Or…The Post I Always Hoped I Never Had to Write.
It’s happened again and there’s no other way to say it.
We have another baby in the stars.
I can’t even bring myself to say “we lost our baby” because our baby is not lost. We didn’t misplace the baby. Or forget to bring the baby along. We did everything in our power to keep this baby, to help this baby grow healthy and strong. It wasn’t enough.
The hurt is so deep now. It feels a part of my bones.
I have spent the past six weeks in a state of stress and anxiety. Blood draws and ultrasounds and supplements and acupuncture. Multiple appointments every week. None of it was enough.
Suffering through terrible nausea, anemic exhaustion and sore breasts I became this Pessimistic Worrier, someone my normally-optimistic-self detests. But it felt so wrong, so incredibly selfish, to not be thankful and happy to be pregnant again after losing Miles.
I wrote a million times to myself about how scared I was. How nothing felt right. I didn’t feel connected like I did with Miles. Maybe my intuition knew something I didn’t.
There are only so many ways to describe pregnancy after loss. The best words I can use to describe the past six weeks: Living in fear of losing your baby and your self 24/7.
I told myself if I got to 14 weeks, I’d feel better.
We booked a trip to Disney for when I would have been about 18 weeks. I told myself how great it would be to be in my second trimester at the happiest place on Earth.
I bought tiny little Detroit Lions onesies because this baby would be born during football season.
I bought maternity clothes and a rainbow woven wrap for my rainbow baby because I refused to believe that I would lose another baby. I was due my rainbow. Our family would finally be complete.
But here I find myself again. Grief stricken. Feeling betrayed by my own body. And feeling so incredibly lonely.
It’s not that I’m alone. But it feels that way sometimes. Especially at night. When sleep doesn’t come but the tears do.
But being pregnant, you’re always with someone. Their little soul sits with you, keeping you company, whispering hopes and dreams, filling you with the future. And now there is only silence.
It’s so incredibly lonely.
My body did this. It didn’t do what it was supposed to do. It was supposed to be growing a baby. Nuturing and protecting and loving. It failed. And I am so very very angry with my body.
And though the physical pain of suffering this miscarriage is real, the emotional pain of it is so much harder. Maybe I didn’t have enough time to heal from Miles, physically or emotionally.
Maybe both losses together is just too much to bear this time. And for that I have to ask for something I hate to ask for…
Help me remember that I’m not alone. Help me get out of the house when I’m physically better. Help me know it’s ok to cry, but not all the time. Help me remember to eat, not just junk, and to drink water, not just drinks. Help me continue to help others with the groups I volunteer with. Help me remember my body is not my enemy. Help me remember how much I have to be thankful for.
Above all help me remember it’s going to be ok. That one day I won’t feel like every day is just full of sadness. And help to remind me that one day my family will be complete.
Many have helped already. And I know I won’t survive this without Michael, my little girls, my Mom and definitely my sisters.
Leslie, despite being pregnant and not always feeling great herself, never ceases to amaze me with how well she takes care of me.
Lucy practically put together my entire vision for Izzie’s birthday party when I just couldn’t do it all.
Angelica brings me things and hugs me, even when I don’t ask, because she knows I won’t ask and she doesn’t care cause she knows what I need. She’s the best neighbor EVER.
Maha too. Who doesn’t ask either (notice a theme here) but just shows up because she is the kind of friend who just shows up when you need her.
Laura, whose hugs and laughter could warm even the most downtrodden heart.
Robyn, who talked me through some pretty shitty moments on Friday. Who would be here if she could, but still takes good care of me from across the country.
Monica who commiserates with me and knows the way to my heart is through Neil Gaiman books (she seriously gets me so much).
Jen who has been my sister in this terribly pregnancy loss sisterhood and who is always there when I need to chat.
Tara who offered me so much hope and who I continue to pray for and hope that she gets her rainbow.
Klisti and Nicole for showing up with food because that’s what our Tribe does for each other.
And my wonderful amazing sisters who have been through this with me from the very first seconds and whose love and prayers will be with me long after everyone else forgets, Jessi, Meghan, Ashley, Nicole G, Nicole H and Kristy.
My family and my friends are everything to me. More precious then gold. And they have proven their priceless value again and again. I can’t do life without them.
With Baby Boo leaving us, I now have four babies in the stars, and two Earth-side. That is so incredibly sad to me.
Glad the ones that are with me are so incredibly awesome. Cedella and Isora are the reason I want to have another child. They’re that good.
It occurred to me yesterday how many people have children who they don’t want, they don’t mean to have, that they can’t take care of. How many children are just unwanted and unloved. And here we have all of these babies that were wanted and loved and didn’t make it. How incredibly unfair and unjust is that? That’s what I’m wrestling with now. How to justify why this keeps happening to me, to us, to our family. Why us?
And to top it all off, this Saturday marks our 6th wedding anniversary. A day we should be so celebratory and proud of how far we’ve come as a couple, as partners, as co-parents, and here we have nothing but grief and sadness in our hearts.
So here I am, once again asking for grace and prayers and love. And I humbly thank each and every one of you that has sent and will send their love and thoughts to me.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for being here. Thank you for remembering my sweet angel babies.