I’ve been asking around and talking with friends about starting one of these mom blogs for a while now. Depending on who you talk to some of my closest friends might even say its been years. The whole thing has been overwhelming and quite frankly terrifying to me so I have always put it off. . . thought to myself, I”ll add it to my to do list for next week.”
Until today.
Today is the day that I get over the fear of failure, because I have a greater fear than being another mom blog fail. A fear that someone out there is going through loss on their own, feeling like no one gets it. No one understands. Maybe it’s you, reading this right now. Maybe it’s the mom you saw at drop off today. The lady you saw at Target. Maybe your friend. Unfortunately so many women know the pain of this loss.
The first baby we lost was hard. My whole life all I ever wanted to be was a Mama. I didn’t even call my OB at first because I had heard the stories, and what could they do anyway with it being so early on. I remember looking at my husband with tears in my eyes and saying I thought I was losing the baby. I hadn’t even told my own Mama yet. In case somehow we were still pregnant I was told to come in for an appointment. After confirming that it was a loss we were told, “Good news. . . at least you know you can get pregnant. You’re welcome to try again right away.”
Let’s just get something straight. Being able to get pregnant and and lose the baby isn’t good news. . . at least not from where I was sitting, in a gown, bleeding and cramping. How about we stop trying to downplay someones loss. We just let it be what it is.
I immediately conceived that next cycle. I remember when the spotting began I crawled onto the floor of my shower sobbing because I was sure I was losing this baby too. My husband came into the bathroom and sat on the floor with our iPad reading about pregnancy, and how protected the baby was, and that spotting could be normal during some pregnancies. After going to the doctor they informed us everything was just as it was supposed to be and the baby was fine. That August we welcomed our baby girl, Grace.
Fast forward about 6 months or so down the road and we were pregnant again. Same as last time I spotted throughout most of my pregnancy and it was terrifying. Luckily for us it was not another loss. We welcomed Nora into our family at the end of the year.
I know what you’re thinking. . . ok so you had one loss and then you were able to carry two healthy girls just fine. The End.
But its not the end. We wanted one more baby. A lot of people might not get this (and that’s ok) but our family just didn’t feel complete. So when I saw those two pink lines on the stick I couldn’t help but imagine our entire lives as a family of 5. What the holidays would now be like. How we would figure out three car seats in my current car. We’d finally have to move like we had been talking about. What my girls would think of their newest sibling. How would I handle being a mom to three babies… as I type this someone hangs on my leg needing something from me while the other is off into some type of mischief. So when I started bleeding and realized I was losing this baby I was devastated….how, how was I losing another baby? I mean, I had these two precious girls. I had a loss already. I didn’t even think it was an option. I was so naively confident that that was all behind me.
This loss felt so much bigger than the loss I had already experienced. I am not sure if maybe the one from a few years prior had just faded or if this one was different because I didn’t remember sitting on the ground sobbing for days on end, week after week. I would look at my girls and feel it like a huge wave. Guilt. Guilt that I was failing them as a Mama by being completely useless, by laying around and crying so much in front of them…unable to get out to the park, go to a play date, or even take them on a walk. Guilt that this loss was so crushing when I had two kids already (since I am touching on this guilt let’s all understand it isn’t necessary or appropriate to make a Mama feel like she isn’t allowed pain from not being able to have more children. Pain is pain. Instead of comparing it how about we just support it.) Guilt that for some reason I was so into this pregnancy that I wasn’t even thinking of how I hadn’t made it through that first trimester into the “safe” zone. Then I would look at them, my two babies, and feel happiness. Grateful for their existence in so many ways, and how in their sweet little innocence, they were able to give me the love and comfort I needed. Being able to hold and snuggle and think of all the wonderful times and memories we had because of these two sweet babies. . . but then that reminded me of what I was missing. It was bittersweet knowing what wouldn’t be and what was. Now this time I KNEW just exactly what I was missing out on. Maybe that’s the difference I felt, loosing a pregnancy after having my girls. I knew the joy of having a baby, of holding them for the first time, watching them grow and change. I knew what I was missing.
Not too long after we were pregnant again and instantly lost another baby. This loss was quick. Almost like it didn’t happen. . . but it did. It hurt and it made me confused. . . what was happening?
A while later we found out we were pregnant again. This time I told myself I was prepared. I was going to try and keep any dreams, hopes, nursery thoughts, future family plans at bay as much as possible…but a few times I slipped and I imagined Christmas morning with our brand new baby, Nora finally getting that little brother or sister she wanted, being due on the same day as one of my girlfriends. . . sometimes you let yourself dream about the baby, hoping that this one will stick. . .
When the painful cramping started I panicked. I had been waiting for it. . . I spoke with the on call OB and explained everything going on as well as my past and after we spoke at length (super appropriate for in the middle of home depot, but hey. . . real life) we agreed, if only for answers and my sanity, that I should schedule an appointment and go in. I remember my heart pounding as they started the ultrasound. My body was shaking, full of emotions too big to be contained. Then that sweet sweet baby appeared, heart beating and all. Queue the insane silent, holding your breath sobbing. The kind doctor thought I was confused and started to reassure me the baby was good. . . then I heard it. That amazing, strong and steady heartbeat. I asked her if she could just let it be for a minute so I could listen. I left that appointment feeling better. Between that ultrasound and my blood work, everything was perfect and on track. . . until it wasn’t.
I was on the phone as I pulled into my driveway a while past that day and I had just told my friend. It was a quick happy tearful. . .”love you, bye” and I went in to drop my purse on the counter and head to the bathroom. My husband had just been called into work so he left as I arrived. I told him I would check in later because my bladder was going to burst. I was still in the habit of looking when I wiped – as my girlfriend calls it, “the over wipers club” and there was blood. Again and again, and a lot. . . I knew it wasn’t good. I called my husband sobbing and when I could finally talk clear enough for him to understand I told him our baby was gone. I knew it. He was hopeful. So sweetly hopeful. I knew you didn’t pass clots like I was and still have a healthy baby, heart beating inside.
I’ll save you the terrible ER visit and appointments that followed this horrendous night because this was by far my most painful and worst physical loss.
So here we stand. Two wonderful, beautiful children that we have been blessed with and a lot of heartache for those babies we’ll never get to hold.
1 in 4 women miscarry. Think about that the next time you’re surrounded by a group of women. Think about that the next time you question someone one why they don’t have any kids. Think about it when you’re probing into why they aren’t having more kids.
For some strange and dumb reason talking about miscarriage is taboo. Unspoken. Best to remain private. We are even encouraged not to tell anyone for up to 13 weeks into our pregnancy, because “you might lose it and then what. I’ll tell you what….you sit there, imagining this little life growing inside you. You cut back on the caffeine you want so bad. You skip a girls night out for drinks making some lame excuse, and you try to hide the terrible morning sickness you’ve been dealing with. Push through the exhaustion. Avoid sitting next to that one coworker with the bad breath. You do all this and then sometimes you lose that baby. Now what? Now you have to try and pretend like everything is ok. You can’t talk about it because you didn’t tell anyone. You can’t lean on people for support because no one knows. Maybe you try telling a few people….its an awkward and exhausting conversation to have. Peoples reactions to the I was pregnant and now I’m not conversation can be odd, rude and hurtful. The rest of the world just keeps on going and you have to try and keep up.
I am here to say you don’t have to be quite about it. Some one around you has been there and can relate. Some one around you is suffering in silence, maybe even the person right next to you. I wrote a post that vaguely touched on miscarriage a while back as I had just lost my last baby days before a due date would come and go without a baby that I had been pregnant with. I received so many messages and comments from all kinds of women who resonated with my pain and while all our stories were different it was comforting to be able to have a safe place to just be real and honest with those that get it.
That safe place exists here. If you ever needs someone to talk to. To share fears with. To share that pain with. Always know you have a place with me <3
Thank you for taking time to read our story that we try to have faith is far from over.
Xx
Shan