“Me Too”

burning tea lights

Jim and I got married in our 30’s, a little later than most of our friends. By the time of our wedding I had been to all the wedding showers and baby showers I cared to go to as a guest. It was my turn. I was ready to be a mom.

I had joked with Jim that we were definitely going to have a baby before his 40th birthday – since I didn’t want to have a baby with an “old man!” (I find myself eating those words as 40 isn’t sounding so old these days…)

Just like with everything else I had wanted in life, I had a plan complete with timelines and checklists. I had been good at achieving those in other areas, at creating to-do lists and life-goals and crossing them off. But for the first time something wasn’t within my control.

We spent several years seeing doctors and specialists. I went through tests and procedures that were painful for the body, psyche and bank account. Our newly born marriage was stretched and tried, and we struggled to find out who we were as a couple even as we longed to be parents together.

Then, in what seemed to be the ultimate success in goal achievement, I met my deadline. I walked into Jim’s home office on the morning of his 39th birthday, still in my pajamas and held out a present for him. It wasn’t wrapped. It wasn’t even sanitary. It was a pregnancy test, and it was positive!(There are very few occasions in life when you can give someone a gift you’ve peed on and receive the kind of joyful response I got that day.)

We were giddy with excitement and dreams. I remember a fog of walking around with a secret no one else knew: we were parents at last! The joy and celebration were instantaneous, overwhelming, and short-lived.

I woke up one morning bleeding. If I had been shot I don’t think it could’ve been more painful. Still, years later, every month when I see blood it often brings back a horrible and sick feeling. We rushed back to the doctor’s office where they were neither optimistic nor pessimistic. I’ve learned through the years to hate the poker face that doctors and nurses wear. I have searched their faces for any kind of hope or sympathy or grief – but they are masters at the non-answer. I was given a blood test and told to return in 48 hours.

For several days this cycle went on. The blood tests said the baby was growing, but the bleeding did not stop. Finally, an ultrasound confirmed that the baby was indeed alive and growing – in my left fallopian tube, an ectopic pregnancy. Suddenly the poker faces were gone and the doctor and nurses were urgent, since a rupture of that tube could be life threatening for me and could happen at any time. I was so confused at that point: we had exactly what we asked for, and we had to end it. We had to make a conscious decision to choose my life over our baby’s life. I couldn’t even bring myself to that point, so against doctor’s orders we went home and promised to return the next day.

The next day was November 5. That day will stay in my mind forever as the day we lost our first child.

Over the next few years we went on a rollercoaster of hope and devastation. We celebrated and lost other babies. I hold each of them in the calendar of my heart. I know the dates they were conceived, the dates they would have been born, and the dates I knew they were gone. These other losses had no diagnosis or explanation, just an empty and black ultrasound screen where no heartbeat danced across. They are the invisible, unrealized part of our family, even as our family has healed and grown in numbers and in joy.

October 15 is pregnancy and infant loss awareness day, and every year I watch as other people tell their stories, light candles and post pictures. I am usually silent. I “like” or comment on other people’s posts and send words of prayer and condolence. But part of my grieving as a very private person was to choose to keep my news very carefully tucked in my heart while, as a pastor, I took care of other people in their grief.

Sometimes a woman tells me her story of the loss of a baby, and after I listen and cry with her and comfort and pray, sometimes when it seems appropriate to share and the Spirit prompts, I lean in and whisper very gently: “Me too.” Those are Holy Spirit words: “me too.” They are words that are not meant to compete with or diminish grief, but they draw a wider circle that allows us to sit in that grief together. And as the circle gets bigger, some new piece of healing happens. “Me too” means that we’re not alone. It means that while each experience of grief is unique and different, the embrace of community is wider than the isolation we have felt. “Me too” are the words of incarnation. God’s suffering and grief and loss stands in this circle with us even as he is the embrace around us.

So, if you need to hear it, I break my silence for you today. I say “me too” in honor of the ones we’ve carried and loved and lost. I stand in this circle with you and remember, and gather, and recite the holy calendar of what might have been, even as I rejoice in what is, and what is to come.

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25 Comments

Jessica LaGrone

Shelby, Thanks for sharing your “me too.” I’m standing in this circle with you today.

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Heather Martin

Two days in a row…of tears after reading your posts. I can’t say Me Too…but I can say I love you, friend.

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Brenda Marsden

I am your cousin. I live in Texas. Ora Lee is my Mom and Jane’s aunt. I just read your blog and it is beautiful. you are a gifted writer and i imagine a gifted pastor. God chose well. i will continue to follow your blog. congratulations on your very beutiful work.

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Jessica LaGrone

Thank you Kathy – a loss of a child is a loss of a grandchild as well. I’m sure it’s a very difficult struggle.

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Sarah Heller

Thank You Jessica! Me too! Also a huge thank you for help starting Sisters of Hannah at WUMC!

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Nancy Potts

Jessica, I don’t know you but I know Jim. He went to Ecuador with Clyde and me years ago. I am thinking of you this day, I have lost 2 grandbabies. Our youngest daughter, who was on the Ecuador trip, had Hunter at 22 weeks, stillborn. Then a year later had Tanner at 24 weeks and he lived 94 days in the NICU. My heart aches every time I see a tiny baby and seeing her post on facebook today with pictures of Tanner, well, my heart just cries. I am sorry for your loss and I know that your babies are awaiting you and Jim in heaven just as Hunter and Tanner are waiting for Katie.

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Jessica LaGrone

Nancy,
I’m so sorry for your losses. May God bless and heal Katie’s heart. I do think it is comforting to know we will meet them someday in heaven.
Blessings,
Jessica

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jim

My wife an I lost our first at 3 months of pregnancy! We where very devoted to this unborn child as my wife stage 5 cancer 1% chance of survival and words of the doxtors..you will never carry a child! We named her faith. Still brings me to years yo think of that time! However God is good! My wife has been cancer free and over 50 operations later for more than 6 yrs now! We have two beautiful girls ! An 8yr old and a 3yr old ! I’m 45 she’s 39 it’s all on God’s time not ours ! Prayers to all who are suffering these horrible losses but keep faith know God is good and our little faith is waiting in heaven to meet us!

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Jessica LaGrone

Jim,
Wow, what a story. I love that you have your 8 and 3 year old and a cancer free diagnosis and I know God is behind it all. It is comforting to think we’ll meet and be welcomed by Faith someday in heaven.
Blessings,
Jessica

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Sue neff

What a blessing you must be to many. I have not gone through this kind of loss myself, but have been through it with my daughter and friends. God gives us strength and comfort for such as this.
May he continue to bless you.

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Jessica LaGrone

Sue,
Thank you for sharing – Grandparents are part of the “Me too” too.
Blessings,
Jessica

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Darcy Oswald

Beautifully written my friend. My heart goes out to you and Jim for your losses, but celebrates with you every time you post pictures of your precious little ones.

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Jessica LaGrone

Thanks Darcy. I appreciate your words – and your lifelong friendship.
~Jessica

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Andy

I’m a United Methodist pastor whose experience is somewhat different. On October 26, 2008 our 32-year-old son, Drew, died. That date is always circled on my heart calendar. As seven years draws near I cannot adequately express in words how good God has been to us. While I don’t know the devastation of a pregnancy loss or miscarriage, I hope it’s OK if I say to you, “me too.”

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Evelyn Penn

Oh, Jessica. I am so sorry for the little ones who won’t know you as a mother. And I am sorry for your losses. So glad you have been blessed with children now. I can’t say, “me, too”, as God blessed me with two pregnancies and two beautiful children who are now 42 and 39. And, I can’t forget the grandchildren! Seven with number eight on the way!

We met on the Abingdon Women’s cruise last February. I so enjoyed your company and your encouragement in my calling to be a pastor. You invited me to Asbury to visit before I decided on a Seminary. I knew that going to Asbury was not going to be possible, as my life is in Fredericksburg, Virginia. With a home, a dog, and grandchildren in the area, I really needed to stay in this area. So, I am a seminarian at Wesley Theology Seminary in Washington, DC, a full-time student and working part-time. My goal is to complete my MDiv in three years, but boy is it tough! At 62 it is a whole new world, but I love everything I am learning. I would like to stay in touch with you as I continue on this journey for which God has called me. When I think of you and our conversations on the cruise, I always see your smiling face. Thank you for that memory!
Blessings,
Evelyn Penn
540-220-4454

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Jessica LaGrone

Evelyn,
Thanks for your kind words. I’m excited that you’re pursuing your call and working your way through seminary. I hope all is going well and you’re learning lots at Wesley!
Blessings,
Jessica

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