...again, it wasn't my fault.

My story begins as a 26 year old woman; a few years of marriage under her belt. We were having so much fun just being married, traveling, sleeping in (amen!) and enjoying our life together. On Christmas Eve we were lying in bed, talking about what we thought the new year would hold and decided that it was time to try – like really try and not be afraid how our lives would be shifted with the presence of a little houseguest for the next 18+ years. We were ready! A few months later, there it was two dark blue lines; I was amazed, excited and scared!

We told everyone, I feel like we pretty much shouted it from the roof tops; we were so ecstatic! We went in to the OB at about 11 weeks and had an ultrasound to determine my “official” due date. There is was a little bean and a flicker of a heart! Oh, that tiny little firework in my body – DNA being weaved together, part my husband and part me and a whole lot of heaven! About a week later I noticed some spotting; after a frantic call to the Dr. I was told to keep and eye on it – could just be residual bleeding, nothing to worry about. The spotting would come and go; I had become terrified of going to the bathroom, terrified of that piece of toilet paper I would have to wipe with – terrified to see the bright blood red spots that had begun.

It was now Mother’s Day; a brunch after church was planned with my parents and my in-laws and all the grandparents. During church I just felt different; something was missing, it’s like I knew deep down but didn’t want to believe it. We rushed to the ER, they did an ultrasound and we saw that beautiful flicker once again but the bleeding wouldn’t stop. I was sent home and a few hours later my dreams, our baby, our hopes, our little love was gone – just like that. I saw looking at my child, my child in the toilet. I could not function; I could not come to terms with the horrific scene that I was witness to.

I felt like I did something, like it was God’s way of telling me I was a horrible mother already and didn’t deserve to be one. I mean, Mother’s day, my first Mother’s day and my baby was in the toilet. It has been years and it still shakes me to my core. The grieving period was long, hard and lonely. Friends saying that I could always adopt, that something was “wrong” with the baby so it’s for the best. People loving me but not knowing what to say – filling the silence with attempts to make me feel better but only some that increased my anxiety that I was indeed not set to be a mother. Having a horrible boss from a horrible job calling me to see when I would come back to work, acting like I was just home with the stomach flu.

Eventually, we were ready to try again and a few months later….we saw those two blue lines again!!! Little did we know we were on another roller coaster. This time around I was feeling more symptoms and a whole lot of morning sickness. We anxiously awaited the first appointment to see that little heart fluttering. I had no spotting and was feeling so confident this time; how can it happen again to us? There is just no way. On that Fall afternoon we walk down the steps into the little dark room, the room where we would see our little being in it’s dark place of comfort. The technician was so quiet, doing a lot of checks and rechecks, asking me about my dates, perhaps I had them wrong, maybe I was a month behind? We were sent home not with a picture of our baby but with reassurance that the doctor would be calling us soon. I waited and waiting, hours later I finally called and demanded to speak with the doctor. She calmly told me that it looks like I have a blighted ovum and went on to explain what this was and that again it wasn’t my fault.

We were devastated once again. Weeks went on, waiting for the spotting to begin. After a month of waiting and feeling pregnant we decided to schedule a D&C. On our wedding anniversary our second baby was removed from my body. I can’t put into words the feeling of loss that I have had, the strain that loss had put on our marriage for a time, feelings of inadequacy, feelings of unworthiness, and anger as to why. We went on to have a beautiful, perfect brown eyed baby girl in February of 2011. We named her Zoe Blue; Zoe means LIFE, and that she gave to me once again. She filled the pieces of me that were taken away and my heart had never felt so consumed with a love like this.

After Zoe we lost another baby to miscarriage early on. On Zoe’s 2nd birthday we were able to announce with certainty that our family would be expanding. In the fall of 2013 our son Finn Samuel was born. Who knew that you could have so much love to give and feel? My cup was running over. Zoe and Finn have changed my life; they have made me whole and given me peace. Our days are busy and filled with spilled milk and pop-tart crumbs in the new carpet and sloppy kisses and belly laughs. They saved me, they saved us. I now have a passion for hurting women who have experienced the loss of a child. I want to care for them, love them and stand in the silence with them. I want people to know this is real grief and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I thank you for creating this movie and I would love to be a part of this project!