As I read the following article out loud to Brett my voice started to break, tears fell and my lips trembled. It was as if I was writing the article myself....
"I lost my first pregnancy — and almost lost myself"
I'd only known I was pregnant for a matter of weeks when the cramping started. Still, What to Expect When You're Expecting was already dog-eared, and my copy of Sears and Sears's The Pregnancy Book looked like it had survived multiple generations of moms-to-be. Miscarriage, however, had been only a footnote in my reading.
I was in bed, and the white sheets beneath me turned red. My husband called the hospital and our obstetrician was paged. My physician, a seasoned veteran, was nonchalant: "Yep, it sounds to me like she's miscarried. Come on in first thing in the morning."
The next day, we returned home from the doctor's office, where they'd confirmed the obvious via ultrasound. The excitement that had hung in the air was replaced by a fuzzy melancholy, and sadness for something lost. My husband tucked me into the couch with a blanket, carefully removing the stack of pregnancy books from the coffee table in front of me. I absently flipped through a catalog, crying when I came across baby clothes I had circled in blue ballpoint. As the intense physical pain faded into lingering depression, this is how I passed my days: I stared into space, lost interest in keeping the house tidy, and sat morosely at the dinner table each night. I felt let down by all the magazines, books, and, worst of all, the other women around me. Why hadn't anyone told me to fear this? Or how profoundly it would hurt, and how the feelings of grief would overwhelm me?
Many months later, my husband came into our bedroom, where I'd been spending most of my time; I slept 10, 12 hours a night, but was always drowsy. He looked over at me, crying, having lost not only the dream of a child but his wife as well. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, begging, "Baby, come back." Though the child we lost was gone forever, I realized then that it was time for me to return.
It has been quite awhile since I have cried purely due to the loss of our sweetbaby but I sincerely felt exactly what this woman was describing deep down in my heart. I cried for her, for myself and for every person that has ever experienced the loss of a child.
In my case I had no bleeding and had not discovered the loss of my beautiful baby until 2 weeks after his/her heart had already stopped beating but the words she used to discribe how she felt; lost, fuzzy, melancholy, sadness, grief where exactly what I felt. I still remember coming home after what should have been my 11w1d appointment feeling so empty. Everything was hazy and I was waiting for the second that I would wake up from this horrible dream. Well I never woke up and I finally realized this was real life and there was nothing I could do about it.
I felt like I had failed my sweetbaby and my husband. My first job as a mother and I FAILED!
I have come a long way since this horrible experience. I have realized that it was nothing that I did, nothing that Brett did and nothing we could have prevented. Some things are just too perfect for this earth and my sweetbaby was one of those things.
At first I was thinking "I wish I never even picked up that magazine", but now I am glad that I did. I have made some great friends since my miscarriage, girls that have been through what I have and are a great source of support. Reading this article though really gave me a feeling of belonging. I am not the only one that this has happened to and I am not the only one that feels these feelings, they are natural and feeling them only makes me human. My miscarriage has made me who I am and become a part of me just like when you become a mother it becomes a part of who you are. It is a life molding experience that I will never forget.
For anyone reading that has suffered a miscarriage of any sort just remember YOU ARE NOT ALONE! <3
