Last night I had nests of used tissues dotted around our house. I didn’t think I could cry that much. Today I am numb, though the tears spill back out as I recall flashbacks of yesterday afternoon.
Miscarriage and loss of a yet to be born baby have hit close to home, but never in our home. Not until now. I have grieved along side and for those I love, but never quite felt this sorrow from my own depths. I write now to give voice for myself – maybe it’s a way to cope so that I stop narrating the story over and over in my mind – but also to tell others who have lost that you aren’t alone, you aren’t forgotten, and my goodness you are so BRAVE.
Whether you saw two pink lines that over the first week faded down to one with each new test, or had an awful trip to the hospital after symptoms showed the pregnancy not being quite right, or that further down the road tests proved that your littlest one deep in your womb just wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way. To you I say you are strong. You are loved. And again, you are BRAVE. Because this heartache that I feel, and that you have felt, proves that you can overcome so much.
In my case, we had begun sharing the joy of Baby H-G3 was on their way. I was busting out of jeans, feeling awful, but encouraged by that sickness and struggle. That meant it was working okay. That baby was growing. That things were progressing. We had just surpassed the typical safe-point of twelve weeks, but a few days later at the official 12-week visit, there was no heart tone to be found. An ultrasound showed that the baby had stopped growing around 7 weeks, although my uterus had continued to expand as otherwise expected.
I have had mixed emotions – sadness, anger, shock… And at times it still doesn’t seem real. One of my strongest emotions has been of foolishness. How could I not have known? For five weeks I had been fooled. Fooled into thinking everything was fine, that I was safe to share, that Baby H-G3 was right on schedule to arrive this summer.
But then there are moments I am comforted. I have seen a number of strong and brave women surpass this struggle. This is my time to share in that grief, to mourn a great loss, but to also know that it wasn’t meant to be.
I’m finding my theme song of sorts for this difficult season in life is Be Brave by My Brightest Diamond. The lyric quoted at the top is kind of a mantra for me of being brave, that this will change me, and I won’t be undone fully. I’m allowed to be undone sometimes, to not have it all together, but I will still be brave.
I must say thank you to the gracious and loving staff that told Brad and me the tough news with such care and love. And to the friends and family that surrounded us in prayers and encouraging words and showed us that God’s people are a loving people. Thank you.
For my pregnant friends and those on the verge of trying, I must say this: I am over-joyed for you. Though we have lost this baby, I want you to know that I categorize these things differently in my heart. This baby we have lost is something to be mourned, but your baby, your pregnancy, your joy is something to be celebrated. I found the absolute best distraction in this tough time was watching Quincy and Eloise play, because they are true miracles. And even this third baby is, too. I still got to hold onto it within me for a short while. I talked to it, sang to it, imagined life with their presence. I am grieving today, but I know I am blessed for the time with my children and our unborn child we never met.
I’m not certain I’ll continue to write about this loss in the future, and if you see me around town please see me as trying to be strong and not weak. We still have a long emotional journey to make, especially as the physical loss is only in the beginning stages. Time will heal a lot, but prayers are always appreciated. I thank you for lending an eye to read this post, and so appreciate the love so many have already shown us in this time of sorrow.
With heavy hearts but strong in our faith,