One in Four

Sometimes it's hard to know whether to blog about certain life events. It's not like I'm an excellent blogger anyways and I always have fear that what I write may be taken the wrong way. But sometimes things happen in life that change you. And until it happens it happens to you, you can't understand the emotions involved and that a surprising amount of people around you have faced the same thing. On Thursday I was routinely scrolling through Facebook when I saw an image that took my breath away. Before this summer I would have seen it, thought of some friends, and honestly gone on with my day. But this year is different.

Apparently October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. And I am 1 in 4. 

I should go ahead and say here that every "I" should be a "We." It was Clark's baby too. We shared in both joy and grief. However, I can't personally account for what I am sure is an equal amount of complicated emotions for him. But I can say that I can't imagine a better, more supportive partner to weather this storm with.

So since this is the awareness month, I will share my story. I'm not looking for pity or attention. I just want to share so other Angel Baby Mothers can remember they are not alone. I'm not proclaiming that since I've had one I'm now an expert on the subject. I'm just sharing my own personal experience and hoping I don't misrepresent a whole group of women. Miscarriage is something society doesn't talk about, but deeply affects more people than we think. For those that haven't personally experienced a miscarriage, maybe reading our story can provide insight into the complex emotions involved and how to support those loved ones. 

Anyone who has known me for any amount of time is familiar with my love for babies and longing to be a mother. Even before we were married, I couldn't wait for the time when Clark and I would have brown-eyed babies. I {im}patiently waited through vet school. I {im}patiently waited until we had moved and were settled into our jobs. Then finally we bought a house. We were finally ready. Surely this was God's timing too!? And just like I would have pictured God to plan it, we found out were were expecting the week of our fifth wedding anniversary. Those two pink lines were the best anniversary present I could have ever asked for. 

We told immediate family members and a few people at work given some of the hazards of my occupation. The next two weeks were full of sweet excitement as we waited for our first ultrasound. During that ultrasound the baby didn't image as far along as we should have been. The doctors tried to be reassuring that everything looked healthy, but events over the next 72 hours made it clear that we would not be having a baby. 

At first I was sad and numb. It didn't help that all this was happening on a weekend that I was on call; a weekend on call that ended up being worse than usual. I know had a requested I could have had someone else cover (and they did for a while so I could get some sleep), but at the time we thought it might me good to carry on and keep my mind off things. It wasn't going to change the out come anyway.

Since then I've been navigating through a complexity of emotions that I didn't know I was capable of feeling simultaneously. I expected to be sad; sadness in the feelings of loss, emptiness, and let down of myself and others. Sad that I wasn't having a baby. 

Not too surprisingly, there was fear. I was fearful of the process and what it would leave me like emotionally. I was fearful that now that we've had one miscarriage that it was opening the door to a long road of future miscarriages and infertility. I was (am) afraid that we will never be able to conceive, carry, and have a baby. 

I kinda expected to be mad, but I didn't realize how sensitive I would be. I was mad that I live in a world that cares more about a dead lion than the loss of thousands of babies each year to abortion, miscarriage, and infant death. Being a veterinarian was tough for a while. I know our pets are precious to us like family and losing them is hard. But is was tough to counsel others while I was mourning the loss of human life. At times I was mad that those around me were quicker to give their condolences for the loss of a pet than the loss of our baby. I didn't blame them, it's just the situation and world that we're in. I was mad that I only talked to my doctor once during the whole process and during that time neither the doctor or other medical staff asked me how I was doing or if I needed any mental or emotional support. I was mad that each time I had to have my blood drawn I was made to sit in the waiting room surrounded by baby carriers and rounded bellies while grieving my empty womb. Most of all, I was mad I wasn't having a baby. 

What I wasn't expecting was the feeling of guilt. I felt guilty for being mad about all the above reasons. I even felt guilty for being sad. It was hard losing this baby, but others have been through so much more than I have-- multiple miscarriages, losing them later in their pregnancy, infant death, pediatric cancer, loss of spouses, etc. Did I even have the right to be that sad? I felt guilty that I had brought others into our happiness and then had to let them down too. I STILL feel guilty that I can't be as emotionally available for my close friends that are pregnant; that their pregnancy announcements brought tears of grief to my eyes rather than those of joy. It frankly embarrasses me and I'm so sorry to them. I felt guilty that my first attempt at being a mother, the job I was born to do, was a failure. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? I felt guilty that I wasn't having a baby.  

From the beginning I've asked God to show me what He wanted from this and to let our situation bring glory to Him. For a while that's all I could manage to say to Him. And while I haven't figured out exactly what it is He wants, I know that it involves more reliance on Him and His timing. He's also revealed the ways we were blessed in the situation. I am blessed to have a God who is in control and has perfect timing. He has blessed me with a partner who is so loving and supportive. Clark is the quiet, understanding chest to cry into and says the right things when needed. I am blessed with incredible parents who drove up to be here less than 18 hours (since I had to work) just to sit and be with us. I am blessed to have compassionate and perceptive friends who seem to know just when to check in. I am blessed that as far as we know I am healthy and that we get to try for our rainbow baby. Until then I am learning, with the help of The Resolution for Women, to be content in the situation I am in as a happily married, childless, women. 

So if you meet a 1-in-4, I hope you'll have a little more understanding of what she may be going through. Nothing you can say will likely make the situation better, but somethings could make it worse. I promise I'm not singling anyone out, but statements regarding age and getting to try again are more hurtful than helpful. While we recognize you're just trying to provide hope in a time of despair, we don't want to have to try again. We want that baby. Try just telling her that you love her, that you're thinking about or praying for her. While everyone is different, in general all we need is for people to love us, support us, and recognize that we have faced a loss. So don't be afraid to bring it up. 

If you made it this far, thanks for sticking it out and hearing our story. Please continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers.