17: When You Lose Your Baby


Posted: March 18, 2018 by Ashley Ogle

48 hours.

We only had 48 hours with our baby.

Looking back, it all seems like a blur. Two days after those two pink lines,  I started spotting. I called my doctor, and he said not to worry unless it became stronger. He wanted me to stay on bed rest until it stopped.

Yet, a voice deep inside of me told me something wasn’t right. I called my mom and immediately broke down.

She was in the middle of a big meeting, yet she answered my call:

Hey Honey, can I call you right back?”

Immediate break down. Uncontrollable sobs and screams.

“Ashley, What is it? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Where are you right now?”

“Mom, I think I’m losing my baby. I think I’m losing it. Mom, I can’t lose my baby. I don’t know what to do. I think I’m going to lose it.”

The world stopped. There was a pause on the other end of the phone. It took a second for my mom to understand.

“What? Ashley! You’re PREGNANT? You’re Pregnant! Oh my goodness! Slow down, honey. What happened?”

There was excitement in her voice, then confusion.

“I found out I was pregnant two days ago. I didn’t want to tell you like this, Mom. It was supposed to be special. I had the announcement already made. The nurse has me on bed rest. I didn’t want to call you, but I don’t know what to do.”

I was crying so uncontrollably…

“Okay, just take a deep breath. I’m not understanding.”

“Taylor and I were planning to come surprise you and Dad with the news today, but I started spotting. I think I’m losing my baby. I can’t lose my baby! Something’s not right. I can feel it.”

Oh, Ashley. Why didn’t you call me sooner?

“I didn’t want to tell you like this. It was supposed to be special. Now, I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose my baby, Mom!”

Honey, stay right there. I’m leaving work and your dad and I are coming to Knoxville.

I was on bed rest for 8 days. I pleaded for God to save my baby. I begged Him to protect my child. I demanded that He healed me. I refused to let go of this miracle. After the nurse suggested bed rest, I panicked. Fear began to choke me. The dream of the birth announcement I created vanished. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe that this was true.

My world completely stopped. I laid on my bed in the fetal position and sobbed for days. It felt like time stood still. It seemed like everyone was moving around me, yet I couldn’t move myself. Nothing mattered. Physically I was there, but mentally I was so far away. I felt like I was outside my own body. I couldn’t think about anything. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I couldn’t hear anyone when they spoke to me. I couldn’t tell you how my husband was doing. I could only cry and scream into a pillow. I felt like I had reverted back to being 5 years old, I was hurt, and all I wanted was my mom; I just needed my husband to hold me.

My sweet dogs were so loyal during this time. They didn’t leave my side.

As the days passed, the pain and the bleeding became stronger. Every trip to the bathroom was just a flashing, bold reminder that I had lost my right to be a mom. I laid on the bathroom floor screaming with hot, painful tears running down my face. The pain in my abdomen was unbearable. Every sharp burst of pain that I felt created a bigger and bigger hole in my heart.

That was my baby. How was it gone? What did I do this cause this? I knew I shouldn’t of had surgery in our month off. This had to be my fault. I just wanted my baby. I didn’t have time to miscarry. My husband and I were supposed to go on a trip for my brother in law’s 30th birthday. I was supposed to host a Junior League meeting at my house. I had plans to go to my best friend’s sons 3rd birthday party. I was supposed to be celebrating this news! What should I say to everyone now? Sorry, I can’t make it. I’m losing my first child. This was not supposed to happen. How was I supposed to act normal?

No one ever told me what its like to lose a baby. No one ever told me the physical side effects to loss. No one ever told me how painful it was, physically and emotionally. No one said you could actually see the tissue that was once your baby, and you had to be the one to flush them away forever like a forgotten memory. I had known my baby for 48 hours, yet it felt like I was losing someone I knew my entire life. I can’t really express the grief in words. It’s deeper than anything I have ever experienced.

I remember hiding in the shower and punching the wall as I cried. I was so angry and felt so empty. I let my tears mix in with the hot water and I wished it would just wash away the deep pain I was feeling. Inside of me was a void of a child that never was and years of memories that would never be had.

After the eighth day of bed rest, my husband and I had an appointment at the doctor to confirm our loss. I was stuck in bed for eight days and continued to hold onto the hope that it was all a dream. Just ten days ago I had entered this office skipping and grinning, and now I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t make eye contact. The nurse said our numbers were 0, and we lost our baby. Our doctor wanted us to take a month or two off before trying again. And, that was that. We were once pregnant, and now we weren’t. Our dreams were dead in an instant. I just wanted my husband to hold me and never leave. If we never left the office, then it wouldn’t be true. How was it possible for me to be so connected to this baby after such a short time? How is it possible that I felt a pain this deep?

Inside I was so angry at God that I couldn’t speak to Him. I let my thoughts run somewhere that I’m ashamed to write about. Why would He let me know about this miracle, then immediately take it from me? Why did I even have to find out? How could He do this to me? To be honest, I didn’t speak to God for three days after our loss. I was so angry with Him, but once that anger eased, I was just so sad. Like a child who has fallen and hurt themselves, I ran to my Father because I needed Him desperately in this moment. Finally on the third day, I whispered the smallest prayer I could muster,

“Lord, I don’t know why this happened, but I need your peace right now. I do believe you are good and I love you.”

Looking back, I’m really sad that my immediate response to our loss was a fist in God’s face. Now, just four months later, I can see His good hand throughout this difficult situation. I’m sad I ever doubted or questioned the goodness of God. I’m humbled, because while my fist was shaking up towards Him, His mercies still never ceased.  As soon as I prayed that, the Lord granted me a peace that was tangible. It completely washed over me. Deep inside, I knew I could trust Him, and that I would be okay. Eventually, the pain would stop.  I refused to blame this on Him. Instead, with the strength He gave me, I was able to worship again. I wanted to praise in Him the storm. I began writing a list of all the blessings the Lord has given me, and those were the things I had to rest on. I asked my Amazon Alexa to play worship music throughout the day, and I let those songs flood our home. I had Alexa praise Him when I was unable to sing. If He’s carried me this far, why would He leave me now?

Trying to express this experience in words has brought up a lot of those same emotions I felt four months ago. I’m sad, because I was just 5 weeks along. I knew my child for 48 hours. I’m sad, because I am reminded of the women who knew their babies for months before they lost. That is an unbearable thought to me. If I felt this much pain after such a short period of time, I can’t imagine how you felt. I pray for you ladies and think of you often. I pray for that His peace is so strong and tangible to you.

As you walk through miscarriage, you may think God has left you, or that He’s far away. You may think He doesn’t understand. But, He does. In fact, He writes about this very thing in the love letter He’s given to us.  Rachel was unable to conceive, while her sister Leah was able have son after son. Rachel struggled with bitterness and jealously during her battle with infertility. She tried to take things into her own hands by offering her maid to conceive a son with her husband Jacob. But, there’s something you may not know about Rachel. Rachel also suffered a miscarriage, and not just one. Jeremiah 31:15 says, “This is what the Lord says- A cry is heard in Ramah- deep anguish and bitter weeping. Rachel weeps for her children, refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” The Lord is telling us this. He understood Rachel’s “deep anguish,” and He heard her “bitter weeping.” God was with Rachel then, and He’s with us right now. In response to Rachel’s grief, the Lord of Lords comforted her by telling her to “Keep your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for there is reward for your work. There is hope for your future, and your children shall come back” Jeremiah 31:16-17. Did you hear that ladies? God hears your pain, and He has hope for your future.

He carried me through this, and He made it possible for me to share it with you. He continues to bring good from an incredibly hard circumstance. We will continue to share our story and all the things God has done for us. Hopefully, it can encourage you.

To our friends and family, thank you for walking alongside us and encouraging us during this time. We love you all!



If you’ve recently experienced loss and need someone to walk alongside you or pray for you, please reach out to me. Don’t keep it in the dark. I’d love to write your name on a stone and pray over you!

Want to hear my entire story? Start at Blog Post 00, and follow along in order!

To keep in touch, find me on Instagram and Facebook. You can follow my story and my guests stories by adding me as a friend or following my page.

Want to continue reading?

Check out my most popular posts!

Marriage & Infertility 

Appointed Time

Visible Prayer

Macie and Adam’s Guest Story

1 Comment

  • Shae March 19, 2018 at 10:48 am

    This story is so strangely familiar. My story almost exactly. Calling your mom early, saying “I didn’t want to tell you like this”…. the doctors office, feeling like it was your fault… everything. Thank you for sharing the real/ raw emotions. While reading I kept thinking, yep, yes, exactly. People do not realize how hard this whole process is. You are so right NO ONE tells you how hard it can be. Stories of hope and faith etc. can be wonderful but personally I love stories like this that are real and raw, it makes me feel like someone understands. So thank you!


Leave a Reply