Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support Centre

Pregnancy & Infant Loss

Support Centre

Little Souls

Going to a support group after my pregnancy loss didn’t seem to be an option for me. The groups I came across were full of women, pregnant with rainbow babies or people who had other kids and that just made me feel even more alone. I didn’t even know what the feelings were about because miscarriages were never really talked about in any detail.

My first pregnancy ended at 10 weeks on May 5, 2014. It was the day we went to view our first house together. My first ultrasound was scheduled for later that week and feelings of excitement and possibilities filled me up.

That morning I noticed some spotting. We followed through with looking at the house but I wasn’t really there. My partner was absolutely insistent that we make an offer, that the home was perfect for us, and that we act quickly. In all honesty, I didn’t want to think about the house. My only concern was that this pregnancy was ending. Once we had looked at the perspective home, I hurried to the doctor and he hurried to write an offer to purchase.

The doctor tried to encourage me as best he could and advised me to go home and rest. If the bleeding continued or increased, the only option would be to go the emergency room.

The bleeding did increase and the cramping started so I went to the emergency room at the local hospital. I sat there for many hours in a line of misery, waiting to be seen. I was asked the regular questions like how far along are you? Was this pregnancy confirmed with your family doctor? How much blood are you losing? Do you have cramping?
I was sent back to the waiting room.

I didn’t understand why I was even in this place and regretted coming at all, there was nothing anyone could do to stop this. I felt I would have been better off in the privacy and the comfort of my own home.

When I woke up that morning, I had no idea this would be the worst day of my life thus far, but here I was, finding myself surrounded by sick people, delivering a 10-week-old fetus into the overused, public toilet of a hospital emergency waiting room.

The trauma of looking down at the tiny sac, contents visible, accompanied by the plunge of hormones was my worst nightmare. I felt sad, confused, sick, helpless and very much alone as my baby daddy drove around town, only briefly popping in to the hospital to get signatures for our house deal.

A fetus at 10 weeks is about 1 inch, the size of a strawberry, a little miracle in a wee bundle. The organs are starting to form, fingers start to lose their webbing but maybe what’s even more significant than the physical being, is the mom envisioning birth, the first steps, the first day of kindergarten, and the rest of life with the irreplaceable blessing of a child.

I flushed the toilet, and that still haunts me a little to this day. I wish I would have kept that baby, if only for a minute, but of course I didn’t know what to do. No one had ever talked about this, which seems odd considering 1 in 4 pregnancies ends in miscarriage. When I got out of the bathroom I went to the desk and told them what had occurred and they asked me if I had the fetus, I said no. Since I was quite confident that there were no remnants of tissue left, I was sent home but told to still go to my original ultrasound appointment just to be certain.

Looking at the blank screen was an empty feeling, literal emptiness. As the week went by my hormones balanced, I felt a bit better. Since I hadn’t really told a lot of people about the pregnancy there weren’t many to confide in, but I had some support like my best friend and my family.

We went on to move into the house and I wanted to try again right away for a baby but I always had the feeling that my partner was relieved, he could now have time to renovate the house etc. and when I expressed my desire to try to get pregnant, he wanted to wait. I was 39.

Eventually, not long after, we did start trying for baby, we went through months of disappointment as many friends around us were giving birth and having healthy happy babies, then one day in June 2016 the test was positive. I felt so much relief but also worry, everyone around said to be optimistic, what are the chances of another miscarriage, this time I was 6 weeks, hadn’t even been to the doctor yet. It’s true, we weren’t very far along and it seems as though the normal things to say are ‘you can try again’ or ‘just be thankful you weren’t further along’.

Inside I felt like I wished I was further along so that I could feel justified to grieve. I felt like people around me expected me to just get over it. There was always someone worse off than I was, and so I stuffed my feelings down.

I turned 41 that year.

In my eyes, everyone was either expecting or had kids, and everyone we met asked if we had kids. I felt depressed and left out when we weren’t invited to kids Birthday parties, I distanced myself from a lot of the moms around me. Moms talk about their kids and rightfully so, but there was a huge part of me that didn’t want to hear their stories. (Thankfully these feelings have passed now and I love celebrating new babies).

We considered going to a fertility clinic and had the preliminary blood work and tests done, we had our appointment booked but we didn’t end up going. I am not sure why. I guess the thought of endless appointments didn’t seem appealing. Significant financial costs and the potential for so much emotional stress discouraged us from taking that path.

We still ‘tried’ on our own and I sought out more natural ways of conceiving & we finally got married. I think with the idea that maybe once we were officially married, it would happen. But our relationship deteriorated almost as soon as we said ‘I do’. Lack of communication, not feeling heard, placing blame were all settling in. The dream of being a real family had slowly faded.

I immersed myself in nature walks and went inward for self-reflection. I used every natural healing modality I could find from shamanic healing, to Reiki to reflexology, to meditation, journaling, and writing poetry and I think these have all assisted in some way to bring about inner peace. But sitting with our feelings, accepting that they are allowed and normal, is the most important realization. We don’t have to pretend everything is fine when it isn’t.

Mother’s Day is always a difficult day but my one friend Janice wishes me a Happy Mother’s Day every year, it’s the sweetest thing, she gets me. I am still a mom. A naturopath once said to me that sometimes miscarriage can be explained in a beautiful way; those 2 little souls were looking for a glimpse of the physical world experience, your gift to them, they weren’t quite ready for the extended journey of being born alive, and that is ok. They are still an energy that you can feel and sense with all of your being.

It has been over a year since I separated, I am 46. I have taken the past 14 months to heal and be on my own and to concentrate on new dreams and projects. I think as someone who wanted to be a mom for so long, I am finally releasing the desire to have a physical baby. I am relieved that I no longer have to go through the monthly disappointments. I am looking forward to what the future holds and I have become grateful, in the moment, for what I do have.

There are many ways to feel fulfilled as a human, a woman, and even a mom with no kids, there are friendships and family members and connections to make. There is healing to do and there is joy to be felt. There is hope, peace and most importantly, there is presence.

By Michelle Roussin

every story matters

The Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support Centre is a non-profit registered charity that helps families connect to support on their path to healing after pregnancy or infant loss.  Families like yours can work with us and get support with a variety of services that hold space for your unique story. No matter at what stage of your parenthood journey you find yourself, your story will be heard here.

If you are ready to share your story, or you need help with your journey, get in touch with us.

For more stories like this, visit our Stories of Loss page
or visit #sharingmystoryofloss on Instagram

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Holiday Season Day Retreat!

As the holidays approach, take a pause for yourself. 

Our day retreat offers a sacred space for connection, ritual-making, and personal reflection. Together, we’ll explore the importance of honoring our losses while navigating the season’s challenges.

This special event aims to raise vital funds to keep the Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support services at no cost.

Book with Erin Winters

In order to book with Erin, please contact us at info@pilsc.org

NOTE: Refrain from providing detailed personal information when emailing us. Feel free to describe your challenges in brief, and leave out personal details that you only wish to share with Erin.