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October 15, 2012 / missjandme

October 15 – Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

This post is the story I don’t want to tell. The story of Biskit. The story of a baby, MY baby, that I will never hold.

Back in June, I was feeling kind of under the weather for a few days, and then all of a sudden, I just knew. We weren’t planning for a baby, but there was no other reason for how I was feeling, and two tests confirmed the happy news. We were in shock, honestly. We struggled a bit to have Miss J and weren’t expecting an “accidental” pregnancy. Miss J was distraught at the news, at first, but she soon warmed up to the idea and was as excited as I was. We decided to call the baby Biscuit (because we’d jokingly named a friend’s baby Cupcake until she’d reveal the name) but it became Biskit when Miss J spelled it phonetically.


Miss J nicknames her unborn sibling. Miss J on the left, baby on the right. Drawn on the table during a Montana’s lunch. I wish we’d kept it.

I was lucky enough to be accepted by a midwives’ practice. I felt so comforted by the idea that these two women would be with me through it all, especially since Miss J was delivered just an hour after the hospital shift change, by a doctor who literally walked in, introduced himself and delivered my child. I had my first appointment with a midwife and was scheduled for a dating ultrasound, as we couldn’t be sure how far along I was.

And that’s where it started to go wrong. Despite the fact that I believed I was 8 or 12 weeks along, the fetus was too small for the tech to reliably date. A second ultrasound indicated that there was no change, and that was a problem. A third ultrasound confirmed the “fetal demise” – but I knew before those results came, because the miscarriage I’d been hoping against hope wouldn’t happen, had. My midwives were both wonderful, breaking bad news to me so kindly and offering me alternatives in my care the whole way through. I’m so very glad that I chose them rather than a conventional OB/GYN, as I was able to go through the whole process my way. And J was by my side through it all, bewildered at times, but loving me, supporting me, and letting me make the choices I needed to make for my body, even when he didn’t understand them. The poor man had barely gotten over his surprise about the baby when it was taken away. He suffered a lot of tear-stained shoulders this past July, and never once did he let go of me when I needed him.

Miss J was away visiting her grandparents while most of this happened, so she missed my two weeks of agonizing insecurity as I waited for something to change.  But I had to tell her what had happened. I thought she understood, until she asked me several weeks later if the baby would come back.

For six weeks my baby grew inside me. For more than three weeks more I carried the body of my dead baby inside me.

And I was afraid to tell anyone about it. And every time I screwed up my courage and told a friend, I got nothing but loving support, and a whole lot of “Me, too”s. More than you’d ever imagine.

A dear friend, one who’s been here and done this, offered me so many words that lightened the load on my heart. And she told me about her annual Honour Roll of pregnancy and infant loss “angels.” So here is my Honour Roll.


  • Biskit
  • Blue, Honeydew and the three unnamed angels
  • Gordon and the unnamed angel

Mamas to Angels

  • dear friends and family – H, R, L, S, J, G
  • H – especially for being my straight-talking, no holds barred, been there done that, go-to woman to talk to!
  • me

It’s important for me to acknowledge my own loss and the fact that I still struggle with it daily. Life goes on, the pain lessens, but every day I look at my beloved girlie and wonder who Biskit would have been. I hope that someday there will be another baby and Miss J will experience the joy of being a big sister, but until then, we mourn the loss of our baby Biskit and offer love and support to all of our friends and family who have dealt with this too.

October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Sharing our losses lightens the burden and helps break the taboo. Mahatma Gandhi said “Be the change that you want to see in the world,” so this is me standing up to say “I am a mother of two” so that every other mama of an angel can do the same with pride and the knowledge that she is supported and loved.



Leave a Comment
  1. Sonia / Oct 15 2012 12:05 pm

    Big snuggles to you my friend! ❤

  2. Jess / Oct 15 2012 1:19 pm

    ❤ ❤

  3. Cherie Gagnon / Oct 15 2012 2:56 pm

    That took a lot of courage to share. Thanks for doing that. Others won’t feel so alone because you chose to be vulnerable. ((hug))

  4. Alison / Jan 14 2013 4:07 pm

    HUGE HUGS!! Whenever I told my story I was amazed with the stories others were telling me. That they had gone through it too. It’s amazing how many have gone through it, but they don’t talk about it often. The drawing your daughter drew brought me to tears. *hugs* to your whole family!

  5. mingomama / Feb 19 2013 9:58 am

    Hey sweetie. I’m just now seeing this. I love you. I’m glad I was able to be there to listen. I’ve always said that has been the one positive of my losses, the ability to hold someone else’s hand when they are going through those same terrible things.

    • missjandme / Feb 19 2013 10:02 am

      And you do it well! I always feel better knowing you’ll listen if I need you to.

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