I was 22 years old and had been reunited with my high school sweetheart just one year prior. When I got pregnant I was overjoyed at the prospect of having a baby. I had the urge to be a mother from the time I was 17, when my mother had a surprise pregnancy. Due to her health she gave the baby up for adoption. But before she did I had the privilege of looking into those beautiful baby-blue saucer eyes of my tiny five pound brother. I melted.

So, it was with great excitement that I shared my news with everyone I knew and came in contact with. I couldn't wait to see an ultrasound or hear the heartbeat pounding out of the Doctor's Doppler. Thoughts of motherhood fleeted through my mind. The sounds of a baby's cry, the touch of his or her tiny fingers, the feel of baby's breath on my cheek. I simply couldn't wait!

I was only six weeks along when I started to bleed. I phoned the doctor in a panic. That day I went into the office for an ultrasound. But everything was normal. There he was, just as alive as can be. The technician pointed to a tiny flashing speck on the screen, which indicated the baby's heartbeat. I was instructed not to panic and to keep the doctor informed.

So I went home. Not satisfied, even after seeing the living child on that screen. Several days passed and I continued to bleed...and cry. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. I had told everyone how excited I was, and now only a week later everything had changed.

I kept calling the doctor's office and telling them that I was still bleeding. I was brought in for yet another ultrasound only three days after the first. Again, the baby was fine. A couple of days later the bleeding increased. The flow became a bit heavier and I panicked. When I phoned the doctor he was short with me and told me that there was nothing else that they could do. We just had to wait it out. Easy for him to say. My mind was in turmoil and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The next morning something willed me out of bed. I was bleeding so heavily that I didn't make it the short trip to the bathroom. When I got there I remember passing a golf ball sized object, without any pain or discomfort. I was in shock. I knew in my heart what had happened at that moment, but my mind was blocking it. Perhaps protecting me. When I got up the water was such a deep red that I was unable to see what had left my body. I was in a whirlwind and didn't know what to do. I flushed.

I silently went out into the kitchen of my tiny apartment and put on a pot of coffee. I sat down and began to clip coupons. No tears. Nothing. The words of my doctor kept ringing through my head "There's nothing else we can do..." Over and over again. I was afraid to call him, so I didn't. That was Sunday morning.

On Monday I went to work as usual. When I told my boss what had happened she convinced me that I MUST phone the doctor. When I did he instructed me to immediately get into the office, that I may develop an infection. An emergency D&C was performed in the office...no anesthetic. It was horrible. The pain was excruciating, as if someone were plucking out my insides. I cried and cried. With no one there with me to comfort me because I chose not to share my fears. My husband didn't even know I was there until the nurse phoned him.

I went home and cried. I cried for hours about the child I would never meet. So many thoughts went through my head. Was it a boy or a girl? Would he have blue eyes? Would she have brown hair? Would he be a lefty like his Mommy? Would she be a good student? Would he be a football star? Would she join the cheerleading squad? Hours. I cried until I fell asleep.

The next morning I began my recovery. My husband, friends, family and coworkers were wonderful. They expressed their sympathy and were encouraging as well. I don't believe that I have ever heard the phrase "It must not have been meant to be" so many times before in my life. So I guess that's true. It must not have been meant to be, something must have been wrong. Why else would it have happened? One minute a heartbeat, the next...nothing.

A year later I became pregnant again and had yet another miscarriage. This time there never was a heartbeat. I was thirteen weeks along when it was discovered that only the sack was growing but nothing was alive inside. This time I was admitted to outpatient for another D&C to remove yet another baby from my life.

Soon after my mother passed away at the young age of 45. I was 23 years old then. She never did see any of her grandchildren and that just broke my heart. I still grieve over that.

When I was 24 I discovered I was pregnant. A close eye was kept on me due to my history. Several ultrasounds were administered but there was never a problem. Not even morning sickness. In June of 1992 my first son was born. He was perfect in every way. Heaven had sent me my first child. I couldn't have been happier. I had always feared that I would never be able to have children. Thinking that I would miscarry every pregnancy.

I am now the proud Mommy of four beautiful children. I never had another problem after my second miscarriage. Though I must admit, it was a difficult thing to go through. It if weren't for my family and friends the effects might have been mentally devastating. Thanks to all who were there for me, I love you all.

To find a support group in your state go to Compassionate Friends.

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