They meant these stories to comfort me. But they weren’t and aren’t comforting.

[pinit]

Submitting to God’s will by letting Miranda go did not come with a promise for a child after her.

All of our children are gifts, not promises.

I had hope for another blessing, but over the months there hasn’t been one.

We are now nine+ months from Miranda’s birth, right at the time frame of the spacing between my other children. There was no child meant to be here in Miranda’s stead. There is no miracle baby that could not have existed if Miranda had lived.

The baby-loss community refers to babies after loss as Rainbow Babies, much like the rainbow appears after a storm is clearing. It is not to say the storm never was, it is just a reminder that the storm is passing.

But sometimes as a storm passes we don’t see a rainbow… it’s followed by the rest of the storm front.

The last week of May I had a hunch and took a home pregnancy test. To my surprise it was positive. Vince and I were nervous and happy all at the same time. We began to talk of how we would share that mix of emotions with everyone.

One week later, before we had the chance to share with anyone, that tiny life slipped away and I miscarried the pregnancy.

It was the same day we were supposed to share our testimony of hope to a nearby church. The event was cancelled due to inclement weather. I appreciated that for so many reasons, it was a gift of grace in that gray moment.

We’ve now faced a loss that no one even knew existed.

How do you bring that up in conversation, even with your closest friends or family? Some of you are reading this right now wondering why I haven’t said anything to you. All I can offer is that all of it is awkward at best and I just couldn’t find the words to say. It has taken a month to wrap my head around it and put it into a coherent thought. It is part of the reason I was not able to write for the past month, a huge piece of me was hiding. I needed to put it out here just so that I don’t feel like everything else I write is a superficial cover.

Mourning this loss is quite different than losing Miranda. We grieve all that is unknown. Would the baby have been a boy or a girl? What would we have chosen as a name? Would he have had a lot of hair, or a bald little bean? So much unknown.

(Our other children do not know about this loss. They are not ready and would not understand. They pray for and ask often about a new sibling. I can not even begin to comprehend how to explain this when their emotions are still so raw about their baby sister. There will be an appropriate time to tell them as they get a little older, when more wounds have healed.)

At the same time, because we are walking through life after tragic loss we know that healing is possible and that it will continue to be a long process. I’m still not quite ready to give up the hope for another baby, but I have peace that if God does not bless us with one that He will satisfy my heart of that desire.

I know He has us in His hands and that my Miranda and her little brother or sister are waiting to see us some day.

This post is being shared in the Still Standing monthly link-up The Journey

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When it comes to losing Miranda this is exactly how I feel sometimes. There is a storm of emotions that I attempt to keep in check each day.

• I have faced the death of my newborn daughter. But, I have been blessed with five living children.
• I have witnessed just how wrong a homebirth can go. But, I have also had three homebirths without incident and sweet memories from them.
• I have never had to ‘try’ to get pregnant. But, now I hope for the blessing of carrying a baby and it has not happened.
• I have five children that need me everyday so that I can not lose myself in grief. But, I have five children who have lost their sister and speak of her often even at times when I am not ready to face it.
• We are intentional about doing things as a whole family. But, being around babies that are the age that Miranda would be is hard for me, and hearing babies coo and cry is a challenge.
• I get frustrated about some of the daily tasks of parenting my children. But, I thank God He has placed them in my care.
• I can see the unexpected blessings that have come my way because of Miranda’s death. But, it is not always easy to put on a happy face in church.
• I want to be able to resume some of the activities I used to enjoy. But, I can’t stand to be around people that will not acknowledge my daughter’s life and death. 
• I want to be who I was nine months and one day ago. But, I could not forsake the person I have grown to be through these last nine months.

I often feel like I am censoring myself and my feelings. No one is forcing me to but myself. I just can’t deny the feeling. I share things in the different loss groups I participate in but, I often feel I need to qualify everything I say.

I know that there is no way to compare loss. It is such a personal thing.

But, that doesn’t mean that we don’t.

How can I talk about how much I miss Miranda amongst a group of women who have never carried a pregnancy to term when I have five beautiful children?

How can I express disappointment about not being pregnant when I know many women who have never conceived when I did six times without ever ‘trying’?

How do I speak about my belief that Miranda is not an angel when many other loss-moms refer to their lost children as their angels? The last thing I want to do is offend another grieving mom.

How do I blog about homeschooling and family activities and other ‘happy’ things when there is such a huge part of me missing?

It is sometimes difficult to make it clear in my writing; the loss of Miranda permeates EVERYTHING, yet life still continues on. We still have to school our living children, we still laugh, we still do fun things, and we still celebrate occasions… we also visit a grave site.

I don’t get to compartmentalize my life in the day to day like I can on this blog. I live it all at the same time and then neaten it up into understandable portions for you.

Sometimes I’m afraid someone will read what I write and think we’re all ‘okay’ and our loss is just a part of our past. On the other hand I worry that when I write about an specific aspect of loss or grief that someone will read and think I’m just a mess in severe depression. Neither is the true picture.

Loss and grief and recovery are messy business.

On the days I think I’ve got this figured out, it will crumble in the moment that one of my children asks a question that begins with, “If Miranda was alive….?“

The same children that some people think should provide the distraction from what I’m missing, are the very same children that make Miranda’s loss so hard for us. Vince and I don’t get to just trudge through grief together, we have to escort our children through it as well.

So what am I saying?

Every person experiencing loss is experiencing their worst possible outcome. They can’t be compared. They are all unfair. My worst is no easier than your worst. Your worst is not easier than my worst. It all sucks. (Yes, I did say that. I wonder if MJ will see this…)

It seems I can’t even find my niche in the world of loss…

This post is being shared in the Bereaved Mommies link-up at Tesha’s Treasures Please choose to link-up your related post and visit the other participants in the hop.

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The NY Times ran an article in May in glowing admiration of Ina May Gaskin as the pioneer of the home-birth movement and a founder of MANA, the organization that certifies professional midwives. The article also tells a bit of biographical information of Gaskin, including her involvement in a 4-way marriage and use of psychedelic drugs. This article of course received lots of hail and praise from the homebirth and natural childbirth community and any reference made to the risk and safety of these decisions continued to be mocked and minimized as women were berated for not trusting their bodies, not educating themselves enough and being unwilling to let women have choices.

Where was the voice for those of us on the other side of this story?

Myself and a number of other moms who have encountered adverse outcomes after homebirth were interviewed by Michelle Goldberg of Newsweek. She asked many questions to gain insight into what leads to the desire for a homebirth, what the culture of the community is, and what happens when you experience loss after a homebirth.

Her article went live on The Daily Beast on Monday, Home Birth: Increasingly Popular, But Dangerous.

I’ll admit I was disappointed when I first read it. She did a great job presenting the dangers that are often hidden from public view, the side that only those who have had to deal with the loss have endured. My fear is that those reading this article could see the horrific details of Mindy’s loss of Henry or Tweeny’s loss of Wren and come away thinking that the occurrence of loss is isolated and rare and only associated with what would be deemed as high-risk conditions by most.

It isn’t rare and it isn’t isolated.

There are moms that go through their pregnancy with no known risk factors, who choose to birth their baby at home and face the death of their child. 

Yes, I do understand that babies die in hospitals too. Please do not comment on this post claiming that argument, it is not at all helpful. Full term babies do not just die in hospitals. On the occasion that they do there are investigations launched and failing providers are held accountable.

The homebirth community does not seek accountability of midwives. All responsibility for an adverse outcome is placed in the lap of the parents. After all, it was their responsibility to be well-informed, to educate themselves, and they were to accept the risks associated with their decisions.

But what about when all the information is not given? What about when a midwife does not disclose her losses, or her legal status? What about when a midwife encourages a mom to pursue a homebirth even when she has a number of risks that warrant the attention of a doctor or the services of a hospital? What about when your midwife, a CNM with 26 years of experience and  the education to back it hires ‘birth assistants’ with very little or no formal medical education and allows them to see her patients without disclosing their qualifications (or lack there-of)? What about when she disregards her own education and refuses to practice in accordance with acceptable standards of care?

Those were some of the questions I was dealing with on Monday as I read the comments of Goldberg’s article.

Things were further compounded as I watched the news on Tuesday night. I sat there with my mouth open as I realized that this family must be the same as Complaint #2 in the summary suspension of Evelyn Muhlhan, my former midwife. The following morning it was the front page article in The Baltimore Sun. With more details of the family’s story which solidified the connection for me (and infuriated me because of the double standard it presented; parents bear the responsibility for the homebirth outcome… unless there is a hospital involved to bear it?)

But how, with all the incriminating information regarding the way Muhlhan mishandled the labor, could the jury find the hospital responsible for Enzo’s injury?

Here is the case information Case Number:24C11001081. If you look at docket 74 you can see that any evidence or testimony that would explain Muhlhan’s actions during labor that most certainly could have caused hypoxia were precluded from the trial. The jury would not receive this information.

I am stunned.

The assertion that Johns Hopkins Hospital was punishing them for attempting a homebirth and made them wait with no justification is ridiculous to me. JHH is the final hospital that received Miranda and placed her on ECMO. Never once were we lead to believe that providers there were looking down on us or punishing us for our choice of birthing at home. They never interrogated us for our choices. They did everything they could to try to help her.

They did their job and tried to save my child.

There was no ‘transfer of care’, Muhlhan never communicated with any of the medical teams that cared for Miranda. She never showed up at any of the facilities Miranda was transferred to. Vince and I were responsible for communicating to the doctors and nurses my prenatal history and the events of labor and birth while we sat with nothing but questions in our minds about how those preceding events happened and where it all went wrong.

I can only hope that the amount of attention that homebirth is now receiving will grab the attention of Maryland lawmakers, especially as they are set to begin the work group whose goal is to bring CPM licensing to Maryland. Maybe now they will see that while planned homebirth can occur without incident, when it does go wrong it is horrendous and expensive and it won’t be the midwives bearing the responsibility, it will be the parents, the hospitals and the state.

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If you know me very well you know that this silence isn’t because there isn’t anything to share.

Actually it is most likely to mean that there is so much to say that I have been in prayer over processing things before sharing with you all. I could chose to just remain silent, but the prompting on my spirit to share these things with you must be answered.

I would love to share that things have gotten quiet and that the storm is finally starting to pass.

But it isn’t.

I have said over and over that the month of October, while our Miranda fought for her life, was the easy part. These months since have been increasingly difficult.

Today Miranda would be nine months old.

Instead of writing updates of the milestones she’s hitting I am contemplating the design of a grave stone.

I still struggle to wrap my mind around that.

Yes, time has gone on and our lives have continued. There is still laughter and smiles in our home and there are also tears and frustration. There is someone missing and that will never go away. Time may dull the newness of the pain but it doesn’t erase it.

Time doesn’t heal, God does.

His healing happens each time I bring my pain to Him. It is a process and a daily challenge.

I can not fill you in on everything that is going on in one post, so there is quite a bit more coming. This post was just to let you know that those updates are coming because it is important for me to share this with you. We are so grateful for the love and support we’ve received in these months and know that you all have great concern for how our family is healing.

Thank you for keeping our family in your sincere prayers.

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