There I was, sitting alone in the ER waiting room. Only one there. Snow falling outside. Peacefully. But my heart was heavy. My eyes ready to burst with tears. A new baby my heart had been hoping and praying for, now may already be gone. A couple of hours later, it was confirmed I was in fact, miscarrying. I had found out earlier that week I was pregnant, although I kind of already knew the weekend before. I was so heartbroken, frustrated and angry. I thought I was actually catching a break, for once.
When you are trying for a baby...or have experienced pregnancy or infant loss...every pregnancy announcement is a little hard to take. Its exhausting constantly being happy for everyone else, while trying to stay positive, patient, and hopeful for yourself. So, when you get a positive pregnancy test (or five!) right before and on Christmas...it almost seemed to good to be true. After a whole year of trying, after a full-term loss; I didn’t know if I’d ever be holding a positive test again. Then, there I was, on Christmas, with a handful of positive tests, and a new baby to love.
Within a few days, I woke up to a gush of blood...and I knew it wasn’t good. My only experience with first trimester bleeding ended in a miscarriage. So, I went into the ER (it was a weekend) and they checked me out. I knew right when the doctor started talking that he was trying to give me the facts, but in a compassionate way. Yes, I was pregnant, but my levels were lower than usual (something I have heard before) and nothing on the ultrasound indicated an active pregnancy.
I‘d have to repeat some labs the following week to make sure my pregnancy levels were dropping and that I didn’t have an ectopic pregnancy.
Yes, miscarriages are common. Yes, it was early. Yes, I was able to get pregnant. But yes, I am still heartbroken, still defeated, still frustrated...and so emotionally exhausted. Five and a half years of trying for babies and I have now had four pregnancies, and thankfully have one living child. I have lost at 7+ weeks, 39+ weeks and now, 5+ weeks. I have had about 34 months of disappointments with negative tests & unwanted cycles. •••••••••••••••••••
I could have just kept this pregnancy to myself. Besides my husband and doctors, no one would have needed know. I was on break from school...it would have been very easy to hide. And thats exactly what most women do. It’s what I did the first time it happened. I was ashamed and didn’t even know how to talk about it with anyone. Some women never talk about it...some only years later, once they are past the “baby” stage of life. I think women should do whatever they are comfortable with. Just because they choose to keep it private, doesn’t mean it hurts any less for them. A loss is a loss. But a mom should never feel like she can’t talk about it, or feel ashamed. They did nothing wrong. Their baby died. Babies die. Its unfair and devastating, but it happens every day. Many moms also wait until it’s “safe” to announce their pregnancy...but, newsflash: there is no “safe” time to announce a pregnancy. There is also no “ok” time to lose a baby. “At least it was early,” is something you should never say to someone who has experienced early loss.
I can say from my personal experience, that my early losses were for sure very different from my full term loss. But so far, all of my losses have been devastating, heartbreaking, and life-changing, in their own ways.
Two years ago I found out I was pregnant with Marly and it was the absolute best way to start a new year. Now, I am starting another new year fresh off of another loss. I don’t write this for pity or to get a bunch of encouragement like “it will happen I just know it, or this is your year or just stay positive.” Those sorts of phrases just make me feel worse.
I write this because I want to express where I’m at right now. That I am frustrated, exhausted and sick of being patient. Sick of getting disappointment after disappointment. I am having a pity party. It won’t last forever, but it’s where I’m at right now.
Sure I could be pregnant again in a couple of months (unlikely) or I could be in the exact same place as I am right now, a year from now (likely). Nobody can predict the future. Nobody can tell me that “they know” this or that about my life or their own. We are 100% not in control. As hard as that is to accept (especially for me): its the truth. I also have to accept that I will never get “perfect timing,” because I don’t get to decide if/when I will bring another living child into this world. This pregnancy would have been perfect. And I knew it. It was too perfect. So, of course it didn’t last. For many people, we don’t have the luxury of timing out our families...planning when our kids’ birthday months will be. Knowing exactly how many children we are going to have. That is a luxury. Consider yourself very lucky if that has been your experience. No “trying,” no “losses.” No “patience” needed. I am extremely envious of you. To the point that its hard to be around you & your family. Hard to see pictures. I’ll never have a life like yours. My heart will never be whole.
But I will continue to fill it up as much as I can. I will continue to parent all of my children. All four of my children, now.
So, whether you have chose to keep your losses and/or struggles to yourself, or share them with those around you; know that you are not, and never have been alone in your pain. There have been countless mothers who have walked the path before and will walk it after you. It can be a long, dark path for some. And while some find their way through fairly quick...some of us wander in the dark for a long time.
If you choose to share your story, even with one person...you are helping light the way for others. It might be a small candle, or it might be a spotlight. Maybe you don’t want the whole world to know you have experienced loss or struggled (or are struggling) to bring a living child into the world. That is understandable.
I am, however, choosing to announce my pregnancy, as short as it was, because it was still a pregnancy and still a child I lost. And I remain hopeful for another. Hopeful for another living child.
