Navigating Loss, Finding God’s Care

Sharing my intimate miscarriage story.

That Sunday felt like any other summer Sunday, right in the middle of harvest. We managed to sneak away for several hours on the river with friends. By the time we got off the water around 7 p.m., I wasn’t feeling great—but honestly, that was my “witching hour” for sickness during pregnancy, so I chalked it up to being tired and ready to head home straight to my bed! 

Looking back, August 4 marked the end of summer for us in more ways than one. In the early hours of August 5, at 11 weeks pregnant, I woke up to what I believed was my water breaking. Deep down, I knew this early on there wasn’t much that could be done. Waking all three kids in the middle of the night to rush to the hospital didn’t feel necessary. Instead, I woke Keith up, we talked through our options, and I tried to get a few more hours of sleep before calling my doctor’s office.

This is where I can so clearly see God’s hand woven into every moment of that day, even in the pain.

By mid-morning, I was able to get in with my OB. That felt like such a gift in the middle of harvest, when so much else was going on. My mom offered to come with me, but I declined. So, I drove myself, I think I wanted to go alone because deep down I knew something was off. 

My OB met me right where I was with honesty, compassion, and hope. She gently reassured me that sometimes things can look worse than they are. But after doing a quick ultrasound in her office, she noticed things didn’t look the same as they had in my first scan a few weeks earlier. She immediately sent me to the hospital for a vaginal ultrasound.

Now, I know vaginal ultrasounds aren’t most women’s favorite thing but in my higher-risk pregnancies, they’ve been invaluable for making sure everything is where it should be so I gladly accepted so I could truly get to the root of what was going on! 

That’s where I met the kindest radiologist, who quietly did her work before softly saying, “This is what we’re finding, there is no heartbeat.” As I entered back into the bathroom to get dressed back up She then called my OB for next steps, and I went straight back to her office. Again, I was met with compassion, support, and care. I chose to naturally miscarry at home so she walked me through what to watch for and had me schedule a follow-up the following week.

I left that day feeling discouraged, lonely, and frustrated that my body was going through this for the third time. And this time felt different, I think it was because it wasn’t something I could just process privately at home like the times before. 

Through the week, contractions (intense cramping) and bleeding continued, but something in me knew things weren’t resolving completely. At my follow-up, my OB confirmed that we needed to consider a D&C. That decision was heavy, especially since the earliest date was our son’s 10th birthday. I wrestled with frustration that my body wasn’t doing what I thought it “should,” and uncertainty about making the right call.

But when surgery was done on August 14, we knew without a doubt it was the right decision. There had been excess retained tissue. I was so grateful I had listened to my gut and advocated for myself even in the midst of uncertainty. 

This is the loss I thought would break me I never imagined losing one baby to early loss, let alone three. And I can tell you, no two experiences have ever been the same. Each one has stretched my capacity to heal, grieve, and process in new ways—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Here’s what I’ve learned through it all:

• Advocate for yourself. If you feel your miscarriage isn’t complete, speak up. There are different options; natural, medication, or D&C and at the end of the day you know what’s best for your body. 

• Ask about follow-up care. Sometimes bloodwork isn’t necessary, but it can give you peace of mind and set you up for better healing.

• Support matters. The care you receive during such a fragile time is deeply important. If you don’t feel supported, it’s okay to find a new provider or ask for more help.

• Cling to God. Even in the pain he has such a tender mercy to meet you in the smallest moments, to hold you and comfort you like nothing on earth can.

Every loss has been different, but God has met me in each one. Even in heartbreak, I’ve seen His provision in the timing of appointments, friendly nurses, the kindness of strangers, and the gentle reminders to trust my own voice.

To any mom walking this road: you’re not alone. Your grief matters. Your body matters. And you are worthy of the care and compassion you need.

With Love,

Ashley