Miscarriage Diaries: P.S. I Love You

 Two nights ago I found myself getting on Amazon Prime and clicking play on P.S. I Love You. I'm not sure if this was a good choice, or if it was a bad one. I honestly think I was wanting to watch someone else's grief for awhile as I continue to carry my own. 

This grief I've been walking with is such a funny, odd thing. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced. I've felt a wide range of emotions and I'm oddly surprised about how much I've felt pure and frightening panic. I'm under no impression that my anxiety disorder doesn't compound my grief, but I think losing Greer has made the fact that life does and will end, very real and close to me. 

I remember the weekend we delivered Greer. The kids stayed with my parents all weekend to give Gage and I a chance to rest and begin to process our loss. I walked down to the big boys' room to gather their laundry. I remember turning on their light and staring at their unmade beds when panic struck me. I just remember being so afraid looking at their empty beds and thinking I couldn't lose any of my other children. The same thing happened when I was watching P.S. I Love You. I had to imagine losing Gage far too soon as sudden loss feels very real to me right now. Even though I ended up needing to go lay by Gage on the couch as he was sleeping because I had to hug him and cry for fifteen minutes after the movie ended so I could feel that he was there, there was something within the movie script that touched my heart. In a scene towards the end of the movie about a year after Holly loses her husband, she's hugging a friend and says: 

"I don't feel him anymore. I feel he's gone. He's really gone.."

Saturday I woke up panicked because Greer felt far away. After I delivered Greer, Greer felt so real and so close. My pregnancy felt so close. As the weeks pass on, it feels further and further away. As I sit typing this, it feels like Greer's pregnancy was last year, not last month. Each day is different with how close Greer feels, but Saturday Greer felt very far away. I'm not sure what this is. But as I watched the main character fumble through her first year of grief, I noticed she walked through it too. There's one scene where she can so vividly see her husband walking around their apartment, and another scene where she's sleeping and can feel him hugging her. She even whispers, "You're still here." By the end of the year, she was sobbing as she told a friend she doesn't feel him anymore. 

I panic because I straddle healing and having to maybe accept the fact that Greer will start to feel far away or my pregnancy and this loss will start to feel far away, and wanting to squeeze it and not let it go. It scares me to think it may feel far away one day, some days already has, and that I will forget the moments I lived with my baby. Last week, it all honestly felt like a dream. I had to ask myself several times, "Did I really live that?" I'm sure there is a psychological term for this stage of grief, but I will walk forward with the possibility that I may one day learn what this feeling is, or I may not, and either situation is ok.

Dear, Greer-

You felt so close this morning when I woke up. I missed you so much. I missed being pregnant so much. I told Dad that it felt like my body was away from home because you were not with me. Sometimes at night when I am praying with you, I can feel you so closely. I've been having better and better days, and on my good days, it all seems so far away. Auntie Rhonda told me this will happen. She said some days you will feel closer than others, and I hope you've found Auntie Rhonda's son, Andy. We talked about how beautiful the moments will be when we get to finally hug you both. I talked to Dr. Tony. I told him I took my guilt and my shame and my regret for not embracing my pregnancy more at the beginning to confession. I told him I had such a sense of peace all day. I feel the same peace when I ask you to pray for me, to intercede for me, to ask the Father to not only grant me peace, but pray that I can accept it. That's what I'm trying to do, Greer. I know you are praying for me, but some days are harder than others to accept what's happened. Today is one of the hard days. Please pray that I don't ever forget, but that I can be brave enough to let it all go and give it fully to Christ. I'm trying, baby. I wake up each day and think "I'm curious about what healing looks like today." Please keep praying for me. I miss you.

See you when I get home, Greer-

Mom

P.S. I love you

Miscarriage Diaries: Holding My Baby

When Greer passed, Gage and I suddenly had to make all of these plans we were not prepared to make. Were we going to cremate Greer or keep Greer at the funeral home until we had a burial ceremony? Did we want to buy plots? Were we going to burry Greer at the Sterling Cemetery or Peetz Cemetery? I remember getting off the phone with my priest wondering who you even called about purchasing a plot at the cemetery. My Mom was kind enough to stop in at Tennant for me that day. I honestly was in so much pain that I can't even recall the information she gave as I sit here typing this. We chose to have Greer cremated and will have a burial once the weather warms up a bit. 

The day I walked into Tennant Funeral Home to pick up Greer is one I will never forget. I told the lady when I walked in that "I was Katie Roelle and I was here to pick up my baby." She brought out this little silver box and handed it to me. I just remember holding the box gently in my open palm, gazing down at it, and having the profound realization that I was holding my baby. 

I walked out crying as I carried my baby in that tiny little box. 

My dear Catholic Mom friend wrote me something very profound and beautiful from a book she was reading by Edward Sri about the mass. She went on to explain to me that Mary's First Communion must have been a powerful one. When she received the Eucharist, she once again was given the chance to carry her son inside of her, just as she did when she carried Him in her womb. My friend explained that even though we don't quite experience communion how the Blessed Mother must have, that Jesus is with us in the most intimate way possible on Earth in those moments after communion. She reminded me to speak to Him in those blessed minutes, tell Him all of my sorrow, all of the wishes I had, and ask Him about my Greer. I sat and read her text message and cried at its truth and beauty.

I don't know how it works, or if it's even possible, but this Sunday as I sit with Christ after communion, I hope He's holding Greer so that I too may hold my baby within me once again.

Miscarriage Diaries: Heaven

My dear cousin, Shannon, has four beautiful babies. Two of her babies are living on Earth and two of her babies are living in Heaven. When Greer passed, Shannon called me at a time when I desperately needed someone to talk to. I'll never forget the utter despair I was sitting in in that moment when my phone began to ring. Her call was truly a gift form God. I asked if she could send me some resources on pregnancy loss, and one of the things she sent was a link to her blog where she posted about her journey of walking through losing two children Earth side. Her posts helped me very much. 

I decided I would keep record of my thoughts in hopes that they will one day help another soul.

Losing Greer has made me ponder Heaven more than I ever have. I've asked several people in my life questions about Heaven and I most always get different answers. I'm not an expert on what the Catholic church teaches on Heaven, but I recently found a very beautiful rosary meditation on Heaven, and I tend to agree with that information most. The entire meditation is about how the glorious mysteries of the rosary (resurrection of Jesus, ascension of Jesus into Heaven, descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, assumption of Mary into Heaven, coronation of our Lady in Heaven) point to the fact that we will not only have bodies in Heaven, but how wonderful and intimate Heaven actually is. The Apple podcast episode is listed below:

Daily Rosary Meditations: School of Faith

Episode Title: Heaven and the Glorious Mysteries

In it they explain that the Catholic church was one of the first to believe that we have bodies in Heaven compared to many pagan religions who believed we'd just be floating orbs of light. From Jesus's perfect post resurrection body that could defy time and space, to reuniting with our loved ones based on the assumption of Mary, it gives a person a lot to ponder when examining their own preconceived notions of our forever home. It also filled my heart with much peace and comfort. I listened to it several days in a row after I delivered Greer.

One of the hardest things about losing Greer was not getting to hold him or her. I asked my doctor if I could please just have another c-section so that I could hold my baby. I wouldn't have cared if it was in the palm of my hand, I just wanted to hold Greer. I was told it was not safe to do that due to my uterus being so small. Not getting to see or hold Greer on Earth has left me with an ache I can't even describe. 

Before I listened to the Glorious Mysteries and Heaven podcast episode, I would've loved to see Greer in any form God deemed perfect for eternity, but I'd be lying if my human heart wasn't a little disappointed to think we may not have bodies and are just souls in Heaven. The yearning to touch my baby, to hold my baby, and to hug my baby was and is so strong, and to think of not getting to embrace Greer with my own arms hurt my heart just a little bit. During the podcast episode they explained how Jesus ate, walked around, and spoke with his body after the resurrection, and that we too will have arms to hug and lungs to fill with air and laugh. I know the beauty of the day I get to hug Greer and laugh with Greer will over shadow any pain I've felt on Earth, and I look forward to the gift of that day, God willing.

Right after I had my first son, I was still working full time. I remember dropping Conrad off at daycare and his provider scooped him up and went to sit in the recliner with him. Right as I was shutting the door to head to work I heard her say, "How's my boy doing today? Do you want to rock?" I shut the door and cried all the way to my car. I then cried all the way to work. I just couldn't stop thinking about how I should have been the one in the recliner with him. That's how I'm kind of feeling about Greer. I know I would never wish or choose to take Greer away from Heaven so he or she could be back with me, but it's hard to hand over Greer, to let Greer go and watch Christ, my grandmas, my grandpas, and the angels take care of Greer while I cannot. 

My therapist pointed out to me that just as I clung to Mary at the beginning of my pregnancy, I can cling to Mary in the giving of my child to the Father  as she too gave her son. Just as Mary was taken to Heaven as we recognized in one of the five Glorious Mysteries to once again embrace her son, I will live with the goal and the hope that I too one day will be taken to Heaven to embrace and hold my Greer.

Until then, Greer, pray for me.

Mom

Greer

Greer: A watchful, vigilant guardian.

This is for our sweet Greer.

On January 25, 2023 Gage, the kids, and I got the heartbreaking news that we lost our baby. Due to being so far along, I had to go in for a D&C (Dilation and Curettage) to deliver Greer on January 27, 2023. On the morning of the 27th, I was preparing to head to the hospital, but instead of bringing a baby home, I was preparing my home to mourn. Having to deliver Greer that way is something I will never forget. 

The week I lost Greer, something felt off. I remember being so worried. I tried to tell myself it was because my last pregnancy I had ultrasounds every two weeks and was carrying two babies so my tummy felt bigger. I told myself it just felt odd that there were more weeks between my appointments. On January 25^th, I woke up and prayed to the Blessed Mother over Greer that he or she be protected, healthy, and ok. A few hours later I would be laying on the ultrasound table staring at my dead baby in my womb. I knew something was wrong instantly, but I kept saying “Maybe you just can’t see the heart beating, Katie because it’s a weird angle.” I will never forget how lifeless my womb looked. The little black and white flutters of the heart beating, the little arms and legs kicking and wiggling were all gone. Greer just lay there lifeless and unmoving. I rolled to my side and sobbed. I clutched the pillow of the exam table as it felt like the only thing anchoring me to Earth. I happened to have Etta and the twins with me. The excitement to share an ultrasound with one of my children quickly evaporated as all of my hope, my excitement, my joy was sucked out of that room. I will forever be grateful to the sonographer, my nurse, my doctor, and all of the staff at my medical office for watching my kids while my Mom got off work to come over as I laid there in my heartbreak. I prayed and prayed for a miracle before our D&C. I prayed that Greer’s heart would be beating again, and that when we went in for our next ultrasound it would all have been a terrible mistake. I received a final picture of Greer, and while the first ultrasound seemed so sad, this last picture seemed peaceful. Greer looked curled up and sleeping. I hoped and prayed that when Greer passed, he or she went to sleep and woke up with Christ.

I received three wonderful bouquets to honor Greer. Looking at beauty reminded me of Greer, reminded me of Heaven, and helped my heart see light in the extreme dark. It's been sad watching the flowers die as time passes, but I have dried some and will be putting them around the house to remember Greer. I also saw where you can use the petals to make beads for a rosary or jewelry, so I might look into that as well.

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with Greer. Every positive pregnancy test I’ve ever received I instantly sent so much thanks up to God for a new life. When I read my positive pregnancy test with Greer, I instantly screamed in prayer , “Please, God don’t let anything happen to this baby.” I was so scared. I was instantly gripped with fear that my body would fail, I was instantly gripped with shame, I was instantly gripped with embarrassment that people would think Gage and I were not monitoring our reproductive health. I remember a random thought of miscarriage popped in my mind. It wasn’t something I premeditated, it wasn’t something I wished for after, or entertained, but there was this little tiny flood of relief. I remember screaming at myself asking, ‘WHY ARE YOU FEELING THIS?!” As I sobbed to Gage when he got home from work I asked, “What type of mother has a thought like that?” I explained to Gage I think in that moment it wasn’t that I consciously wished my baby away, that I wanted my baby to die, that I wanted to have a miscarriage, but the relief came from feeling in control by knowing what an ending would be. I always turned back to God, I always reminded myself in those scary moments that losing the baby would come with its own heartbreak I would carry forever, changes, and uncertainties, and ultimately, that God would take care of the baby and God would take care of me. Also, you learn in therapy, despite what the popular inspirational quotes on social media tell us about 'You are your thoughts', that not all of our thoughts hold weight or mean anything. Having OCD, it makes things extremely difficult and I find myself constantly engaging in mental compulsions reviewing any little thought I had that first week we found out. As I sat slumped in the kitchen one night after I lost Greer because I had no strength to stand and make dinner for my family, I talked to Gage about how much shame and guilt I had when those tiny moments of fear and doubt popped into my mind. Gage gently said, “Katie, it doesn’t sound to me like you wished this, that you wanted this, but like the human you were, you were scared of change, you were scared of not knowing, you were tempted by the thought of not having things change, not tempted by wanting our baby to die.” Words will never do enough to express how thankful I am for the love and support of my husband during this time. He is the reason I can make it out of bed in the morning when I just sob and feel I do not have the strength. He is there reminding me to get up and just do the one next right thing.

The day I found out I was pregnant with Greer and walking through these moments did provide me with some insight into abortion. It dawned on me, especially for women who have no support system, women who are young and facing an unplanned pregnancy, that pregnancy feels just like that: pregnancy. Pregnancy doesn’t feel like a baby, pregnancy doesn’t feel like a soul. If you are reading this and you are afraid, I am sorry. I’m sorry you feel afraid, but this is me reminding you that there is a baby there, there is life there, there is a million moments that will stretch on into the end of time there. I never thought I’d have to learn to be a mother to a child in Heaven. I realized one night that my motherhood doesn’t have to end just because my baby is not on Earth, that I can still be a mother, it will just look differently. I will constantly be learning how to adopt to this new role in my motherhood, but one way I’ve started is sitting with Greer at night and praying for mothers who are experiencing an unplanned pregnancy and asking Greer to intercede on their behalf and on behalf of their babies. Greer's name means vigilant and watchful guardian, and so I approach Greer as a vigilant and watchful saint. Seeing Greer for the first time on ultrasound helped my heart so much, it helped me transition out of staring at this daunting pregnancy and bond with the soul residing within me. Our sonographer, who takes the best pictures of my babies in utero, got the sweetest photo of Greer covering his or her eyes with his or her little nubby hands. I framed the picture and have it on a shelf in our room. It makes me happy to see Greer curled up and content with me.

When I look back at how much time I wasted on fear, how much time I wasted on doubt, how much time I wasted on what others would think, my regret swallows me whole most days. If God would have said, “Katie, you have twelve weeks and three days with this sweet baby,” I would’ve walked through my pregnancy much differently. I try to hold space for my humanity, I try to remind myself that we always turned back to God, we always turned back to our faith, and by the end we were so very excited, but if I had only known how little time I would’ve had, I wouldn’t have wasted any of it. I’m not sure how I will ever forgive myself, but I hope to find healthy ways to heal with Christ at my side. I obsess due to the stress and worry I first felt that first week or two after we found out, that Greer did not have a good home in me. I remember sobbing the day after I lost Greer wondering if Greer felt loved. I told Gage one night I didn’t feel worthy of telling Greer I loved him or her because of how much I struggled at the beginning. Gage told me that’s what the darkness wants, never be afraid to tell Greer you love him or her. Keep telling Greer how much you love him or her. I also try to remember all of the good moments, all of the happy moments, all of the moments I bit into something sweet or chocolatey and instantly knew Greer loved it because of how good it tasted. The darkness and the regret is overwhelming, but I know there were moments of light that Greer and I lived even if it's hard to see right now.

The week I lost Greer, before I found out that he or she had passed, I pictured speaking at her wedding. I pictured Greer as a girl as I just knew God was going to give Etta a sister. I pictured looking at my daughter and telling her how scared I was when I found out I was pregnant with her, but how thankful I am that God made that choice for me as I don’t know what the world would’ve done without her beauty, her kindness, and her grace. When I stared at the ultrasound screen, Gage and I began the terrible journey of mourning moments we would never get to live with our child.  I was told to pick out a gender neutral name as knowing the gender was unlikely. I was looking through a list the night before I delivered Greer and nothing was right. I shut my phone off in frustration. I woke up so sad the next morning that in desperation I got back onto the list. The first or second name that popped up was Greer. Once I read the meaning, I knew it was a sign. It filled me with peace and also filled me with Greer's purpose.

 I found a print on Etsy, it was a prayer written by Mother Angelica about miscarriage. The prayer reads:

“Why my child-Do you ask ‘why’?-Well, I will tell you why. You see the child lives. Instead of wind, he hears the angels singing before my throne. Instead of beauty that passes, he sees ever lasting beauty-he sees my face. He was created and lived a short time so that the image of his parents imprinted on his face may stand before me as their personal intercessor. He knows secrets of heaven unknown to men on earth. He laughs with a special joy that only the innocent possess. My ways are not the ways of man. I create for my kingdom and each creature fills a place in that kingdom that could not be filled by another. He was created for my joy and his parents’ merits. He has never seen pain for sin. He has never felt hunger or pain. I breathed a soul into a seed, made it grow and called it forth.” – Mother Angelica

When I become disappointed and hopeless about the moments I will never get to live with Greer, I try to remind myself of these words. That Greer is not dead, Greer lives in another place. Greer is happy, Greer is healthy, Greer is whole. Greer is a special soul and Greer has a purpose. Greer was not in vain, Greer has a holy role to play, and he or she is truly home. What more could a parent ask for their child? I told Gage I have a hard time believing that parents who have lost a child, could ever question there being an afterlife. I feel so strongly there is a thread connecting Greer and I. When I tug on that thread it doesn’t feel empty on the other end, Greer is very much there, some place where I cannot yet be.

After I lost Greer, I wondered if it would’ve been better to have Greer as a stillborn so I could’ve held him or her. I had this terribly painful phantom baby feeling after I delivered. I so vividly felt Greer on my chest, wanting to hold Greer, but only clutching air every time I tried. I begged Jesus every night as I cried myself to sleep to be able to see Greer. About five nights after I delivered Greer, my request was granted. I was laying on my side and there was Greer sitting in front of me. Greer was probably 6-8 months old. Greer had a crisp white sheet tucked around him or her and I remember so much golden light behind him or her. Greer was blonde like my youngest boys and had the chubbiest arms of any of my babies. Greer was waving his or her arms at me and we were talking. I wasn’t sad, I felt so much peace, and I got to hug Greer. When I leaned into kiss Greer on the head I woke up. When my pain feels too much to carry, when my grief makes my eyes swell, my head ache, and my muscles sore I cling to the singular truth, the only truth that matters: That no matter what happened on Earth, Greer is home, Greer is healthy, Greer is at peace and God let me see it with my own eyes. During my pregnancy a psalm from my bible study stuck with me and I wrote it down, “The blessing of the Lord makes rich, and he adds no sorrow with it.” It takes on different meaning now that I know how my pregnancy was to end, but I try to see the peace through pain and the healing that is Heaven through the incredible hurt on Earth.

Mornings are the hardest for me. I feel like I hit the reset button on my grief each day when I wake up and remember. I want to be pregnant with Greer again, I want Greer to be safe and healthy and growing again, I want to have a summer baby, I want to see and hold Greer, I didn't want to pack up all of my maternity clothes. I hugged them and cried as I put them away. I miss my child so much that it's a pain I know will not be assuaged until I am in Heaven and that is a heavy feeling. Since Greer has passed, I told Gage I feel like we should be able to hit the pause button on life. It seems odd that a new day starts each morning without our baby. It's the feeling of squeezing sand that just keeps slipping away. The Weepies just kept playing over and over in my mind:

"....I thought of you and where you'd gone, and the world spins madly on."

When I look at the walk I must take ahead, all I feel is exhaustion and overwhelm. It takes a lot to be healthy mentally and spiritually, and it takes a lot to be healthy in our healing. My grief is exhausting and looking down the road at what it’s going to take to heal this chapter in my life in a healthy way is daunting. I have never felt grief like this, I have never felt sorrow like this, I have never felt a yearning like this. This gigantic thing that is bigger than me, this gigantic thing that feels like it will always be this giant hole I walk around with. Gage's Aunt wrote us and shared a beautiful sentiment. She said that mothers who lose children in the womb experience something that most of us only know at the end of our lives, and that is a soul leaving our body. I feel that in every fiber of my being. It is so large when I stare at it, I'm honestly not quite sure what to do with it. Each day is getting better, but even on my better days I feel bad about feeling better. I’m trying not to place myself in black and whites right now. I don’t know if I will have any more children, but to say this was how this particular season of our baby years and parenthood is to end, is too painful for me. I am going to see my therapist, I am going to read some books, I am going to heal my body, and then we will see how we feel when our new season begins. We’ve placed prayers and little olive wood carvings around our home to fill it with Greer. We will plant a tree in our yard this summer, and lovingly sit by it when our heartaches become too heavy. I know our remembering Greer will look different year to year, but Greer will not be whispered about in our home. Greer will be remembered, Greer will be celebrated, Greer will be talked about, and we will always go with Greer in prayer.

 Greer,

I love you. Please forgive me for being human. Know that my longing for you to be healthy and happy inside of my tummy is the strongest yearning I’ve ever felt, but I will not wish you out of heaven. Please keep visiting us, please keep praying for us as the beautiful saint you now are, and know we will carry with you always even if it’s not in the ways we imagined. We love you more than words can express, and will miss your earthly presence every day.

I’ll be home before you know it.

Love,

Mom 

I've been going through the 'Book of Woes' in my Bible study. I had to take a break because I honestly couldn't handle hearing about any more 'woes'. On Monday, God spoke to me and sent me these words. Although my baby did not blossom, I will take refuge in Christ. Christ loves me, Christ walks with me, and Christ will help me heal and my feet light by carrying this cross when I cannot.