I cannot believe it’s been 2 months since I have touched this blog.
There have been many days where I have felt compelled to write out this story, days where I have thought about missing you guys and wanting to connect & share what has been going on, and then other days where I just want to be alone & disconnected from any positive post on the ‘book.
Friends… there’s a deeply personal issue I want to share today.
I feel compelled to write, as a confession, as a matter of healing, I am not exactly sure why… maybe someone else is longing to be understood, too.
The day after Father’s Day, we found out we were pregnant.
12 weeks in, we found out we lost the baby.
It’s a club I never, ever thought I would join.
I know what I should be saying to myself…
Miscarriage happens to many women, it can happen to any woman; I could not have done anything differently, I did everything right; we can always try again; at least we CAN get pregnant; miscarriage happens to embryos that aren’t developing properly.
I know all of this.
But that doesn’t change the thoughts I still have…
Did I not rest when I should have? Should I have not lifted that box? I missed a day of taking my vitamin! Did I heat up that turkey long enough?
Why as women do we take on blame & responsibility for things we realistically know are outside of our control? Why do we worry and consider these thoughts when we know circumstances already have a mapped out plan?
My husband and I weren’t trying to conceive, we weren’t not trying to conceive.
We’re adults. We know how babies are made.
I felt the pressure was on and I wanted to start our family sooner than later, mainly because of my age. My husband, hesitant.
My biggest fear is wanting kids that never come, wanting a large family that never grows.
I have had this idealistic family in my head since I was 12 years old.
You know, white picket fence, perfect jobs, perfect dog, perfect kids, happy husband. Okay maybe not exactly that, but I had a pretty dang vivid dream of what would make my life feel complete.
While the pregnancy was not exactly intentional, I will never forget the amazing, overpowering joy I felt when I got the phone call we were pregnant. It was like life made sense, the reason I am here on earth could finally occur, it felt like I was right where I belonged.
I have never felt such emotion in my life. < I just wish I had not been driving down the highway when it had occurred. Errr. >
It’s been 4 weeks since the kindest doctor on the planet told us the baby was gone.
It’s been 4 weeks since I was laying in an operating room, eyes closed, silently crying while the nurse held my left hand and the anesthesiologist held my right, trying to rid my mind of all thoughts of what the future had briefly looked like for us.
I am not going to lie.
The last month has been a challenge. Focusing on things that now seem insignificant is tough. It’s been some of the longest weeks of my life. And while I took this journey with my husband, I still feel alone, hollow.
So I pray… and I question…
Am I aiming for things that I want and not things that God wants me to have, to be doing, to be putting my energy into? What if a family is not what God has in store for me? What am I supposed to be learning by losing such a precious thing?
Are these evil thoughts running through my head or is it a reality I should accept as a possibility?
By telling this story, I am not looking for sympathy. I am writing because I want other women to know that they aren’t alone in this journey and to know it’s not silly to be grieving for someone you have never met. Your husband, best friend, parent, boss may not understand, but I surely do. And it’s absolutely okay to still be grieving, no matter how long ago you lost your unborn baby.
I appreciate all the women that privately confessed their own personal pain & experiences with me. Your simple emails & notes, tight hugs and simple touches to my shoulder were monumentally supportive. Thank you <3