After Loss…

(Original written and shared on social media 11/18/17).

When I was growing up...in high school, college- I just always thought "yeah, I'll be a mom someday". No questions asked. No thought about the complications, losses of what ifs that could occur along the way.

Naïveté. Just a lack of understanding of how often complications with parenthood, pregnancy, or infertility happen.

I recognize the incredible blessing that when my husband and I decided that we were at a place and time where we wanted to try to start having kids- it was a relatively quick turnaround from the time of trying to the time of finding out we were pregnant. That does not always happen. I know that.

During my first pregnancy, I was elated, excited, new mom nervous, and super duper innocent. I didn't really think of the things that could happen. Or if those those came into my head- I pushed them out quickly and forcefully. I didn't want to let my mind go there.

We thanked God that that pregnancy was relatively smooth, and the delivery of our first baby boy brought us incredible joy. And a lot of learning.

When our older son was about 16 months, we found out we were expecting baby #2. Due in the late summer of 2016. We were over the moon again.

But I also had a feeling of dread. Anxiety that just weighed on me. I felt hyper aware of all the bad things that could happen. And I just kept waiting for the other show to drop. Thinking "well something has to happen to us too, right?".

When my husband and I went in for our appointment at 13 weeks...the other shoe dropped. It was February 6, 2016.

I remember sitting in the ultrasound tech's room- watching her wave the wand over my stomach trying to see or detect a heartbeat. Nothing. Just black and white on the screen. And stillness.

My heart dropped. I looked at the tech. Her face was difficult to read. She didn't say anything. Just kept scanning the machine and screen. I felt it difficult to breathe. I looked at my husband. We didn't say anything- just exchanged a look. The tech finally indicated that she was going to get our doctor. We waited a few minutes. Then he came in. He started talking- but then stopped himself, shook his head and gestured for us to follow him into his office just down the hall. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in the cold sterility of the room we were in.

We sat in big overstuffed office arm chairs. And he told us.

No heartbeat. There would be no baby. This wasn’t a viable pregnancy. We were experiencing a miscarriage. And although I had no symptoms or indicators to date...we had a choice. Either we could schedule a D&C. Or wait it out to miscarry naturally.

That decision alone felt overwhelming. I couldn't stop the tears. The heavy feeling in my heart. The bleakness I felt. The thought kept running through my head "Oh. So this is what this feels like".

We sat with our doctor for probably 30 minutes or so. Talking. Processing. Making a plan for next steps. Asking all the questions about the now, as well as "what does this mean for the future"?

There were a lot of next steps following that appointment and conversation. The D&C followed just a few days later. I couldn't go back to work for several days. And I honestly just had a hard time facing people.

We hadn't told many people at all- we were waiting for after that ultrasound. But we told a few...and then had to go through the "untelling" or updating of info.

And I held it in. Didn't want to share. Couldn't find the words to. But felt horribly alone.

I thanked God regularly for my little family- my husband and son. And recognized the blessing of having them there. But I will felt the loss. Still felt empty.

I remember walking outside at work one day...wind blowing on a cold February day. It was gray out. I was bundled up. It was only a week or two after I went back to work. Snow/sleet was swirling around the air...I walked fast to keep too many thoughts from rushing in. My head was down, and I thought "something better is coming. God's got a plan. It's in His hands. Something better is coming."

That became my go to phrase that I would repeat silently to myself for days, weeks and months after that loss.

“Something better is coming.”

Edited to add (10/3/21):

In the years since, I truly believe that whatever you need to tell yourself, repeat as your mantra, listen to, pray or say…it’s up to you. To decide what is going to get you though.

In Hope & Light,

💜D