When our son was six months old, we decided it was time for a sibling. Eight long months later, we were ecstatic to learn that dream was going to come true. Unfortunately that excitement was short lived as I had an episode of bleeding a week later that eventually resulted in a miscarriage. The whole experienced was filled with false hope from doctors and family, a lot of visits to the doctor for blood draws and ultrasounds and an abundance of thoughts and emotions.
After waiting to see what direction the pregnancy was headed the day finally came where I knew it was the beginning of the end. I broke down. I cried because I would never feel that baby kick, I would never know if we had another son or would get to experience our first daughter, I would never see what he/she looked like, I would never get to hold him/her and I cried because I felt like my body failed at what it was supposed to do and had already done successfully. Once I healed physically, I had to heal emotionally and that was harder than physical loss. Everywhere I went I saw pregnant moms and moms with new babies. I hated that people at the grocery store interacted with me normally because I knew what I just went through and didn’t feel normal. I hated packing up all the baby stuff I was organizing. I hated the pregnancy milestones I reached with no baby reaching them with me. I hated to see people announcing their pregnancies and babies. I hated that no one knew about our baby so its brief life didn’t feel validated. I would feel my new normal one day and cry all day the next. I was so afraid of starting over with trying to get pregnant again. It took us 8 months to conceive this baby and I didn’t want to have to wait that long again.
My best therapy ended up being my son. I held him longer when he fell asleep in my arms as I rocked him at nap and bedtime and I kept us busy so I didn’t sit at home dwelling on what I no longer had. It was also helpful to cry. It’s okay to cry. It’s healthy to cry. The loss of a baby is something to mourn so take the time to do so. You won’t feel “normal” in a day. Healing takes time. The other piece that helped me heal was to finally talk about it so I got it off my chest and didn’t feel like I was going through it alone. I needed people to know why I wasn’t myself and didn’t want to do things I normally did.
Miscarriage seems to be such a taboo topic in today’s society. Maybe because it makes people uncomfortable and they don’t know what to say or maybe because people feel like it is a private matter. I don’t know, but once I got over the fear of possibly talking about something I “shouldn’t”, I was surprised to find out it’s unfortunately far too common. I had so many friends and family members who had experienced at least one. It was encouraging to know I wasn’t alone and it was beneficial to my emotional health to be able to talk about what I went through and was feeling without having to justify anything.
Today, I have my rainbow baby, Camden, who I wouldn’t have if I didn’t go through my loss. I can’t imagine life without him, or a different baby for that matter, and am so thankful for his little life. I will always wonder about the baby we lost, but the wound has healed and I am able to enjoy my life, my children, and plan for the future. There will be an end to the storm, and you will surprise yourself at how strong you come out of it.