You are not alone

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These aren’t the pictures I thought I’d be posting. This isn’t the story I hoped I’d be telling. But here I am, sitting on the floor, staring at the wall, while my fingers type it. I don’t know just how to tell this story, but I want to start with the happy part, because that’s the part I never got to share.

I was feeling so tired, little off, and had a sneaking suspicion. We’d been trying and hoping, and talked about it every day, but there was nothing that could have prepared me for everything I felt when I saw that positive pregnancy test. Excited, terrified, in disbelief… joyful. Callum was out in the yard doing some work, and I happened to have a student arriving in a few minutes. That lesson was the longest 30 minutes of my life, waiting to tell Callum. You should have seen how he practically bounced off the walls of our kitchen. We were so unbelievably happy. Truthfully, pretty scared and overwhelmed, but oh so happy.

That day, we went out and bought a journal so that we could write notes to our baby along the way. This drive to the store was the funniest and sweetest experience for me. Callum was driving SO SLOW! He was slowing down for red lights like a block in advance, and I couldn’t stop laughing. I thanked him for his care but asked him to please speed up or he was going to drive me insane. 😉 It was so apparent even on that first day how caring and attentive he was going to be toward me and this little baby.

I don’t really intend to walk through the whole story of my miscarriage. Many of the details are too close to my heart, and honestly, I’m already crying. That day in the emergency department felt surreal, and I had never felt so sad in my life. Hearing the “I’m so sorry”, the “we wish we had good news”, the “we can’t find a heartbeat”. I had a surprisingly visible bump already, and realizing that we hadn’t yet taken a picture of me with it, I desperately wanted one. Holding that little bump in my hospital gown in the ER felt like one of the hardest things I’d ever done, but I know I’ll treasure that picture, even if I can’t look at it yet. The weeks that followed felt incredibly long, and ultimately, what I had dreaded and feared the most had to happen. The doctors and the surgeon were amazing, and made it feel as bearable as it could.

It’s been just over two months.

I realize that to some, this might seem strange to share in such a public way. But I’ve come to believe that there are many things we don’t talk about enough. One of them is miscarriage, and another is grief. The difficult thing about a failed pregnancy is the feeling that your entire life changed, that you lost your baby, but on the outside it appears as though nothing changed at all. You went through this physically traumatic and terribly sad experience, but you have nothing to show for it in the end. There is an inevitable tendency to feel like you have failed, like your body failed you. I felt every emotion throughout my grieving. This is why I believe it’s important to talk about – because it did happen, and just because things didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped, it’s still your story to share, as much or as little of as you’re comfortable.

Basically, the message I want to share is that it’s okay to feel sorrow, and to say that you are. Everything about it still hurts, and although I’ve come a long way, I’m comfortable enough to honestly say that it’s still hard. I don’t need to put up any front and pretend to be stronger than I am, and that feels good. Sometimes I’ll be asked about it and say “I’m doing great!” and mean it, and I really haven’t cried in a couple weeks. Other days, the fears, painfully precise memories, and doubts creep in and I cry on the bathroom floor. But I really believe that we need to support one another, and share the all the realities of life – good and bad – which is why I’ve chosen to share my story. The people who came to me and told me their stories of loss and miscarriage gave me hope. Our family members were an unbelievable support to us, and reminded me of how blessed we are. I don’t know how I could ever thank my parents for everything they did for us. Friends who literally sat and cried with me, and still check on me, have taught me what true friendship is.

I don’t feel like the same girl who walked into this, in many ways. And for that I am actually very grateful. We have been changed, and I know that this loss will only make us more grateful for when our time comes. I’ve often thought about whether I would change this, if I was in control. The real answer is that I don’t know. I firmly believe that this little spirit is a part of us, and will be a part of our forever family, and right now, that’s the biggest comfort to us.

Did I get what I wanted from this experience? Of course not. For one thing, I wanted to take pictures with little ultrasound photos, or baby things, with a baby still growing inside of me. Instead, I have pictures with a journal. But that journal is one of my most treasured possessions as it was one of the ways I connected with our baby, doing what I love to do – write. The things I have learned from this experience have been so numerous. I’ve learned to lean on my Saviour even more. I’ve learned more about my Heavenly Father’s love. I’ve learned that you don’t need a huge flock of friends, but just a few incredible ones. I’ve learned even more about the love my family has for me, and that I made the best choice in the world when it comes to a loving husband. I’ve learned that you can experience rainbows and storms at the same time in your life, and that it’s best to feel and embrace them both, because they have different things to teach you. I hope that I can take what I’ve learned, and be there for someone, and that my openness will help in some small way.

Xo