Miscarriage.
It's one of those words that always felt heavy, but distant.
Growing up, I’d hear about family friends who had experienced it, and I know women who have suffered a loss I couldn’t begin to imagine. But while I knew that having a miscarriage was extremely heartbreaking, it always felt like something that happened to other people.
Until it happened to me.
When I found out I was pregnant, that distant concept suddenly barged in the front door of my brain. I turned to Dr. Google for every question and symptom I had.
“Can I eat ___ while pregnant?”
“Are these cramps normal or signs of a miscarriage?”
“Common symptoms of early pregnancy”
“What does normal spotting look like?”
“Can I take <insert random medication here> while pregnant?” (This answer was almost always no.)
You have to know me and how my mind works to understand that every tiny symptom I had - I expected and assumed the worst. My brain, unfortunately, works on a worst-case-scenario loop. Every ache, every spasm - I braced myself for the worst.
Everyone said things like, “Try not to stress yourself out.” .. “Don’t work yourself up.” .. “Try not to get upset.”
Well.
I tried not to stress. Then, there was a low heart rate.
I tried not to work myself up. Then, I was told to come back in a week to see if things are progressing or not.
I tried not to get upset. Then, the ultrasound showed us a baby with no heartbeat.
Now, I try to figure out what it is I’m feeling, every day.
The first few weeks were definitely hard. Going back and forth to the doctor for ultrasounds or bloodwork to make sure everything passed as it should. No more googling if I could take an Ibuprofen. No more needing Peyton to carry the heavy things. No more second-guessing caffeine. Moments that once carried so much meaning, now felt so hollow.
Then, there were (and still are) the things that sneak up on me. Scrolling through my photos and seeing pics/vids from when we told our mom’s. Scrolling through social media and being completely bombarded with pregnancy/newborn content because my algorithm picked up my Google searches. Randomly thinking about how far along I would be – 23 weeks, by the way.
No matter how hard my brain worked at trying to prepare me, it didn’t ease the mental or physical blow. Nothing could have prepared me for the way it would feel to carry so much hope, only to have it taken away before I could hold it in my arms.
It’s weird because I never can tell when those thoughts will pop in mind or when that kind of thing will upset me. Some days, it knocks the breath out of me. Other days, it just lingers as a dull ache in my chest. It really is something that you just have to take day by day. I’ve been told there’s no timeline and no right way to deal with the grief. A part of me questions if any of this will ever feel any better.
I dread my upcoming due date in August. It hurts to see pictures of my pregnant friends. I feel like an awful, selfish person. Like I'm supposed to smile, but all I feel are splinters in my heart. Like I should be stronger. Like I should be moving past it by now.
But while some days might be easier to get through than others, my heart doesn't feel healed at all. It hurts, every day. I'm tired, every day.
I’ve come to terms with this being one of the many things that I will never understand. I’m not meant to. And, I still believe that all things work together for good. I still believe that all things happen for a reason. I still believe this entire situation can be turned around and used for God’s glory. I might not see any of it yet, but I still believe it.
My faith in God hasn’t removed the pain, but it is the only reason I’ve been able to stand in the middle of it. When I felt lost or didn’t know how to pray, He met me in the silence. He carried what I couldn’t. And He is still carrying me now.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
If you have gone through or are currently going through the loss of your baby, my heart goes out to you. It's okay to feel what you're feeling. You are not alone.
Xoxo,
Josie
To my tiny angel baby -
I'll never stop thinking about you. I'll never stop talking about you. I love and miss you more than words. The small amount of time that you were here, changed me forever. I didn't get to keep you, but I will always carry you. In my heart, in my story, in every moment. Until we meet in Heaven, I'll keep loving you from here.
Love,
Mama