Today is national pregnancy loss awareness day. I went back and forth for months about whether not to blog on this topic. But blogging is apparently part of my healing process so here I go. This blog post is not a happy-go-lucky how I “got over it.” I’m not giving, nor quite frankly, receiving advice. I wrote this blog post the days after my second miscarriage, in deepest anger and despair. However, since then I have suffered a third miscarriage.
I am part of the 1% of women who have had 3 back-to-back miscarriages without a single healthy pregnancy.
2019 was so incredibly hard for us personally. We were so excited and nervous with the news this past May that we were expecting a baby and then I was brought so low when I lost the baby in June. I couldn’t get off the floor sobbing, screaming and asking “Why!” I felt trapped. We hadn’t told anyone besides our priest and now I felt I had no one to talk to. I was desperate for answers, I wanted a direction. The internet was no help; every article I devoured said it was “normal,” things like this “happen” for no reason. About 10-15% of known pregnancies end in miscarriage and it doesn’t change your chances of having a healthy pregnancy afterwards.
I knew the numbers, the statistics, the science behind it but I couldn’t let it go. I sat there running through every decision I had made, every fault, every thought. Desperately looking for something I could do to improve; I wanted something to fix.
Months later I had not “gotten over it.”
And then we got pregnant again this September. We knew it before I took the test. I was so excited! The baby was due at the end of May, perfect for this family of teachers. I was over the moon; googling and researching and reading everything I could.
And then week 6 came.
I felt it, I saw the blood. But I was determined that it couldn’t be. I had read the articles! A second miscarriage is so rare, this can’t be happening. It must be just one of the “normal” things that happen in early pregnancy. We even went to the ER for tests: blood tests, urine tests, ultrasounds, pelvic tests. Inconclusive.
I was told to rest and wait.
Of course, as life goes, Will also got the flu at the same exact time. We were just trying to survive through the weekend; all three of us.
Saturday afternoon, Will brings me lunch in bed and then it happened. The baby left my body as I sobbed, screamed, and fell onto my knees. NOOOOOO GOD. PLEASE GOD. PLEASE NOT THIS TIME.
But just like that, my second baby was gone.
This time I was not only depressed and mourning, still grieving over the first baby, but now I was angry, so angry at God. So angry at my body. So jealous of all those people who have babies they didn’t want.
I’m still angry. I’m still grieving. But I’m trying to love. I’m trying to love my family of two, my husband who is by my side “in sickness and in health.” I’m trying to love the immense blessings we have and not dwell on my sufferings. I’m trying to love my body for the gifts it has given me.
The Old Testament readings the Sunday after our second loss feels like it was hand-tailored for us in that moment:
The vision still has its time,
presses onto fulfillment, and will not disappoint;
if it delays, wait for it,
it will surely come, it will not be late.
— Habakkuk 2:3
JMF
P.S. This blog post comes so late after our miscarriages because I just was not ready to share. I hope that secrecy changes in our culture soon; there should be no feelings of shame. We need to share our highs and our lows. This was not easy for me to write; I’m blasting out such a private part of our lives on here, things that some of my closest friends & family members did not know until this was published. But it’s been tugging at my heart. I hope to get some release.
P.P.S. If you are going through a miscarriage, know this: you are seen; you are heard; you are loved.
