There is a hashtag going around on Instagram about the loss of a preganancy. #dontsay #dontsayit highlight the remarks that people hear after a miscarriage, that are said with good intentions, but cut like knives. It is so important that we continue to normalize such an event. It is not shameful and it needs to be more openly discussed. Parents of loss, we are not alone!
I still remember that time period vividly. I remember holding up that plastic stick and thinking “Ohmigosh! Are we ready? A baby! Ooooh a squishy soft beautiful baby!!!”
I certainly stumbled through telling my husband. Basically ran into the living room clutching the test, crying so hard he couldn’t understand me.
Then came that Monday. Going to work. Heading to the bathroom. And the blood. Oh all of the blood. The fear. The call to my husband. Fear, so much so that my throat wouldn’t work. Then the rush to the ER. Waiting. Exams. Blood draws. The sad look from the doctor. Those awful awful words:
“You are losing your baby.”
I spent the next few days alternating between sobbing at the bottom of the shower to sobbing in my husband’s arms. My body in agony as it contracted, expelling that “it wasn’t meant to be.” My grief so strong that I could feel it clawing it’s way out of my throat.
I felt as if I had failed.Failed myself, my husband, and my precious baby. Well meaning comments of, “Well you did just get married so maybe it’s for the best.” Or ” It obviously wasn’t meant to be then. ” became a horrid mantra that played on loop in my head.
You know what does?
A big, bone crunching hug.
Just being PRESENT.
Do you ever truly heal? No, we grow, we move on as best we can, but we will always carry that grief in our hearts.
Since then, I have been surprise blessed multiple times. Maybe in a way to help make up for that second baby, the one I never got to hold and the one I still cry for.