CHKD Health & Surgery Center (Newport News) issued the following announcement on Oct. 15
In January of 2013, I found that I was pregnant with my first baby. My husband and I were overjoyed. Our first appointment was filled with excitement as we looked at that tiny heartbeat pulsing on the screen. Our obstetrician noted that the heartrate was a little slow and needed more monitoring.
Week eight through 12 felt like a yo-yo of emotions. After our initial appointment, the baby’s heartbeat improved but was still not quite right. My body also showed other signs of stress, but we were hopeful. We shared our excitement with our family and close friends.
When it became apparent that this may not end as we hoped for, I felt an even greater connection with my husband, the baby, and our source of strength. As we prayed over the baby, I needed to name the life that beat within. We did not know the sex; however, I had a feeling that it was a girl. We named her Moriah, which means my teaching place. I became keenly aware that each day with her was a precious gift that may be fleeting. Although there were intense emotions of hope and grief, we felt confident in God’s will for the situation regardless of the outcome. Our support system shared our emotions; however, some could not quite understand how we held Moriah’s life with an open hand. There were questions and suggestions of how we should move forward, but we felt a sense of peace in the storm.
Our 12-week appointment was the week of our sixth anniversary. It was during this time that we learned that Moriah’s heart was no longer beating and the life we prayed for was gone. I will never forget the flood of emotions and questions that swirled in my mind, heart, and prayers. At that moment, it was the most difficult experience in our marriage. It was a sacred space that belonged to my husband and me. We walked this difficult journey together, from appointments, to prayer, to the various emotions of sadness, disappointment, love, and hope. We were united as we walked this difficult journey and learned to depend on our source of strength.
We mourned our loss as a family, and parts of the grief and anxiety continued as I carried my other children. I had to remember that each pregnancy was different than the one before and continue to hold onto hope. As I moved further away from the miscarriage, the intensity of the negative emotions subsided, but the feeling of love and even gratitude strengthened. There is a connection that we have with Moriah that will never go away as long as we live. In my own healing process, I wrote her letters, cried when I needed to, asked questions in my prayers, and stayed connected to my source of hope and peace. As the years went by, I found myself wanting to see all my children together, so I created a display of their ultrasound pictures in a private area. This naturally produced conversation with our children that has been another way to keep Moriah’s memory alive.
If you have experienced a miscarriage or the loss of your infant, you are not alone. Our stories, grief, and healing journey are as unique as our fingerprints. Each experienced emotion is important to acknowledge and work through. We must always remember that we can hold space for opposing emotions at the same time. There is light in the darkness, and there can be peace in the chaos.
Original source can be found here.
Source: CHKD Health & Surgery Center (Newport News)
Alerts Sign-up