From a recent contact to,

I was devastated when I miscarried the first time. It was before I got pregnant with our now 14-year-old, Hannah. I tried for so many years NOT to get pregnant. Then, when I wanted to get pregnant—I wondered if I could.

I finally did it! But the excitement was short lived as I miscarried around my 9th week. I told a bunch of people. I eventually felt better—but many people still thought I was pregnant and I had to tell them I wasn’t. That was probably, the hardest part of the whole thing—actually. My friends who didn’t know I’d miscarried (until later) wanted to console me. I, on the other hand, had pretty much gotten past it. So, I ended up consoling them. Telling them it was “okay” and that I was alright.

The one thing I took from that experience, is that I told few people about being pregnant—until I had hit the 12-week mark in my future pregnancies. It saved me a lot of grief the second time I miscarried. Yep…I miscarried twice. When our now 12-year-old, Woody was not yet two, I got pregnant again and miscarried. I think it was Devine intervention. God didn’t want me to have three kids under the age of four! I surely would have needed a straight jacket. With my track record, It’s amazing I ever had kids. But here I am, with five wonderful kids—with the youngest being eight. I think, you never really get “over” a miscarriage…but you do get through it.