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A few days ago I sat in church as we had a baby dedication. The memories of my three miscarriages came flooding back, and for the rest of service I was fighting back tears. I never thought that it would happen to me, but it has and these miscarriages are apart of who I am now, and apart of my story.
Listen, women in my family are FERTILE. I mean all their husbands have to do is look at them the right way and they end up pregnant. So naturally when I wanted to have kids I just assumed this would ring true for me as well…right?
HA, but seriously, HA HA
That’s me laughing at my past ignorance.
We’d had no problem getting pregnant with our first two kids, but something went wrong with round three.
Me and my husband decided to try for our third kid back in April of 2017. When I didn’t get pregnant the first month I just told myself it was fine, it’s just one month. People don’t always get pregnant on their first go round. A month later, I miscarried for the first time.
I was floored.
Four months later in September, I’d miscarry again.
At that point I was beginning to feel hopeless, but I was still trying my best to stay positive because maybe third times a charm right?
It had been almost eight months since we had first started trying. A few days before Christmas I was late and thought I might be pregnant. I was so excited, but also fearful and not wanting to get my hopes up. I didn’t want what had happened twice to happen a third time. So, I went out and bought a home pregnancy test. I went home. I took it. It was positive. I was overwhelmed with excitement, but also behind that I was nervous to let myself get excited. I went to Hobby Lobby and bought my husband a sign that read ‘For this child I have prayed” and then taped the pee stick to it. He opened it Christmas Day. We were so emotional. We were thanking God that it had finally happened.
Two days after Christmas I woke up around 6:30a.m. with severe cramping and bleeding. I couldn’t believe it, it was happening again and I was devastated.
So to say my emotions over the past 9 months have been a roller coaster is an understatement. The first miscarriage sent me into depression. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t sleeping, and I definitely wasn’t the best mom I could be to the two kids I already have. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the sucky wife I had become.My husband had to pick up some major slack for me all while grieving himself. I was basically a shell.
The second miscarriage brought a numbness. Some people might have even mistaken it for strength. I didn’t cry as much and it didn’t hurt as much when I saw babies on social media. I was still able to do life like normal. I didn’t have many emotions at all to be honest.
But the third…this one stings in a different way. I remember sitting on the toilet bleeding that morning all alone while my husband and kids slept. I was crying and all I could muster was “…no God please, please no…”over and over again. I was begging God to please not take another from me. I got cleaned up and laid back in bed without waking my husband, quietly crying and asking Him “Why?” and hoping against hope that the baby was still there and okay. Later that day at the Dr. it would be confirmed another miscarriage.
I never knew I could love and miss something I never physically held. The pain is real, and I never fully understood what a woman was going through with a miscarriage until I went through it myself.
I felt hopeless. The thoughts of will I ever be able to have another one that physically comes from me again, float around my mind constantly. When I see others announcing pregnancies or births, it hurts…A LOT. I’m so tired of crying and having an ache in my heart when I see a newborn. The hurt comes and goes and it catches me off guard. I will think I am doing ok and handling it well, and then something happens, like a baby dedication at church. My heart ached seeing those moms hold their new babies in their arms looking so happy. Why can’t I have that right now? I’m happy for all the new moms and moms to be, but honestly, it just reminds me of what I want and what I can’t have right now.
Until I’d had a miscarriage, I lived in a naive state of thinking that it’s rare and hardly happens. But once I’d gone through it and done a little reading, I was amazed to find out how often it happens. It’s actually quite common and sometimes women will have one and not even know they were pregnant.
I’ll say knowing that there are others that know and understand my grief is a little comforting. I love that women are allowed to be more open about their miscarriages these days. It is so good for us to be able to share with someone what we are dealing with and have them validate that it is ok to grieve this little life that we never physically held. Talking with others helps, but it still hurts. And even if I don’t ever have another physically from me, it doesn’t make other options any less epic or amazing. But it still stings knowing the hopes and dreams of what you wanted and what could have been are no longer there.