This post from Facebook really moved me.
As I go through this journey, one thing I actually didn’t want to acknowledge is the possibility of a miscarriage or a still birth. This is something thankfully I have not gone through. I don’t know, after all of this, I just can’t even imagine how it would be like. I know someone who when through a still birth, and someone who had to end a pregnancy early because the baby was not developing nor was the heart.
My accupuncturist, Irene, who learned acupuncture in China and has been doing it for 30 years, keeps telling me in her english-chinese accent:
“Its one thing to make it, its another thing to keep it. You need to keep it and make it successful”.
I’m sitting in this thought this week, feeling a bit paralyzed by this. How many things can still go wrong?
Jesus, how the fuck do any of you actually have children? How the heck am I even here?
In the world right now, the only thing I can think of that makes it better, is really just going back to the miracle of birth. Its a miracle. Honestly, it really….really……is!
This post below really moved me, as she describes how she found out she was having a miscarriage. I feel for her so much more deeply than I could have ever in the past.
This is another thing we just don’t talk about.
I recently went to a retreat called, “Family constellation”, where the purpose was to recreate your family dynamics and have a chance to really see how its shaped you from childhood to an adult.
The most fascinating thing about the retreat/workshop, was that the facilitator, Michael Schiesser was asking the participants if there were any miscarriages in the family. At the end of each person’s session, we would go around acknowledging all the miscarriages and still births had that occurred, in accordance to the birth order of all the siblings. One person who thought they had two siblings, all of a sudden had four. He was the youngest in the family. He didn’t realize why there was such a gap between him and his sisters. He had resented his parents that that there such a gap between him and siblings. What he saw was that he was wanted so much that through all the heartbreak of miscarriage, his parents kept going till they had him. He was filled with so much love at that moment his resentment burst.
It really had a profound impact on me, as I saw how much we don’t acknowledge a life that was there but didn’t make it all the way through. All those angels who thought they wanted to take shape, but decided against it.
Miscarriage is also something like fertility that is hush hush. Why?
Is it because its hard to deal with death?
Is it because we don’t know what to say if someone was to tell you, “I have two kids but one I lost to miscarriage so really I have three children”. I’m not sure we are taught to process that. Even I don’t know what I would say because “I’m sorry”, is so lame.
This is why this post moved me so much. She tells it how it is and let us remember the angels who came but left us too soon.
Love What Matters (copied from a post from Facebook)
“I had to pee so badly but they wouldn’t let me go. They said I needed a full bladder because it’s easier to see the baby during the ultrasound. I remember feeling so frustrated not only because of my full bladder, but because I had to fill out what seemed like 50 pages of paperwork before I could empty my bladder and see the baby I’d been waiting to see for 8 weeks.
I finally was walked to the back room where I was greeted with a smile from everyone because the happiness from carrying a baby was contagious. The ultrasound began and I saw the images right in front of me. My heart was beating out of my chest. This was exciting!
This was a day my husband and I had been waiting for, for over a year.
But these images were different from the ones I’ve seen on Facebook that all my girlfriends had posted, something was wrong.
I saw nothing because my body was just hours away from miscarriage.
My ultrasound tech was quiet and I just knew. She left the room and my husband quickly assured me that “everything is fine.” But don’t tell that to a girl who has seen hundreds of ultrasound photos, who has searched Instagram for the hashtag “8weeks” to see what her baby now looked like.
I knew it wasn't right and it wasn't.
I remember being afraid to cry. I didn’t feel as if I deserved to cry because “I wasn’t that far along,” and “this happens all the time.”
I remember holding back the tears with every ounce of my being and not being able to look my husband in the face because I knew his pain would break me.
I was sent home to let my body naturally run its course and it did. I felt everything but had nothing to show for it.
My doctor didn’t let me leave without warning and she was right about everything. But what she didn’t warn me about was everything that would happen after the initial heartbreak and pain.
- She didn’t tell me I was going to be reminded for weeks to come because my body was going to take that long to “clean out.”
- She didn’t tell me I was going to have to watch my husband weep.
- She didn’t tell me how hard it was going to be to tell my mom what had happened.
- She didn’t tell me that my body was going to continue thinking it was pregnant for weeks to come.
- She didn’t tell me how hard it was going be to tell people I was fine when I wasn’t. She didn’t tell me that this was going to make me a jealous person over-night.
- She didn’t tell me how much harder the question “when are you having kids?” was going to be. And she didn’t tell me that it was going to be so hard losing someone I had never met.
But she did tell me it was okay to cry and she did tell me that I wasn’t alone.
Miscarriages are SO real and so common, in fact, one out of four women experience a miscarriage; but don’t let that confuse you into thinking it hurts any less. As large as this statistic is, I still felt alone and I have finally figured out why: because no one talks about it.
It wasn’t until I started talking about it to my friends and family that I slowly realized I wasn’t alone. That my mom, my aunt, my sister, my sisters best friend all have experienced this heartbreak and pain, a heartbreak and pain I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.
People may wonder why I choose to talk about this after months have passed, but it’s the harsh reality that time really doesn’t heal all wounds so I am hoping sharing my story will help with the healing process. I am not looking for pity and I am not looking for answers. I am sharing this so that maybe one less woman will feel alone and use this as a reminder or message that there is hope after this heartbreak.
This is my hope for you…
I hope that you won’t feel alone.
I hope that you let yourself cry.
I hope that you will see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I hope that though your faith will be tested, you will be strong.
I hope you find peace.
I hope you won’t be afraid to try again.
I hope that you don’t blame yourself.
I hope that your friends hug you a little tighter.
I hope that you give someone else hope through your hardship
I hope that you are a light in the darkest of time.
…and I hope that you celebrate that baby’s life as much as you celebrate the next because no matter how short a life, all life deserves to be celebrated and all loss should be mourned.
Feel free to share if this spoke to you or you feel as if it might speak to someone you know.”
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Credit: Emily Christine