The Child I’ll Never Hold

The Child I’ll Never Hold
May 6, 2016 3 minute read

I started bleeding.

I was staying with my sisters-in-law for the weekend, I was twelve weeks pregnant, and I started bleeding. I had two healthy boys at home, but I had lost three babies before. So I knew. I knew in that moment that I would never hold this baby in my arms. I spent hours in the bathroom in the middle of the night, losing my baby. I reached out for help from others staying in the house but I couldn’t get ahold of anyone. When I finally got ahold of my husband he came to be with me and brought me to the emergency room. I couldn’t talk once we got there. I couldn’t say out loud what was happening. I couldn’t say how I knew it was happening. I was in so much pain from the contractions and had so much pain in my heart.

They brought us into a room and only a couple of minutes later the police stormed into the room and took my husband into the hallway. I saw that they had their guns drawn on him. My mind raced: I am losing my baby…am I losing my husband too? I asked the staff what was going on and they just told me to be quiet. After a few minutes, which felt like a few hours, they discovered they had a case of mistaken identity. Dave came back into the room and the police left and I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I wept with relief that I wasn’t losing my husband on the day we were losing our baby, but the grief from our loss was still there. The ER doctor did all of the tests and eventually said that he couldn’t see any signs of our baby. I wanted to argue with him, tell him I had a baby so there had to be signs, but I couldn’t. He sent us home because there wasn’t anything he could do for us.

I called my mom and sisters and told them what happened. I told them, “I’m fine.” I was so numb I wasn’t feeling anything. I knew I wasn’t fine but I didn’t know what I felt so I didn’t know what else to say. I felt like I had to be strong for them because they just lost their niece or nephew, granddaughter or grandson.

I spent two months on the couch. I tried to heal. I healed physically but I didn’t heal emotionally. I’m stuck in those moments where I knew my baby was gone and my husband was in the hallway with the police. I can’t process everything that happened. I can’t really mourn our baby. We named her Scarlett so we could talk about her more, but it’s still too hard to even say her name. I’m trying really hard to get through this. I’ve started to be so thankful we had Scarlett for those twelve weeks. She gave us so much joy during incredibly difficult times. Just because she’s gone now doesn’t mean she wasn’t here, doesn’t mean she isn’t loved – loved as deeply as she was during that short time she grew inside of me.

My due date is two weeks away and I feel like I’m losing her all over again. I can’t believe we won’t be welcoming our baby into this world soon. Is she really gone?




With my sweet Aiden and Anders on a recent trip to the beach in Florida.

-you can read more of Karen Keranen’s words over at her personal blog here.

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