A guest post by Becky Wooster
March 19, 2020
Dr. Becky Wooster, PT is a Catholic, a wife, and a mom to three children on earth and one in heaven. She has been a physical therapist for 13 years, practicing in orthopedics and now focusing her PT career on serving pregnant and postpartum women. She was led to professionally work with women through experiencing a range of struggles and joys with the pregnancies, births and postpartum times with her children. “The female body is truly miraculous, and the body goes through a lot with each pregnancy and birth. I aim to understand each woman’s story and then teach her what is going on uniquely with her body to then empower her to meet her PT goals.” Look her up at budandbloomptaustin.com.
It was the day we moved. We were hauling boxes into our new home when I took a bathroom break and found blood.
I told my husband who quickly turned white in the face.
Optimistically, we thought maybe the bleeding was temporary, but it only worsened. I was about nine weeks pregnant. Only my husband and I shared the joy of knowing that we were growing our family of three (at the time we had a 1 ½-year-old boy).
The bleeding continued and became very heavy. It really hurt physically; like the worst menstrual pain I’ve had, tenfold.
It really hurt emotionally; I felt a lot of guilt. I had been working hard painting the new house, so I blamed myself for working too hard and possibly exposing the baby to toxins from the painting.
Worst of all, it really hurt my relationship with my husband; it drove a wedge between us.
While I was suffering physically and emotionally, my husband went into a mental solitary confinement to try to sort things out in his head. He selfishly only took care of himself. I selfishly pined for his care and did not fully turn to God to heal me of my physical and emotional wounds.
Angry at God and knowing that we couldn’t handle this shocker alone, we sought out the advice of our priest. He quickly and intuitively knew what was going on. He figuratively “slapped us in the face,” and urged us to suffer together.
He also encouraged us to memorialize the baby.
You see, Catholics hold to be true that life begins at conception, so this was an end to the life that my husband and I had been celebrating.
Related: Wrapping Our Lost Children in Sacredness
My husband and I eventually came together and suffered together. As I write this, I don’t remember the details of how we came together, but it involved a lot of crying and praying.
Seeking community, we told a handful of good friends and our close family about the miscarriage. Unless you have experienced a miscarriage yourself, it’s really hard to relate to. We would tell these close confidants and they would be like the proverbial “deer in headlights,” not knowing what to say or how to react. It was an awkward, “We’re so sorry” and a hug and then change the subject.
Related: How to Support a Friend Struggling With Infertility
As mentioned, our priest encouraged us to memorialize the lost life. My husband and I planted a Texas redbud tree in the backyard of our new home shortly after the miscarriage.
The leaves of this tree are shaped like hearts. The tree continues to grow and bloom beautiful flowers yearly.
In anticipation of having a baby girl (like I mentioned, we had a rambunctious 1½-year-old boy at the time), we named the little soul Hope.
We have a candle that we light nightly at dinner to offer up prayers of comfort and hope for suffering parents due to miscarriage, abortion, and infertility. This candle (along with “Hope’s tree”) is a teaching tool for our now three children. It is a symbol of life so that we can teach them about the truths of our Church, honoring and dignifying life.
I believe that I am an unusual case. I suffered greatly for only approximately a month and then my suffering turned to joy when I was surprised to conceive on my next ovulation after the miscarriage.
I see the miscarried baby as a martyr to bring about a new life that is currently a jovial 4½-year-old little boy — Levi!
Interestingly, Levi’s birth process was very smooth, and I don’t remember much physical pain. His birth into the world was so peaceful that immediately after he was born I exclaimed, “I want to do that again!” He was a sweet happy baby and now little boy who appreciates beauty in the clouds, sunset, and all types of music.
A few years later, we were blessed to conceive another child, Eden.
As Christians we hope that we will meet the deceased one day in heaven.
I am ever hopeful that I will not share the love of not three but four little souls if I make it to heaven.
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& If you aren’t a part of our Bands of Hope Online Infertility Support Group, we’d love to have you join us! It’s a community filled with those who seek and offer spiritual and emotional support to anyone struggling with fertility issues!
Thank you for sharing your wonderful story. When marriages become stronger God is amongst us.