Category: Pregnancy After Loss

This past Sunday/Father’s Day Chet was 34 weeks and 5 days along, the exact gestation Ginny was when she passed away. Chet moved a lot for me that day which gave me such peace of mind. God did comfort me on that day as he promised (RE: Waiting).

Tuesday I was 35 weeks and officially more pregnant than I have ever been. It felt good to hit that milestone…. then I started having contractions at around 6:30pm. Seriously!? I tracked them for a couple hours. They were painless but coming pretty consistently at between 7 and 12 minutes, so we called the after-hours line. The doctor told me to come in to be monitored since I’m only 35 weeks and high-risk. She said to be sure to bring the hospital bags. I thought to myself, “Well I made it one day further.” 

Daniel and I arrived at the hospital around 9:30pm. Thankfully we were both allowed in since I was going to Labor and Delivery Unit. They screened us, took our temperatures, and gave me a mask. Daniel kept his homemade mask. We made our way up to the Labor and Delivery floor where we hadn’t been since giving birth to Ginny. It looked the same except for a new wall of plexiglass. 

They took us into a triage room and started monitoring my contractions and Chet’s heart rate. It was clear I was having contractions every few minutes. Chet’s heartbeat looked great! My cervix was checked for dilation while they took swabs to check for any infection that could cause preterm labor. I was 2 cm dilated! Daniel and I looked at each other in shock behind the masks. They told me to drink a bunch of water and they would come back to check again in a couple hours. Two hours later, I was 3cm dilated! They decided to admit me to the antepartum unit. 

Prior to being admitted, I had to test negative for COVID-19. I was given one of those nasty nasal swabs. It was unpleasant but didn’t last long. It does feel like it touches your brain! Unsurprisingly my test came back negative. That meant that we don’t have to wear masks in the hospital room when we were by ourselves, but once a person comes in, we had to put masks back on. 

I was given an IV and quickly pumped with fluids. I was given one of two steroid shots to help Chet’s lungs mature in case he is on his way early. The next would be given in 24 hours, so we knew we would be at the hospital at least that much longer. We then moved to the antepartum unit. Chet and I continued to be monitored. I was checked again at 2am and had thankfully stayed at 3cm. I didn’t sleep much at all. Contractions kept coming, more intense but less consistent. Was Baby Chet coming today? Would my labor stop, and we’d be sent home? Would I be in limbo being monitored there for days?

In the morning, I was taken to get an ultrasound. Daniel couldn’t come with me. It was surreal to walk the halls of the hospital to the ultrasound clinic where we found out Ginny had died… in a gown and socks. The waiting room and halls were dark as it was still before normal hours. Everything was just different enough to keep from triggering anxiety. I tried not to think too hard about where I was. A sweet sonographer brought me into the room. I got to see Chet’s cute face again. The sonographer pointed out that he has lots of hair! We saw him squirm and take practice breaths. She measured him as well as the fluid around him. She said he is measuring an estimated 7.5 lbs! The average baby at 35 weeks measures around 5 lbs. He’s continuing to grow A LOT! 

I returned to the room and got to bring Daniel a couple of cute profile pictures. Before long, a team of MFM doctors came to our room. Since UNC is a teaching hospital, there was an attending doctor, a fellow, a resident, and an intern – all women. They explained that Chet looks great on the ultrasound and that he is indeed a big baby. They also explained that my amniotic fluid levels had increased even more from my ultrasound 3 weeks ago. They suspected that, even though I passed my glucose test several weeks earlier, I may have developed late gestational diabetes. This would explain Chet’s big size and the extra fluid. They would be monitoring my blood sugar after each meal. They explained that if Chet was born at 35 weeks, he would likely not have long term health problems but may have trouble with blood sugar and jaundice, both treatable. He may have to spend a little time in the NICU. They said they’d come back later to check my cervix again to see if labor was progressing. If labor stops progressing, they would send me home the next day after I get my second steroid shot. As the doctors were leaving, I told them that because of our loss, my mind is always trying to evaluate whether Chet is safer inside or outside. They said that they were doing the same thing, weighing all the risks. 

Throughout the day I felt nervous not knowing whether we would get to meet our boy sooner or later. Again, I have to hand over my need for control, my need to know everything, and my need to plan. I’m just not in control. 

My cervix remained unchanged and contractions became fewer and less predictable. It seemed that the IV fluids were working to help calm my body down. My blood sugar tests came back good, so gestational diabetes is not the cause of too much amniotic fluid. We still don’t know what the cause of there being excess fluid. We are praying that there is no actual problem and that Chet will be born healthy. I was then given the second steroid shot. On Thursday morning we saw the doctors again who said that Chet looks great on the monitor and they would send me home. I will be having some extra doctor appointments for the rest of the pregnancy, starting on Monday. 

I feel good that we got so much monitoring and Chet is doing great. I am also reassured that I got the steroid shots to strengthen his lungs if he does come early. I am happy to be home and to give Chet a little more time to mature. 

Having said that, I feel more than ever that holding my baby still feels at an arms reach. Even after having had contractions and gone to the hospital, it is hard to believe this will actually happen. We left the hospital with him still in my belly. We keep getting closer and closer but not actually getting there. I know we will get there; it just feels hard to believe sometimes. I fight my unbelief to hope for the day (maybe soon?) when we bring Chet home from the hospital. I can’t wait! 

Since we don’t know exactly what caused Ginny’s death, often this pregnancy feels like I’m in the middle of a monster movie sequel. It feels like a movie that never actually shows the monster, so I am free to let my imagination go wild. Will the monster show it’s face during this pregnancy? Will it appear suddenly or is it hiding and plotting? 

During this pregnancy I’m mostly concerned about Chet’s health, but at each appointment I’m also searching for more evidence about what happened to Ginny.  I get each new doctor’s perspective. I look for clues in each ultrasound. Thanks to additional monitoring, I do have more clues. 

In a previous blog I mentioned that in Ginny’s anatomy scan, they saw an intrauterine band. Ultrasounds during this pregnancy have shown that I don’t actually have an intrauterine band, but I do have a uterine septum, a divide in my uterus. The top of my uterus has two compartments that join at the bottom. When we realized this at an ultrasound this pregnancy, I asked the doctors if that could have contributed to Ginny’s death. They said it usually causes miscarriages, not stillbirths. They said it could have been the cause but there is no way of knowing. I wondered if perhaps the placenta had grown up on the septum and didn’t get the needed blood flow. I wasn’t going to get a confirmation. 

In a later ultrasound, I asked a different doctor if it looked like Chet’s placenta could grow onto the septum. She replied, “Oh it’s already way up in there”. I asked if there could be a reduced blood supply because of it. She said they would tell that by the baby’s growth. If the baby was happy, the placenta is happy. My baby is growing so all looks good, but we will need to monitor closely, as we are already doing.

At the ultrasound last week, we got to see Chet’s cute little face again! He has continued growing, and they estimate he is 5lbs now! But they also detected a slight excess of amniotic fluid. The doctors proceeded to list several issues that could cause this. Then they said none of those issues were possible in my case based off of previous test results. They said there may be nothing wrong and I may have extra fluid for no known reason. They recommended close monitoring, as we are already doing.

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Now I have three things that push me into high risk category and deserve additional monitoring. But Chet is growing! He looks great so far and is moving a lot. That gives me so much hope, but does not ease all my fears.

As I try to stay as aware as possible during this pregnancy, I feel like I can’t trust my motherly instincts. My instincts didn’t alert me when Ginny was dying. And now that I’m that pregnant again, my fear just tells me to get the baby out ASAP. It isn’t safe! I know that’s not true right now, but my instinct tells me it is true. 

Sometimes all of this makes me feel so anxious. I get anxious for appointments. I get anxious as I think through different scenarios again and again. I get anxious as I have memories of Ginny’s death again and again. It does sometimes feel like there is a monster lurking around the corner. Do I think I have a chance at capturing it or killing it or even just escaping? 

During these moments of anxiousness, I have go back to an eternal mindset. I need to change my perspective again. Although the medical advice and monitoring are important,  I know that even if I had all the information in the world, I’m not in control. Even if all signs pointed to a good or bad outcome, it really can’t be known ahead of time. I have to remind myself that I am not the creator and sustainer of life. I have to trust God. The fact that Chet is growing well does give me hope, but I have hope beyond that. I have hope in heaven and restoration beyond this time, and God is with us. As much as I’d like to have control, reminding myself of this truth does help me exhale. It eases my anxiety a bit. I have to remind myself of this daily, sometimes hourly. 

“So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives growth.” 1 Corinthians 3:7 

“For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not, I am the one who helps you.’” Isaiah 41:13

I’ve read pregnancy devotionals full of prayers of hope, expectancy, and joy for women. These are wonderful for most pregnant women, but for loss moms those prayers can sometimes be really hard. As much as I’d like to meditate on prayers of training my children in the way they should go or the plans God has for the long life of my little one, more often I can only muster enough hope to pray for my baby to survive one more day. Personally the prayers below are more realistic for my pregnancy after loss. These are one-line prayers that I often find myself reciting throughout the day. These prayers may not be as hopeful or expectant, but they are trusting. They are not as joyful, but they are still grateful. However I pray, I know the Holy Spirit intercedes for me with “groaning too deep for words.”

1st Trimester:

Help me

Thank you for nausea 

Please no blood

Thank you for a heartbeat

Thank you for no blood

2nd Trimester:

Help me

Thank you for a heartbeat

Protect this baby, but your will be done

Thank you for pictures

Thank you for no blood

Thank you for movement

3rd Trimester:

Help me

Protect this baby, but your will be done

Thank you for no blood

Thank you for hip pain 

Thank you for heart burn

Thank you for movement

Thank you for growth

Please let this baby live, but your will be done

Bless this baby

Your will be done

“The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” Romans 8:26

Last Thursday we had the highly anticipated 28 week ultrasound. It was the first 3rd trimester growth scan. This is how we will catch and prevent what happened to Ginny from happening to Chet. I had been nervous all week; the worst moment of my life was at an ultrasound in the 3rd trimester. I wanted to see Chet’s face and know how he was doing, but I couldn’t help but be anxious.

Daniel couldn’t come in with me, but we’d be able to FaceTime. Even though he could’ve done that from home, he still drove me and sat waiting in the car. He wanted to be as near as possible. He wanted to be able to come in if anything went wrong. 

I walked into the building; it was the 2nd time in two months that I’ve walked through any doors except home. The 1st time was my previous doctor’s appointment. I was immediately given a mask and asked to sanitize my hands. The sonographer was already ready for me. It was an older man. I tried to ease my own tension by joking through my mask, “I don’t know why I put lip gloss on today. That was pointless.” He joked back that he never wears lip gloss. 

We entered the room and started the ultrasound. He immediately went to the heartbeat. I was so grateful for that. It was a strong heartbeat. He showed 4 chambers pumping blood. I exhaled, and called Daniel on FaceTime. We could hear birds chirping over my phone speaker from Daniel in the car with windows down. The sound brought a little cheeriness to the dark room. 

The sonographer measured Chet’s head and abdomen. We saw the stomach and kidneys. He measured the fluid. Then he took picture after picture of Chet’s cute little face! We got profiles and 3D pictures! The sonographer said he could do this all day. He proceeded to print a CVS-receipt-sized series of adorable pictures! This more than made up for the lack of pictures from the anatomy scan. Joy filled my heart as I stared at our son’s face. Daniel was smiling. 

I was brought to a waiting room until my doctor consultation. I sent the pictures to our families. Even though I didn’t yet know if Chet was growing on track, I got so much comfort from just seeing his face. 

The doctor called my name, and as we entered the consultation room she said, “Well you have a big boy!” She said he was growing really well and was in the 75th percentile. I was handed a paper that said “3lbs 7oz”. That’s 2oz bigger than Ginny was at birth! The doctor said we will continue monitoring, but he looks good and healthy. 

Wow! He’s big. He’s already bigger than his sister at almost 7 weeks younger. This doesn’t guarantee anything, but it does give me loads of hope. Perhaps we will welcome him into our arms! 

My next growth ultrasound will be at 32 weeks, and then the following week I will start weekly non-stress tests.  I’m excited to see him again. Until then I will be admiring his cute cheeks, nose, lips, and hands in these precious photos.

As with everything related to grief or pregnancy after loss, my emotions aren’t simple. The same goes for feeling Chet move and kick in my belly. Every time I feel him move, a swirl of emotion hits my heart. 

The most prominent of these emotions is relief. Every kick reminds me that he is alive. This pregnancy got significantly easier once I started feeling him move consistently. I no longer have to wait to hear a heartbeat to know he is still living. I get reassurance throughout the day. I tell Daniel when I feel him move so he can feel that as well. 

It also brings back memories of Ginny. I thought that would be really painful, but it isn’t. It warms my heart to have a physical reminder of the time spent with her. After losing Ginny, I had to focus to remember the feeling of her moving. Now I get reminders every day. It makes me feel like Chet and Ginny are connected. They both have dwelled in my womb. That’s something special only the two of them share. 

I am currently in this happy but helpless period of pregnancy where I can feel him move but I shouldn’t expect to feel him move often enough to track it or analyze his health because of it. 

From the beginning of this pregnancy, I’ve dreaded needing to do kick counts. That usually starts around 28 weeks when baby’s movements are felt consistently enough to predict. Kick counting is when you lay on your side and literally count the number of kicks you feel in two hours. The number should be above 10. If it isn’t, you need to call your doctor. 

For a low-risk pregnancy, kick counting isn’t always required, but the doctor may recommend it to get familiar with baby’s movements and if you ever feel a lack of movement. That’s what I did with Ginny. The Friday night before she died, it seemed she wasn’t moving very much. I decided to do kick counts. I laid down and immediately felt her kick. She kicked 6 times in 5 minutes, and I felt much better. She’s doing just fine, I thought to myself. No she wasn’t, but the kick counting didn’t predict that. 

I ask myself if I should’ve done more kick counts or if the moving I was feeling wasn’t actually her kicking. Why didn’t I know she was in trouble? Just like the measuring tape, the heart rate monitor, and even sometimes the ultrasound, there are limitations to tools like kick counting. It may detect problems, or it may not. 

My doctors haven’t talked about it yet, but I know they will ask me to do kick counts once I hit 28 weeks. I want to do them because it can give me some reassurance and it is something that I can physically do to monitor Chet. But I’m scared of being scared. I’m scared of not feeling him. I’m scared of it not being enough. I’m scared of getting obsessive about it and wanting to do kick counts around the clock. I’m scared it will trigger anxiety. I’m scared of feeling like I’m in control when I know I’m not actually in control. 

Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe I’ll feel him so much that I won’t ever worry. Maybe I’ll just get reassurance and never have the panic. I pray that’s the case. But for the next three weeks, I’m going to enjoy this time when every kick is a relief and a lack of kick isn’t concerning. 

Even when I do have to do kick counts, I don’t think the feeling of movement will lose its magic. I’ll try to embrace the special time with Chet. I’m going to keep bringing Daniel’s hand to my belly and experience the flood of emotion in bonding with our son and remembering our daughter. 

“When Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.” Luke 1:41-44

Today is a tough day. For the most part during this pandemic I’ve had a pretty good attitude. I’ve known we could handle whatever comes our way. Some days are easier than others. Sometimes there is a reason days are hard and sometimes there isn’t. I’ve tried to let myself feel all my emotions without sinking into a pit or being fearful. Most days I’m fine, but it’s a hard balance some days. 

I had a prenatal appointment scheduled for today. Earlier this week, I came to terms with the fact that Daniel can’t come with me. And then yesterday I was informed the appointment is now a phone call. I don’t know the point of a prenatal phone call  – I can’t hear Chet’s heartbeat, I can’t be measured, I can’t check my thyroid, etc. I don’t need to talk; I need to make sure things are ok. There’s no way to do that over the phone. I know they are weighing the risks and trying to protect us all. It just makes me feel more helpless in a situation where I already feel helpless.  I know people all over the world aren’t able to have the care they expected or need during this time. It’s unfair but no one’s fault.

Today is also a tough day because today is my last day working for who knows how long. The Family House closed yesterday to protect guests and volunteers from COVID-19. I know it’s the best decision, but it’s heartbreaking. Again, this virus is causing people to not get the level of care they normally would get. Transplants and treatments are being postponed. Visitors aren’t allowed at the hospital. My heart goes out to those going through serious illness right now, no matter if it is COVID-19 or not. Some people have already had their world flipped upside down and are already making life and death decisions. Adding a pandemic to the mix is making it exponentially more difficult. 

Without my job, I will need to figure out how to spend my time. I’m grateful I get to stay safely at home. I will just need to find ways to fill my time in a meaningful way – without dwelling on what we are missing out on with Ginny gone or worrying about Chet. 

Today is also a tough day because tomorrow is one year since Ginny’s due date. We already celebrated her birthday, but this is a meaningful day as well. If things were right in the world, she’d be turning one now. I do want to make it special but have no idea how. Last year we went to Charleston and walked along the beach all day. We talked about going back this year. We will need to make do with a batch of brownies and looking through the memory book I made. I miss her so much. 

I know things could be a lot worse. Everything is ok. We can make it through this. But it’s also ok to feel disappointed and sad and frustrated. I try to surround myself with love and good words when I feel this way.

The song I Shall Not Want by Audrey Assad has helped me. I sang this song as a prayer before Ginny died. Last year, I feel like God answered the prayer in the third verse. I have been delivered from the fear of serving others, the fear of death or trial (most days), and the fear of humility.  This year God must be working on answering the prayers in the first two verses. Sometimes it hurts to be delivered from something. But it’s also beautiful. When I taste His goodness, I shall not want. 

I Shall Not Want by Audrey Assad

We found out the sex as soon as we could with a blood test. We already had a name picked out, and we named him as soon as we found out he was a boy. No time to waste. This living person inside me needed a name as soon as possible. We called our families and shared his name that day. 

Why the urgency? At that time, I was only 3 months along. It is so important to me for my son to be named. 

After losing a child during pregnancy, you realize how precious the time in the womb is. This may be your only time with this child. The womb may be the only life on Earth your child experiences. For me and for many others who have experienced pregnancy loss, you want to do all you can to bond with your baby and make as many memories as possible. You want to know your baby as well as you can for as long as you can. Hopefully that means watching him grow to adulthood, but sometimes it doesn’t. 

I wanted our son to have an identity. I wanted others to start to know him and think of him as part of our family. We wanted to bond with him as a real living person. So we gave him a name. 

His name is Chester Thomas Jones. We call him Chet!

Chester is my father’s middle name, both my grandfathers’ middle names, and my great-grandfather’s first name. My great-grandfather also went by Chet. So many wonderful men in my family are named Chester; I had to keep the tradition going!

We liked how classic and solid the name Thomas is. We also appreciated that it is the name of one of Jesus’s disciples. Thomas in the Bible is known for being a doubter. When all the other disciples were telling him that Jesus was resurrected, he said he’d have to see Jesus and touch his scars to believe He was alive. 

Doubt has been a big part of my relationship with God. Every time I’ve brought a question or doubt to God, he opened my eyes and heart to something new. When something doesn’t add up in my mind or I don’t understand something, I haven’t denied my doubts. I bring them straight to God. He has always shown me his scars – so to speak. He answers my questions. It may not be right away, but eventually he does. Every time, my faith is strengthened and my mind and heart are broadened. I want our son to remember that it’s ok to ask questions. Even though “blessed are those who believe without seeing”, Jesus will show you his scars. Don’t be afraid to ask.  

Chet Jones. The name of our son. The name of Ginny’s little brother. The person wiggling in my belly. Our 2nd firstborn. We love him and are so happy to share him with you. 

²⁴ Now Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. ²⁵ So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” ²⁶ Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” ²⁷ Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” ²⁸ Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” ²⁹ Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:24-29

I’m 20 weeks pregnant. My mind goes straight to the thought that I have reached the cutoff between a miscarriage and a stillbirth. If I lose this baby, it will be considered a stillbirth. That feels like an accomplishment!

That’s certainly not something I thought about in my first pregnancy. At this point I had already felt “in the clear” for a couple of months now. I will never feel in the clear this pregnancy, but I do feel better than I did even a couple weeks ago. Now that I can feel him move, I get reassurance without going to the doctor’s to hear a heartbeat. I know he’s alive today. That makes me feel so grateful. I have today with him. 

Last week we had the targeted anatomy scan. I was anxious for what the results could be, but I also anticipated a magical moment watching him wiggle around like Ginny’s anatomy scan. I underestimated the heaviness of the dark room and quiet sonographer. I’m glad Daniel’s parents were with us. They were able to bear some of the tension in the room. I guess because I am high risk, the sonographer spent maybe one minute on his face and profile and the rest on his heart and other organs that I couldn’t make sense of. At one point she apologized for being so quiet, “Sorry some of these measurements are really hard to get. I have to focus.” That didn’t make me feel better. My mind was wondering what could be wrong. At least I could see his heart beating. I saw 4 chambers; that’s a good sign. 

The mixture of flashbacks of Ginny’s last ultrasound, the long wait for the doctor, and the disappointment of realizing we were only getting two pictures was enough to overwhelm me. The ultrasound pictures of Ginny are the only pictures we have of her alive. I look at those pictures all the time. They are what I will look at for my whole life; they are priceless to me. What if I only get these two pictures of this baby? What if that’s all I get of him?!

The doctor came in. Everything looks good! That’s a big relief. 

She goes on to say that the next ultrasound will be scheduled for over two months from now. What?! I thought I was getting more monitoring. Two months is a long time to wait when you feel like your placenta could stop working at any time! The doctor explained that there is not much they can do prior to 28 weeks. But after 28 weeks, I will get growth ultrasounds and non stress tests. I feel helpless until then. I asked for more pictures. The doctor was going to ask the sonographer if she could send more. 

Daniel and I then met with the receptionist and scheduled appointments out until July. We finally left after 3 hours. 

I felt so exhausted. I felt overwhelmed. I was glad that everything looked good, and our baby boy was measuring on track. I was disappointed that the appointment wasn’t the amazing experience we had at Ginny’s anatomy scan. I was frustrated that there isn’t more we can do to protect our son. I was upset at myself for not asking to spend more time looking at his face and hands. I felt guilty for not being happier and more grateful after getting a good report. I still felt afraid. 

As soon as we got in the car after the appointment, I broke down crying. It was all too much for one afternoon, and I missed Ginny. 

I’m realizing this is the reality of pregnancy after loss. You want so badly to be positive and cheerful and enjoy every moment, but there is an emotional barrier that can’t be ignored. Fear gets in the way, and grief is part of all your experiences. Hope is still there though. It is harder to see always, but love brings it to light – love for both children.