Pregnancy Loss Resource: Grieving Together

Hello dear readers! It's been a while since I published a post and even longer since I posted regularly, but since this blog does get regular hits from women (and probably men) looking for miscarriage resources and support and companionship, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to share - and giveaway! - an incredible new miscarriage resource. I received a free copy of the book to review, but my admiration is 100% authentic.

In the five years since my first miscarriage, I've often thought of the books I wish had been written about miscarriage. I've really yearned for miscarriage books specifically from the Catholic perspective and there aren't many out there. I've wished for books about pregnancy after loss, ones specifically about recurrent miscarriage, and books that connected the Saints and their wisdom to pregnancy loss. However, one of the books I never thought about that (I didn't realize) I needed was one written by a married couple: Grieving Together: A Couple's Journey through Miscarriage.

Perhaps the most unique aspect of this book is not that it discusses marriage (though that too is novel), but that it includes a male author, a father's voice. Men are usually completely left out of the topic of miscarriage all together, something I quickly realized after my first loss. Written by Laura Kelly Fanucci and Franco David Fanucci, a couple who experienced infertility, miscarriage, and infant death together, Grieving Together finally addresses this deficit (and so much more).

One of the things I appreciate most about this book is that, though less than 200 pages, it covers a wide range of aspects of miscarriage, including not only grieving as a couple, but also the answers to many of the practical and spiritual questions about loss, for example: What is physical recovery like? What can you do to support a friend who lost a baby? Are miscarried babies in heaven? And it also has an excellent section on pregnancy after loss, satisfying my desire for a book on that topic.

I can't recommend this book enough for any Catholic couple who has lost a baby to miscarriage (and much of the book is relevant to any Christian couple). I could go on and on about the merits of this book, but I'll just leave you with this final praise, the email message I sent to author Laura Fanucci while reading my copy: "Laura, thank you so much for this book. It’s been almost 4 years and two healthy pregnancies and babies since my last (my fourth) miscarriage but for some reason the past month has been really hard. This been has helped heal some of the hurt I didn’t realize was still there. On two occasions, I’ve also come to bed to see my husband had snagged my copy off my nightstand and was reading it."

Grieving Together was released earlier this month and is available from Our Sunday Visitor and Amazon. You can also read more from Laura Fanucci at her lovely blog, Mothering Spirit. Excerpts of the book have also been turned into a free e-book, "How To Support Parents Who Have Lost a Child", a wonderful resource in itself.

If you would like to win this book for yourself or to give to a friend who has experienced miscarriage, please comment below with why you would want to win this book/what you are most interested in reading about in it. Please make sure to include an email address so I can contact you if you win. A winner will be randomly chosen on Dec. 6 (the Feast of St. Nicholas) so I can ship it to you in time for Christmas, since the holidays can be a particularly difficult time after losing a baby (even years later, Christmas is difficult for me without all my children here). God bless you and good luck!

Remembrance

Saturday was the second anniversary of my first miscarriage. It was a rough day. We were spending the weekend at my in-laws so there wasn't any sort of ritual or remembrance; but we were busy with family all day and in the end, I think that was probably the best way it could have been spent. Had we still lived in North Carolina, we would have continued our family tradition of honoring our baby by daily Mass, visiting the cemetery, and then an afternoon at the beach. (The cemetery was about an hour and a half away on the way to the beach. When my husband buried our baby, our priest mentioned that making a beach day of visiting the grave could be beautiful family tradition. And it really was.) We tried to go to daily Mass but none of the parishes close to my in-laws had one on Saturday mornings. In absence of a grave or beach to visit, keeping busy was the best way to distract me from the pain of the day.

Many people assume that these anniversaries are less painful because I'm currently nine months pregnant. And yes, in many ways, the joy of the child in my womb blunts the pain. But in other ways, this pregnancy has added a sharpness to the pain of these remembrances. Each milestone I reach in this pregnancy, each baby kick, each midwife appointment and heartbeat heard is a reminder of what I'll never get to experience with four of my children.

Two years and a healthy pregnancy later, the pain is still not gone. Yes, life goes on and we've found ways to experience joy again. But thoughts of our children will always remain. We'll always be aware that they are not here, that there are four souls missing from our family. That's why days like today, Pregnancy Loss and Remembrance Day, are important. Because they validate the desire to remember. When the rest of the world has forgotten and expects us to forget too, a day like today reminds us that remembrance is important, it is good, it is necessary.

Every night I pray for parents who have lost a baby and for those little souls gone too soon. But today, your intentions were my constant prayer, in all I did and thought and said. May God comfort you in your grief and bring healing and fruit from your suffering.

My Grief Checklist

We all made it to Colorado safely! Since we're still busy unpacking and with a wedding this weekend (I'm matron of honor and Lucia is flower girl), I thought I'd resurrect another miscarriage post from my old blog. This post originally appeared on December 13, 2013, a couple months after my first miscarriage on Messy Wife, Blessed Life. I've updated it a bit to reflect my additional losses. This also got me thinking about what I need right now, a sort of "Pregnancy After Loss Checklist", so I might just have to write a post about that soon.
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A contributor of one of the pregnancy loss ebooks I read (Sunshine After the Storm) wrote this about a "grief checklist":

This is a tool to help you build a list to help others help you. Friends and family may not have any idea of what would be helpful to you.  It is wonderful when people just DO things, but often they may ask you what you need...

I've been thinking quite a bit about what would have been helpful right after my losses (and what would be helpful still).  The first few days, I had no idea how I felt, and therefore didn't know what exactly I needed.  I received some kind offers for help from friends, but I didn't take them up on them.  In hindsight, I should have.  After about a week, I could tell people exactly what I needed, but at that point, most had stopped asking if they could help and I didn't feel comfortable asking.  

I'm totally in agreement with the quote above - it was much more helpful for someone to just DO than to ASK.  Just call and say you are bringing over dinner.  Just call and say, "I'm coming over so you don't have to be alone." or "I'm picking up Lucia so you and David can spend time together."  If I really didn't want you to, I would say so.  But if you ask if you can do those things, I will most likely say no because as much as I know I should accept help, I hate to inconvenience others. 

I'm not writing this as a guideline of what you should do if you have a friend who has experienced pregnancy loss or what you yourself will need if you go through this.  This is a list of my own personal needs, though I suspect that many women have similar needs (many of these ideas I got through reading about others experiences and realizing Yes, that would help me too.)  Grief is different for everyone; some women will find comfort in certain things that would only further the pain for other, but you can use this as a jumping off point for writing your own list or coming up with ideas to help those you love.

I should also mention that I don't expect any one person to do all the things on this list - one person sending flowers after a loss and another person asking how I'm doing and a third person sending a card on a special date - that's all I need. Don't feel like you need to be everything to your friend or family member who has had a loss. Do what you can - hopefully she has a strong support system that together will fill all her needs.

• Say "I'm sorry". I know it's hard to say the perfect thing (is there a perfect thing to say anyway?) but it's unfortunately easy to say something unintentionally hurtful, especially if you haven't experienced a loss yourself.  You can't go wrong with a simple, "I'm sorry for your loss".  
• Tell me you are praying for me. And then pray.  A lot.
• Acknowledge that I lost a CHILD.  A baby. A person. A unique human being.  Do not use a euphemism like "tissue" or "pregnancy" or "possibility of a child" or "opportunity".  A good rule of thumb for what to say after a loss is to only say things you would say to a parent that lost a 10 year old.  Would you tell them, "You can always get pregnant again"? For me, that meant that the speaker didn't recognize my child was unique and could never be replaced.  I don't just mourn the fact that I won't have a baby to hold come May, but I miss that specific, irreplaceable child with his/her own personality, preferences and quirks.  
• Don't call my baby an "angel".  This is something that's very specific to me, I'm sure many other mothers don't mind or actually prefer "angel baby".  I'm not sure if there are any Christian faiths that believe that people in heaven become angels, but as a Catholic, I believe that angels are beings created separately from humans.  I believe my children most likely in heaven.  But wings?  No.  I want my child to be celebrated for what he/she really is - a child of God who is in heaven with Him.  I understand the good intentions behind this, but similar to how I imagine atheists feel when you try to comfort them by telling them their loved one is in heaven, it's not comforting to me to be told that my child is something I don't believe he/she can be. 
• Ask me about it.  I want to talk about it, but it's a hard topic for me to bring up, especially if I don't know how you might react.  Ask me how I am doing.  Ask me if I want to talk about it.  Ask me to tell you about how the actual miscarriage happened.  Ask me about my feelings and my fears.  If I really am not feeling like talking about it, I will just tell you.  But I don't know if I've ever felt that way - I'm still dying to talk about it to anyone who asks.  And if you worry about what to say in return, you don't have to say much.  Just listen.  You can ask questions if you have them.  It does not open a wound for you to bring it up - believe me, two months later it is still the foremost thought on my mind.
• Ask me my baby's name.  Seriously, it was the most touching thing when someone asked me if we named our child, if I minded sharing the name, and then when they used the name in conversation.  I haven't shared the name publicly yet, I just haven't felt comfortable doing so, but I have been happy to share the name with friends and family one-on-one.  
• Don't ignore it.  Whatever you do, don't act like it never happened.  It did happen.  One of my greatest fears is that no one else will remember this child of mine existed.  Remind me that you still remember.
• Ask me how I'm doing. One of my biggest struggles is feeling like people expect me to already be over it.  I felt that way within a week of the miscarriage because after the initial round of "I'm sorries", very few mentioned it or asked me how I was doing.  Just having a few people checking in on me periodically made me feel like I had the "approval" to still be mourning and struggling.  I don't know why but I really needed (and still need) friends and family to acknowledge that it's normal and expected that I'm not "over it" and haven't "moved on" yet.
• Spend time with me.  Just come over and sit with me.  It's hard to be alone with my thoughts during the day when David is gone.
• Send me flowers. People send flowers when a baby is born.  When a person dies.  I so badly wanted flowers because I felt like they signified that my baby was real, that the loss was real. Just ask my husband - in the few days following the miscarriage, I told him many times, "I wish someone would just send us flowers." Thankfully, David's coworkers sent us a beautiful bouquet and I felt a burden lifted off my shoulders when it arrived at the front door.
• Send a card. I received only one card after my miscarriage and it meant so, so much to me.  I will keep that card forever. When someone loses a loved one, people send cards and just like the flowers, it was significant to me because it told me that the sender acknowledged that I actually lost a a child.  It is also something physical that I can hold and look at to remember my baby's short life - with a miscarriage, especially an early one, there aren't many physical mementos for the parents to keep.
• Give me something to remember my baby by. Again, something physical that I can hold and touch when it gets hard and all I want to do is hold and touch my baby.  Something concrete that reminds me that other people knew my baby existed, that my baby was real and not just a creation of my mind.  Some ideas: a rosary or prayer card, a baby item (hat, booties, etc.), something with the baby's name on it, a Christmas ornament that I can hang for our baby every year. 
• Offer specific help with the day-to-day tasks.  For me, it's so hard to keep the household running smoothly when I can't focus on anything but the overwhelming sadness.  The first few weeks were even more difficult because I was also physically weak.  Everything is difficult - laundry, grocery shopping, making dinner.  Even playing with Lucia is hard.  I am doing better now, but especially those first few weeks were riddled with guilt on top of grief - guilt that I was not able to focus on Lucia, I lost patience with her, often just needed to lay in bed all day, and I was overall not able to care for her like I should have because I was so wrapped up in my own sadness.  If you could take her somewhere fun or just come play with her while I rest, that would be wonderful.  Bring me dinner (or gift cards for take out).  Drop off groceries and household staples like toilet paper. 
• Remember these dates with me: October 10 and May 8 (Francis Michael), February 21 and September 17 (Julian Gabriel), June 25 (Adrienne Rafael), December 19 and July 21 (Christian Michael).  The first is the day I lost my baby.  The second is my expected due date.  (Adrienne was an early loss and I don't know exactly what day I lost her, so I only remember the due date.) I've gone through quite a due dates and even the one year anniversary of Francis Michael's due date (when he would be turning one) and they continue to be hard. If you sent me a card on those days, or called me, or plan to spend time with me on those days, I would feel a little less alone.  Also, holidays, like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Mother's Day will be hard.  Let me know you're specifically thinking and praying for me on those days.  And not just this first year, every year on those dates and holidays has been difficult.
• Use delicacy when announcing/discussing your pregnancies. I don't want you to hide your joy or to feel like I'm not happy for you.  Because I am, I am so, so happy for you!  Having lost my child does not diminish the miracle of yours.  I'm not jealous - I don't wish you wouldn't have a baby and I don't wish that your baby was mine.  It's just a reminder of my own loss.  And sometimes that reminder is too much.  Too raw.  Especially if you have a due date close to mine - it's like the ghost of my pregnancy haunting me.  All I ask is that you initially tell me in private, especially if you plan to later announce in public where I might not have the chance to privately deal with my emotions.  By all means, share with me the big news - the healthy ultrasounds and the sex if you find out - but I could probably skip the minute details of your pregnancy, especially the complaining.  You have every right to complain - pregnancy is HARD - but just not to me, please?  Not now.  If I ask, complain away!  Sometimes I feel perfectly fine talking about it.  But sometimes, it's just like a knife to the heart. I'm usually fine being around babies, but sometimes it's hard - around due dates or just for seemingly no reason at all. If I choose not to hold your baby or wait a while before coming to visit after the birth, be patient with me.
• Don't forget my husband. I didn't mention when I originally wrote this post, but after a few more losses, I've realized how much support fathers need as well and how often they are left out. Ask HIM how he's doing. Pray for him and let him know that you are specifically including him in your prayers as well. Let him know that he doesn't need to handle his grief and take care of me all on his own. Include his name in cards. Offer to watch our living children so we can spend time together, or offer to help me so he can go do something by himself. 

If you've experiences a pregnancy loss, I'd love to hear about how your list differed from mine.  Is anything on my "to-do" list on your "don't-do" list?  What did/do you need that I didn't mention?  I think it's helpful to see the great differences in how people grieve and what they need in the wake of a loss.

To Bury the Dead

A couple weeks ago was the year anniversary of our baby Francis Michael's due date. I mentioned that our tradition for his due date and loss date is to go to the cemetery to visit his grave and then to the beach, and I shared a few pictures from the due date last year. We weren't able to do it that weekend due to poor weather, but last Saturday, we made the trip. 

Visiting the cemetery was really hard. I, very unexpectedly, burst into tears the moment David turned our car into the cemetery. Lucia had to go to the bathroom almost immediately and there are no facilities on the grounds open on the weekends, so we had to leave pretty quickly to find a gas station.  And then, of course, was the fact that this wasn't just a regular trip but also a goodbye. We move away next week and have no idea when or if we'll ever be able to visit our baby's grave again.

An afternoon at the beach provides a beautiful counterbalance to our morning at the cemetery. It's easy to get caught up in the sorrow of our lost babies at times like that, so doing something as our earthly family of three is a perfect reminder that while we'll always feel the absence of those four little souls, the life we've been given is pretty great too. We have so much to be thankful for and there is so much joy in our family just the way it is, it's hard to miss those truths during a sun-filled day at the beach.
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After our day, I was reflecting a bit on how much we're going to miss this little tradition and how blessed we've felt to have been able to bury our baby. Francis is our only child with a grave because he was the only one for whom we had an actual body; two of our others showed only empty sacs on their ultrasounds, meaning they never developed a body or their bodies were reabsorbed into the gestational sac very early; the other was a very early loss and I never noticed the baby passing. Some couples do bury whatever tissue and remains they have, even if it were just and empty sac, but after the stress we underwent trying to arrange a final resting place for Francis, we were at peace not burying those little ones.

Many Catholic diocese have programs in place that bury miscarried children for free. Usually, it's a large grave for all miscarried babies with some kind of statue or memorial, and there are group services several times a year. I've also heard of cemeteries that provide plots for free and funeral homes that will perform their services for free. There are no such programs or places in our area. After our first miscarriage, we had the remains of our baby in a little plastic container in our refrigerator for days as we tried to figure out how to bury him with dignity.

I contacted our diocese, pro-life organizations, and every possible group I thought could help and received the same response over and over again, "Sorry for your loss, but we can't help you." There was no one who could offer me any advice. I called every funeral home and cemetery in our area, but none could offer me even a tiny discount. We were told we had to pay full price for a child plot and full price for an infant casket, which would have been around $1,000 total. It was money we didn't have at the time, especially since we were facing medical bills for the miscarriage related costs. It was a stressful time for us. The only things we could do to care for our baby were name him and bury him and the longer our baby sat unburied, the heavier it weighted on our hearts.

Thankfully, we were able to get a hold of our wonderful pastor who took care of everything for us. He already had plans to take another father to the closest Catholic cemetery (about an hour away) to bury his miscarried child and invited David along with him. He was friends with the pastor of the cemetery parish and was able to arrange for our child to be buried for free. We only had to pay $50 for the grave marker. He drove David and the other father to the cemetery and had a little service while they buried the babies.

We were lucky. Our pastor does not have the ability to make arrangements like this for every family. Had he not been friends with that parish's pastor or had he not already had the outing arranged with another family, we would have most likely have ended up needing to just purchase a plot and coffin. (I had previously called that same cemetery and they said they would charge us full price - $450 - for a child plot and we had to have a several hundred dollar full-sized infant coffin.) Unfortunately, most families in our area have no resources to help them bury their babies. There are some organizations I'm aware of that help bury stillborn babies (lost after 20 weeks gestation) but none that I'm aware of that help miscarried babies. If you know of any, please let me know.

In all the articles and blog posts that I've read about how to help a couple after a miscarriage, I don't think I've ever seen the suggestion to help the couple bury their child but in some situations, this is a real need. Not every family is able to bury their miscarried babies for various reasons. Often, there are no remains or they are not given access to the remains after a D&C, etc. But some parents do have the remains and want to bury their babies but are unable to because they lack the funds or need help arranging it. It can be an extremely difficult time emotionally after a miscarriage which would only add to the stress and confusion of planning a burial.

As Christians, we are urged to "bury the dead" as one of the corporal work of mercy. If you know someone who has lost a baby and has the child's remains, you can offer to:

• Help them to arrange a burial (and service or funeral if wanted). Make phone calls. Sit with them as they make decisions.
• Give financial support if you can. Sometimes even if the family can pay for a plot or receives one for free, they may not be able to afford a grave marker, so the grave sits unmarked for years.
• Share any knowledge you have of the process. Even if you've never lost a baby, if you've lost another family member and had to arrange burial, your experiences could be very helpful.  
• Share contact information to local organizations that can help. If you are so called, perhaps you could start some kind of organization within your community or church that helps families with the arrangements.

If you've buried am unborn child, what were your experiences? Do you know if there are local organizations or resources in your area? Or any national ones? How did others help you with the process or how do you wish they would have helped?

Our Francis

One year ago today was our Francis Michael's due date. Which means had our baby lived, we'd be celebrating a first birthday around now. I'm so far removed from that alternate reality that I can't really imagine what it would be like having a one year old crawling (or walking!) around. I can't imagine where I crib would fit in our little home or what it would be like to have another car seat in our car. I can't begin to see how Francis would have fit into our lives, yet it's easy to feel that there is someone missing.

Of all the children we've lost, I always miss Francis the most. It's not that we love that baby any more than the others, just that we bonded with him or her so much more. Between my positive pregnancy test and miscarriage, we had six weeks of dreaming and preparing for our baby. That time was never tainted with a fear of loss, so we were able to love our baby with abandon. And those six weeks came after a year of desperately wanting another child, even before we were able to try to conceive again, a year of dreaming and preparing in itself.

After Francis, we were much more cautious with our pregnancies, much more reserved. And we never got much time with them, no more than two weeks between a positive pregnancy test and an ultrasound showing that miscarriage was likely. We never had the time to allow ourselves to imagine our baby outside of the womb, as part of our living family.  Even now, at 14 weeks pregnant, I can't visualize what it will be like to have a baby in November, even if I give myself the permission to try. But during my pregnancy with Francis, I could visualize that sweet baby in my arms - that tiny little nose, big blue eyes, kissable lips, and chubby, chubby thighs. 

Today, David has to work, but we're hoping to spend tomorrow exactly like we did last year - a trip to the cemetery and then to the beach. (Please pray that the storm that is supposed to hit this weekend disperses! It means so much to use that we're able to carry out this family tradition.) Only a few weeks away from our move, this will be the last time we'll see our baby's grave and the last time we carry out this family tradition. We usually only visit Francis Michael's grave twice a year (close to the due date and miscarriage date) but the thought of leaving it is unbearable. We didn't bury any of our other children (none of them ever developed bodies, just empty sacs) so in many ways, this one grave represents them all. I know their souls aren't there but I still feel like a mother abandoning her children.

My sweet Francis Michael, know that you are loved and so very missed.  What I wouldn't have given to have held you in my arms for just a moment, to have known what you looked like.

Past posts I've written about Francis:

This is not the post it was supposed to be.

Remembering My Pregnancy

Our Pregnancy Loss Story

How we named Francis (and our other babies)



Here are pictures from our trip to the cemetery and beach to celebrate Francis last year:

Naming a Miscarried Baby

It's a fairly common practice for parents to name the children they've lost to miscarriage. It's certainly a matter of personal preference (please do not feel that you aren't properly honoring your child or grieving appropriately if you decide not to name your child) but for many parents, it helps them connect with and find closure after the loss of their child. In many families, especially the Catholic families I'm familiar with, miscarried children are talked about often, prayed for (and to, since we have reason to believe that they are in heaven and therefore can watch out and pray for us), and it's easier to do these things if the children have names. I previously wrote about how we chose a name for our daughter and for the first two children we lost and I've decided to share an update of that post with the names of the last two children I miscarried.

I've always been a bit of a name junky (I'm currently addicted to the Catholic naming blog Sancta Nomina) so the process of choosing our children's names is one that is done with a lot of thought, prayer, and love. It meant so much to me that even though we lost four of our children so very young and will never get to experience the typical parenting moments with them as we will with our living child, I was still able to give them their names. It is one of the only ways that I've been able to truly mother those babies.

Lucia Rose, born December 2011

Since we didn't find out whether Lucia was a boy or girl, we had to have two names at the ready.  The boy's name was picked out before we were even pregnant (and in some ways before I even met my husband).  The girl's name was much harder to nail down since it seemed David and I had opposite taste in names.  (We have since resolved our differences and have 3-4 girls names already picked out, in order, for future daughters.) My main choice for name inspiration was a book of women Saints that I owned.  I would thumb through the pages looking for names that I liked and only read the corresponding story if I felt the name was "in the running".  There were several names that were clearly not going to happen, like Hedwig and Hildegarde, but anything I half liked I ran by David and 99% he turned down on the spot.  Very early on, two front runners emerged: Alena and Lucia.  Alena was actually the favorite for quite some time and I can't remember why we decided on Lucia instead, but we did so somewhere between 20 and 30 weeks.  Lucia's name is equally in honor of St. Lucy and Sr. Lucia of Fatima as my husband has a great devotion to Our Lady of Fatima.  Her middle name, Rose, was decided from the very beginning.  It is my middle name and a dear aunt's middle name in honor of my great grandmother, Rosa. 

Francis Michael, miscarried October 2013

After my miscarriage in October 2013, several people urged us to name the baby.  It took a week or so before we felt comfortable with doing so.  Naming a miscarried child seemed so different than naming a living one.  We had names picked out for our next child before this one was even conceived, but it didn't feel right to use either one of them.  I know many parents feel comfortable giving the child a gender specific name based on their gut instincts, but I didn't have any feelings about the baby's gender and was wrong with my gut instinct that Lucia was a boy, so we decided to choose a gender neutral name.  Searching "gender neutral Saint names" doesn't come up with many results, but I immediately found one that I loved: Francis.  Although more commonly associated with boys, Frances is a common enough girl's name and St. Frances Cabrini is one of my favorite Saints.  The biggest decision we had to make was which spelling to use.  While researching the name, I found a source that said that until the last few centuries, both spellings were used interchangeably for boys and girls, so we simply went with the one that was most aesthetically appealing to me.  We chose the middle name Michael after the Archangel.  When I think of this baby, I think of the baby being either "my Frank or Frannie" and joyfully look forward to the day when I find out which nickname fits.

Julian Gabriel, miscarried February 2014

This may sound a bit strange, but I already chosen a name for our second miscarried child before I was even pregnant with him/her.  It was a gender neutral name that would only be used for another lost baby.  Not that I necessarily expected to miscarry again (and I truly did not think I would miscarry twice in a row) but it was a name that I came across when I was looking for a name for Francis and tucked away as another favorite.  It feels a bit odd to give a child a specific name because he/she passed before birth while we would have given that same child a different name had he/she been born.  But at the same time, we feel blessed to be able to do the only thing we can do to parent this child other than conception: name him/her.  We chose the name Julian Gabriel.  Julian, while usually considered masculine, is the name of many Catholic Saints, and the female Julian of Norwich (who though not canonized is often revered as a Saint).  Gabriel, like the middle name we chose for Francis, is in honor of the Archangel.

Adrienne Rafael, miscarried October 2014
Like with Julian, I also had some ideas in mind of names to use if I miscarried again before I even knew this little one existed. I suppose after two miscarriages and one live birth, it starts to feel like a loss is more likely (statistically, it's not). Our third miscarriage was a very early "chemical pregnancy" so we weren't sure I was even pregnant until I no longer was. We debated a little bit about whether we would name the baby or whether we would even count it as a pregnancy/loss but ultimately decided that our belief that life starts at conception meant we wouldn't treat this child any different than we did the babies we lost later on. I started to feel like we were running out of blatantly Catholic, gender neutral names, but I had a short list left and Adrian was on it. Since Francis and Julian are more masculine in appearance, we decided on the feminine spelling Adrienne. Again, Rafael is for the Archangel and we chose that spelling because I love the Spanish language and prefer the pronunciation (rah-fiy-EHL) that is similar to the Spanish.

Christian Michael, miscarried December 2014
After we lost our last baby, I had a hard time coming up with any name ideas. There are some more available that fit the Saint/biblical and gender neutral categories (see below) but I couldn't seem to find one that fit for our baby. I don't know why I initially thought of Christian, but once I did, it just seemed right. Although usually a boy's name, I worked with a girl named Christian in college so it has a very gender neutral feel to me. We were short-sighted (or maybe it was just wishful thinking) when we decided to use the names of the Archangels as middle names for our miscarried babies since there are only three named Archangels. It didn't feel right to break with the tradition, so we decided to cycle back through and used Michael again.




A few of the ideas that we didn't use (yet) but might be helpful for couples searching for gender neutral Catholic names: 

Jean - in English, it's a girl's name; in French, it's the male name John
Jordan - for the Jordan River
Valentine
Alex - for Alexander or Alexandra, or you could maybe even the full name Alexis - I'm familiar with it as a girl's name, but apparently it's a boy's name too
Hilary - for the male St. Hilary, though it's more often a female name now
Karol/Carol - for St. John Paul II whose name was Karol Wojtyla
Aaron/Erin/Aeron
Andy - for Andrew or Andrea - or even the full Andrea since it is a boy's name in other cultures, like singer Andrea Bocelli
Remy
Quinn - for Ven. Edel Quinn
Noel - means "Christmas" in French
Jude
Ariel - one of names for Jerusalem, probably most well known as The Little Mermaid, it can also be a boy's name like Israeli prime minister Ariel Sharon

For more ideas, see Kate's post at Sancta Nomina. If none of these names work for you, (affiliate link) The Catholic Baby Name Book may be another helpful resource. If you have any other ideas, please leave them in the comments and I'd be happy to add them to the list!