This personal story of mine appeared in Mental Wellness: Real Stories From Survivors many years ago. I’m sharing it on my blog with the hopes it will reach more people and possibly help them deal with the difficulties and heartbreaks caused by miscarriages and/or stillbirths; of losing a child or multiple children. Or even just dealing with fertility issues.
I pray it will give them hope.
Most people don’t know how to reach out and help those who have suffered such losses. And, in a way, that’s a good thing. It means they didn’t have to go through that kind of agony.
But it doesn’t help those who have. Isolation and depression are very real for those who feel no one understands them…and that’s why it’s important to share our stories, to let people know they aren’t alone and someone does understand, even if they don’t want to talk about their own loss.
I hope me sharing my story makes you feel less alone.
LIVING WITH IT
By Rebecca Besser
At the age of twenty, I was diagnosed with PCOS—the leading cause of infertility in childbearing-aged women. Understanding the syndrome is complicated, especially because it mostly affects hormones. Everyone knows women can’t think straight when their hormones are out of control, and understanding that has been very helpful to me. Because honestly, we can’t control how we act sometimes. I know men think PMS is just an excuse for us to behave badly, but it’s not the case. Try living with a woman with PCOS; it’s PMS on steroids.
The first treatments I received made me behave in ways that were not me. I went from being a smiling, friendly person to a tense, moody individual. At times, it was hard for my husband to know how to deal with me, but he did the best he could, even on the days he couldn’t even get me to smile.
More than anything, I wanted to have a baby, and after four years of trying to get pregnant, I’d finally given up. We tried a round of birth control pills for a few months—to get my menstrual cycle regulated—and then I went off of them. Shortly after, I found out I was pregnant!
I was shocked and delighted, but then came the complicated part. With PCOS, I had a fifty percent chance of a miscarriage in my first trimester. The medication my doctor had me on brought the percentage down to around nine percent. Also add in the risk of high blood pressure and gestational diabetes on top of everything else that could normally go wrong with a pregnancy and it was tough. But, thankfully, my first pregnancy flew by with barely a hitch and I had a beautiful, and completely healthy, little boy we named Cordell.
With PCOS, after you get pregnant once it’s supposed to be easier for you to get pregnant again. So, not wanting to have another child right away, I went on birth control pills again. My hormones didn’t like them at all and I started having severe migraines, so off the pill I went. We used other forms of birth control, until, about two years later when we decided to try again. This time I became pregnant almost right away, but things didn’t go well. Even being on light duty at work, I spotted a lot. After ultrasounds and exams, the doctor could do nothing about it, and said everything would either fix itself or I would have a miscarriage.
I lost the baby on February 13, 2006.
I spent half of Valentine’s Day in the hospital and took two weeks off work. While I was off, the only way I kept sane was focusing on the wonderful child I already had. This was also the time when my husband and I started to seriously talk about me staying home and being a full-time mother. For me to be a house wife and stay-at-home-mom was something we’d always planned on, but after losing our baby I was more eager than ever not to miss any time with Cordell. I put in my notice and five months later I was officially a stay-at-home mommy.
Not long after I became pregnant again and, since I was now staying home, I didn’t have the stresses of work to add to the complications. I was, however, still overly concerned with things for the first trimester, considering I’d lost my last baby at ten and a half weeks. Once I was safely into my second trimester I began to relax—everything was going great. It was actually amazing how well things were going.
Finally, we set a date for me to have a C-section because my doctor was concerned with the size of the baby and my ability to have him naturally, like I’d had Cordell. But, a little over a week before my scheduled delivery date, I started having contractions, so I went to the hospital. After a couple of hours my contractions stopped, and since I was scheduled to visit my doctor’s office in a few days, they sent me home.
The day of my appointment came and I went in to see my doctor. She couldn’t find a heartbeat, but since I’d already scheduled an ultrasound for after the appointment, she sent me straight over to the hospital. There the ultrasound technician found fluid around my baby’s heart; he was dead. At that point no one knew what had happened. We decided to induce my labor, and they drew many vials of blood (14) to check for anything that might have caused the baby’s death. But a few hours later, on February 21, 2007, when I had my baby, we knew what had happened. The umbilical cord had gotten around his neck. Otherwise he was perfect, beautiful, and would have been healthy.
It was hard, to put it lightly. I was continually assured by my doctor nothing I could have done could have prevented it. It was one of those things no one could foresee and no one could do anything about. But that didn’t change the pain and hurt the loss caused. It was harder to handle than the miscarriage—which had also been devastating for me—because we had been six days away from having the baby. Clothes were bought, the baby was named, and we were explaining to Cordell that he would be a big brother. On top of that, we now had a funeral to arrange. But, the absolute hardest thing I had to do was leave the hospital without my baby. Nothing can describe the way I felt leaving him behind, like I was abandoning him, even though I wasn’t.
Friends and family were very considerate and kind, but most didn’t know how to comfort us or what to say. My husband’s cousins had also lost a baby, and they helped us a lot. As a matter of fact, the best advice I got was from them. They said: “Don’t try to get over it, just try to live with it.” It helped me because I didn’t want to forget about my baby. He was real and I loved him—I still do.
My doctor didn’t want me to be alone for a while after I lost the baby, possibly because she’d given me a prescription for sleeping pills, which I never filled. But the alone time I had—having to take care of my son—was the best thing for me. I had to get out of bed every morning and see to his needs, and a two-year-old can be very demanding.
Honestly thoughts of hurting myself or anyone else never entered into my head. I’m not a quitter and I had a husband and son who loved me and needed me. I did however become a recluse. I didn’t want to go and do anything for a long time. I felt I made other people uncomfortable. No one knew what to say and most people were scared they would say the wrong thing and upset me. I also felt like I was depressing people so I tried not to talk about what happened. However one of my friends said she was glad I did talk about what happened. I’m a very open, honest, up front person. She said she would have worried about me more if I would have been holding everything in.
My husband was a great help to me, because we could talk about what had happened. I kept telling him I could see how something like losing a child could kill a marriage. (If one or both of you refuses to talk it will cripple your relationship, because at that point you need each other more than ever.) I don’t think either of us would have been able to make it through without each other.
Despite everything, I was still able to see babies and pregnant women and not feel bad. I kept thinking, At least they are doing well. I didn’t want others to go through the same devastation. Since I didn’t really want to interact with other people—because of the awkwardness—I started doing cross stitch to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. I would then give the pictures, etc., I made to other people. I found that making others happy helped to pull me out of my darkest moods.
For about two years I didn’t really care if I did anything with other people and preferred to just be at home with my family. I wasn’t scared to go out and be around other people—I did go out sometimes—I just didn’t feel like being social. I had deep thoughts going through my head and a tear in my soul, and being around people who seemed to not have a care in the world got very annoying. Everything they said and did seemed trivial, but I knew it was just people going on with their lives, something I was trying to do, but was struggling with. That’s when I started taking interest in writing again.
I had taken a writing test with the Institute of Children’s Literature when I was pregnant with my son, Cordell, and they kept sending me letters in the mail, wanting me to take a writing course. Although I hadn’t written much since I was in my teens, it interested me and finally I enrolled. I took a short course, but it was just the one I needed.
Writing gave me an interest and a purpose that was mine. I guess I needed something for me to focus on that used my brain and made me feel I had some importance outside my family—although I had plenty of purpose inside my family. It gave me a goal, something to concentrate on. I was very intent on getting published, and now, about two years later, I’ve been published many times and have my first book coming out soon.
Writing gives me a way to express myself and it helps with my emotions when they flip-flop back and forth from the PCOS and from life’s stresses in general. As a matter of fact, the day after I had my stillborn son, I wrote a poem. I didn’t know it then, but I guess it was kind of a jump start into what I’d be doing in my future. Just putting the words down on paper seemed to help, and we used the poem in the handouts at the funeral.
Wyatt Cole Besser
By Rebecca Besser
Feb. 22, 2007
Though no one understands why I couldn’t stay,
And why I got called so soon to go far away.
Do not worry about me in any way,
I went to Heaven to play.
My Grandma’s there to hold me tight,
And God loves me more than anyone else might.
I will wait in Heaven for my Mommy and Daddy
Someday we will be reunited as a family.
So if you get sad for me in any way,
Just remember, I’m in Heaven happily playing today.
I also wrote a poem for a poetry contest where you were supposed to write about the most difficult experience of your life. It won an honorable mention and a signed book of poetry.
I MISS YOU
by Rebecca Besser
Six more days,
and I would have
held you in my arms.
I
hate that I lost you.
I never got to know
you, so how can I
miss
you so very much?
My special baby boy,
no one else can be
you.
I held you in the
hospital. Even though
you didn’t move in
my
arms. I kissed you
even though you
couldn’t feel my
love.
You will be part
of me forever. I’ll
always remember you,
and
will always hold you
in a special place in
my heart. Love will
always
be a part of my
memories of you.
I miss you, and always
will.
Now I’m a full-time writer and I actually want to be around people again, which is still a constant struggle because it’s hard to rebuild relationships with friends after you didn’t want to be around anyone for years. But I have my writing and have meet an entire world of people—literally a world. I’ve met people from all over the globe who have the same interests as me and who have been very supportive in their own way.
Mostly though, I wouldn’t be who I am today or have the strength I do without my faith in God. Knowing my children are safe and happy in Heaven gives me peace. When I get depressed, I think about the parents whose children have been kidnaped and they don’t know where they are or what is happening to them and I remind myself it could be way worse. My children are in the hands of God and He loves them more than I do. It gives me some comfort and a sense of peace.
My husband and son have also helped me tremendously and have supported me in my writing. I don’t know where I would be without them.
Despite the pain I still feel when I think of my babies—I’ll always love them—I’ve learned to live with it and go on, because I can’t go back and change anything and there’s so much left to live for.
Copyright © Rebecca Besser 2011
***
Obviously, one of the reasons I’m sharing this right now is because I’m dealing with random spurts of grief, even all these years later, since it’s February, which ironically is also my birth month. I’m always grateful it’s the shortest month of the year.
And, a side note since I haven’t read this in a long time, I’ve realized how far I’ve come with PCOS. I almost never have the severe mood swings anymore. (Grateful for the little things.)
So, if you know me, and I’m being a bit grumpy, please forgive me. I’m doing the best I can at “Living With It.”
Copyright © Rebecca Besser 2023