversation with all that was in me.
Plus, I was already so exhausted emotionally and physically, I did not
feel like I could even survive the conversation.
After submitting
to reality, we headed to my doctor's office, checked in at the front desk, and
waited in the lobby for what seemed like an eternity. It was one of the
longest moments in my life. My husband checked Facebook and I played
Bubble Breaker on my phone in an attempt to not think about what felt like impending
news. Finally, my name was called and although I did not want to hear
what I thought was coming, I really wanted to know what the results were.
After we entered
the room, the doctor came in and began speaking aloud my worst nightmare, ‘The
hospital confirmed what I thought to be true, your baby does not have a
heartbeat’. She then proceeded to say many more things that I tried to
listen to wide-eyed in a feeble attempt to hold back the tears. After she
finished, she walked out to get something. I looked at my husband and
lost it, yet again. He came over and stood by me as I leaned my head on
his leg sobbing.
After we left, I
felt simultaneously numb and sad beyond belief, and so incredibly exhausted.
I had never experienced something so heartbreaking before. I had
never experienced my worst nightmare actually come to life. Yes, I had
experienced painful things before and had fears and worries come to life, but
never my worst nightmare. My heart was broken. Yet
my heart clung to the prayer I had spoken earlier, the promise that God would
take care of us even in the midst of this.'
Now let’s skip ahead
several pages to the next part of our story [See
My Worst Nightmare - Take Two for my original blog entry documenting our second miscarriage].
On Friday, October 12, 2012, I woke up and realized I was
spotting. I was just shy of eight weeks pregnant. Terrifying fear paralyzed my
heart. My biggest fear: Having another miscarriage. I began to pray and asked my husband to pray
as well. I pleaded with God that our
baby would be okay and hoped
with everything within me that this did not mean my biggest fear was coming to
life, yet again.
Since our first
miscarriage was a missed miscarriage that resulted in a D & C, I had no
clue what a natural miscarriage was like.
And as evening approached, thing were progressively getting worse. My doctor’s office had tried to appease my
worries earlier in the day, but as things continued to progress so did my
fear. When Saturday arrived, I experienced
things that were honestly traumatizing. I
knew very well that what I was experiencing could be a miscarriage, yet at the
same time my hope, optimism, and denial wanted to believe something different.
After doing some
research, I came to the realization that what I was experiencing was more likely
than a miscarriage. And when Monday
morning arrived, my doctor’s office confirmed that this was in fact the case. Once again, I was feeling exhausted,
heart-broken, and numb simultaneously. I
knew firsthand that there were painful, dark days ahead and many more emotions
to come, but I was choosing to trust that God would bring us through this since
He carried us through once before.
