It’s been almost 2 weeks since we lost our child. Unless you follow me on social media, you probably weren’t aware that I was pregnant at all. I actually had to delete our announcement post for the blog the same day we found out the news because it was set to go live the next day. We told everyone the good news on New Years Eve/Day and told work the following week. Just a week later, we had to tell everyone the bad news.
This was the first pregnancy for Jason and I. We were surprised when we found out in mid-November and the excitement was overwhelming. Nerves were there but were no match to seeing tiny baby clothes or touching my belly. It was incredibly difficult to keep it a secret for so long. I wanted to the whole world to know so I could actually BE pregnant without worrying someone would find out. It was the greatest news in the world and I could only celebrate it at home or with family who knew. Finally, we decided to tell everyone because we were almost at 12 weeks and I felt really good. And then it all started to fall apart. In 3 very short days, all the plans we made were no longer necessary. The sadness and emptiness crept in until that’s all that was left.
The first few days after it happened, we were comforted by the knowledge that we had no control over what happened. God has a plan and this is part of it. We trust in Him and are comforted knowing His plan is already in motion. We still wholeheartedly believe this but it’s a little more difficult to accept only this now. I felt very alone in the few days after. Jason was and is the most incredible, loving person to be going through this with. But it’s hard to explain to him the emptiness. And even with all the support and love we’ve felt from friends and family, something was missing.
Nervously, I started looking around online for blog posts from women who have gone through this before. I was nervous because I was so fragile. I didn’t know how these posts would make me feel but I needed someone else’s perspective. After reading through this post, I realized I needed to talk about it.
When telling friends and family, I’ve found myself apologizing for bringing up our news at certain times. I have chosen which parts of the story to tell to certain people. I’ve left out specific details for those it might scare; I’ve been strong in front of some and hurt in front of others. All while thinking, “I’m probably sharing too much. They don’t want to hear this. This isn’t their worry.” I would often hear myself degrading it to something common, that happens more often than we really know, which is very true but it’s anything but a “common” event. It’s a loss. I’ve lost my child. A child I will never know. A child I will never hold. I will never hear a laugh or see a smile or feel a kiss from this child. My. Child. Why should I not talk about this? Would I not be expected to mourn if this child had been born before he/she died?
If you know me in person, you most likely know that most topics are never off the table with me. I don’t believe in shying away from uncomfortable subjects or some that are considered inappropriate to discuss. I’m usually an open book. So I rarely understand why some topics are not meant to be discussed. Miscarriage is now one of them.
As a pregnant woman, miscarriage was off the table for me because I didn’t want it to happen. Obviously, that doesn’t make a difference. But what about it does general society deem taboo? 20% of woman lose a child through miscarriage. 1 in 5. Do you know why? Most people I’ve talked to ask me the same question: “Did the doctors tell you why this happened?” The answer is simply “no”. No one can tell you why this happens. Your body decides. Actually, your child’s body decides. Miscarriage is a result of development being unable to continue. Something doesn’t fit. Along with our faith that God has a bigger plan, that explanation was comforting at first. “There’s nothing I can do so I won’t do anything at all.” But then reality hits when you leave the house. Those strollers you were looking at last week fill you with overwhelming sadness. The maternity jeans you pull out of the dryer remind you that your belly isn’t growing anymore. The space you cleared on the bookshelf that’s now full of children’s books and toys seems cruel. The hard facts don’t comfort the last two months worth of planning and feeling and excitement. So what now?
Now, we cry. We mourn. We talk about it. We accept that tragedy has affected our lives. We never forget our first child. We’ve named our baby Rosalia. There’s no way to know whether it would have been a boy or girl but the story of Saint Rosalia felt incredibly fitting for our child and decided to give this name.
I wanted to share my story with you because this blog is a big part of my life. Without sharing this, posts and stories would most likely have been altered to skate around this and I didn’t want that. I want to be honest and share what I can to support, teach, and connect through my posts with you. And, in doing so, I hope to give comfort to anyone going through this, as the above story did for me.
I also encourage you to talk about your story. Don’t keep it inside because we need to know we’re not alone and your story could be the one that helps encourage others to share.
Jason and I are so thankful for all of the love and support that we have received during this time and during the joy of the announcing our pregnancy. We are very excited to become pregnant again and continue the process of growing our family. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.