When A Year Doesn't Change The Pain...

One year ago, on July 15^th I heard the sound that now haunts my dreams. It brings me both extreme happiness and sadness at the same time. It is the sound every parent to be longs to hear. It’s the sound that lets you know everything is ok. It is the moment it starts to officially feel real. That moment when you hear your baby’s heartbeat for the first time. 

On July 15^th, we would hear your perfect little heartbeat for the first and only time. A sound I can still hear when I close my eyes and think of you. It was the sweetest sound. A perfect, healthy and strong 171 beats per minute. I wish I would have listened longer. I wish I would have asked her to keep the sound on through the entire ultrasound but I thought we’d have more time. If I had only known.

I still remember the day I heard Jameson’s heartbeat for the first time. It was November 28, 2012. On November 28^th, every year I think of that sweet memory and how it was the moment I really began to feel like I was going to be a mom. It was the moment I began to let myself plan for a future with a child. On July 15, 2016, I began to do the same thing again. I thought about names, nursery themes, how to really prepare Jameson to be a big brother. Only this time I took for granted it would all work out. 

This year the day isn’t filled with those happy memories as I imagined it would be. Instead I’ve found myself wishing it would just pass on by. It reminds me that your perfect little heartbeat would soon stop. In a few weeks, it will be a year since we learned you had silently gone to be with Jesus. We’d never get to hold you, hear you cry or hear that sweet sound of your heartbeat again. 

I’d be lying if I said this year hasn’t been a struggle. I think of you all of the time. I lay awake at night and wonder who you’d be, who you’d look like, if you were a boy or girl, if you’d have your big brothers outgoing and wild personality or if you’d be more laid back. I see other babies that are close to the age you should be and I wonder if you’d be sitting up by now and getting your first teeth too. I wonder if you’d like the beach like me or be more of a fan of the AC like your daddy. There are so many things we will never get to know and that might be part of what hurts the most. We lost the chance to really get to know you. 

 

There is no understanding why your heart stopped. There was no reason to be found. I’ve begged for answers, I’ve looked for reasons. I needed something to tell me why your strong heart suddenly stopped. Some have said it wasn’t meant to be but I can’t believe you weren’t meant to be our child. Some say you must have had something wrong with you but you will always be our perfect angel in my eyes. Some say I should be over it by now but I’ll never be over the loss of you. Some say you can always have another child but another child won’t replace you. You’ll always be our second child. You’ll always be our sweet baby P. 

July 15^th, might always be hard. It will be the day I remember the one time I got to hear your perfect little heartbeat. The one time I got to see you move around on that screen so full of life. The one time your daddy and I held hands, smiled ear to ear and stared at the perfect angel you were. But it will also be the day I remember it’s ok to not be over you, it’s ok for me to cry because you were our child. You were as real as anyone and that kind of loss doesn’t just heal or go away. I may have never held you in my arms but I’ll always hold you in my heart. 

We love you sweet baby P!

The Truth Is....

Multiple times I’ve sat down to write, but each time the jumbled mess in my head didn’t make it to paper as I thought it should. It didn’t sound right. It was too depressing or not encouraging enough. Truth be told I was afraid if I said what I was really feeling or thinking people would criticize me. I was worried what others might think, so I’d hide my feelings a little deeper while searching the internet for blogs or anything that made me feel like I was normal. Like these feelings were ok after what I had been through. After months of fighting it I’m going to share my honest, raw, not so pretty feelings because I’m willing to bet there is someone else out there searching the internet for hope. Someone who is silently praying to come across something that makes them “normal.” So this if for you, because as alone as I know you feel you aren’t alone. I’ve been there! Heck, I’m still struggling my way through it one day at a time.

On August 5, 2016, 4 little words turned my life upside down. A perfect pregnancy was gone. My baby had died without me even knowing it had happened. I took that personally, because I felt like I should have known. I hadn’t experienced even one sign of miscarriage. There was no bleeding, no cramping, no pain, NOTHING! I went in to my ultrasound holding my husbands’ hand ready to hear the heartbeat of our second little miracle. That’s not what happened.

In the weeks that came I cried a lot, I went back to work and as a teacher school was starting the following Wednesday so I put on the fakest happy face I could and tried to pretend like my heart wasn’t torn to pieces inside my chest. I felt like the biggest loser in the world. How could I lose my baby and not even know? How come my body didn’t do the job it was created for? Why are there no answers? What did I do wrong? The list of questions that spun around in my head constantly were endless.

I thought all of this was normal and even though I felt like I might be drowning in my own thoughts but I kept quiet. I didn’t want to bother anyone with my grief. You see the world has this odd idea that mothers who miscarry should move on rather quickly. After all you’ve never even met this baby, you’ve never held it, or heard it cry. Some would even argue that this wasn’t even a life yet. I didn’t agree with those things before this but now I know what a real idiotic idea that is.

You see my baby may have only been 12 weeks old. I may not have held him/her in my arms, I will never hear them cry or hold their tiny little hands but make no mistake it was a life created in love between my husband and I. It was a life lost and the grief that surrounds that doesn’t just go away because the world says it should and it’s taken me a long time to realize that is ok.

About 5 weeks after the D&C I began to have some problems. It was early one morning and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. I called into work, called my husband in a panic and rushed to get to the doctor. I had no desire to step foot back in that office. I wasn’t ready to face that or the ultrasound that followed in the same room that had turned my life upside down a five short weeks prior. I cried uncontrollably. I panicked! I couldn’t hold it in any longer so I let it go right there in the doctor’s office with my poor husband watching helplessly. Looking back it was the best thing that probably happened but that day I felt ashamed of myself, I felt defeated, I wanted nothing more than to never face getting out of my bed again (not in I don’t want to live way, but more of an if I just lay here I don’t have to face the real world way). The doctor walked in and took one look at me and immediately started questioning my behavior. She spoke more to my husband than me which infuriated me at the time. Honestly I think she knew I’d lie to her and she needed truthful answers but I felt so useless. I ended up leaving with a new prescription for anxiety medicine.

I had never heard of postpartum anxiety before in my life and while postpartum depression is more commonly known it isn’t discussed often. I was sad of course and there may have been a normal amount of depression in my life at that point but my anxiety level was through the roof. Now I’ll admit I’m typically a little more anxious than most. I’ve been known to panic a time or two in my life but this was uncontrollable. I couldn’t deal with everyday stress. I was drowning in the stress of being a wife, mom, teacher and dealing with my own insecurities. This little bottle of pills was supposed to help me deal. You know help me be more of the old me (although I don’t think I’ll ever see her again). All I felt walking out of there with that prescription weighing a million pounds in my purse was guilt. I had failed again! I couldn’t even cope with this the right way. What a freakin’ loser!!

I’ve struggled my whole life with having enough confidence in myself. I’m the first person to judge me. I can name a list of things that aren’t good enough anytime of the day. I’m not tall enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, my hair is too thin, my nails aren’t perfectly done, my clothes aren’t designer or up to date…. BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH! I spent most of middle and high school afraid to go for anything I wanted because I might fail. I once hid in the bathroom because a boy I liked was going to ask me to go to spring formal with him. In my head there was no way he could want someone like me. I wasn’t good enough.

Now I’ve come a long way since those days but my confidence is still shaky at best. I still find myself sitting quietly at work afraid there is no way those other teachers could like me. This had rocked my core. I had no confidence in myself at all. There was no way I could be a good wife, mom, teacher, friend, daughter, aunt. I wasn’t even able to carry my baby like I was supposed to. I didn’t even know they had died. What kind of worthless person does that make me?

I struggled with everything! I had convinced myself my husband didn’t want me anymore. I would tell him all the time I knew he was going to leave. I saw everything as reasons he would. Oh, he stayed an extra 20 minutes longer than normal at the gym it must be because he doesn’t want to be around me. Oh, he didn’t text me this morning to say I love you until I text him first he must only be saying it because he feels bad for me. When I say I could make something out of nothing I mean it. I was making a chocolate chip into darn-gone Mount Everest!

I had begun pushing everyone away. I didn’t talk to my friends like normal. I’d sit quietly in groups. I didn’t want to go to church because honestly I was mad at God. (I’m still working through that and I’ll write more on it later) I wasn’t myself. I was going to sit and drown in myself because I didn’t think I was worth enough to bother people by talking about it.

I’d even get mad when people would try to push me into talking about it. How can they understand? I’m all alone in this. No one knows the failure I’m feeling. How could they? But I’m telling you right now I understand what you’re feeling. You aren’t alone. If you are struggling ask for help, talk to someone, anyone. (contact me through a comment I’ll listen)

I did reluctantly start taking the medicine after much convincing on my husband’s part. I think he knew something was really wrong. I’m not usually one to sit quietly around those I know and not express how I feel. I’ve been told multiple times even when I do its written all over my face. I guess after 10 years of being together he knew I needed the push. After a week of the medicine the fog in my head started to clear. It wasn’t a magical fix but I felt less like I was gonna be swallowed up at any minute.

It’s been 109 days. Every day I get up and the reality hits me it the face. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about where I think my life should be and where it currently is. I still have moments when I’m so overwhelmed I can’t hold in the tears. Like the day I had to buy a baby shower gift for my nephew being born just three weeks before I was due. I cried hysterically in the middle of the baby section at Target. Or the day the lady at Walgreens asked if my three-year-old was my old child. I didn’t know what to say. Yes, no, I don’t know!

Yet, I’ve come a long way. I may not be excited to need the medication but I know, without a doubt, if it weren’t for the medicine I’d still be drowning in myself, quietly, afraid to ask for help. I wouldn’t have known being overwhelmed and anxious was apart of postpartum without the complications I experienced. I had looked the internet over and had a hard time finding much information about women experiencing postpartum after miscarriages. It’s just not talked about too much. 

The truth is I still struggle. 109 days and it isn’t magically easier. It hasn’t gone away. Life will never be what it was. I still have moments that I feel like the biggest failure in the world or when I feel like I might be swallowed up by the guilt of letting my husband and son down. BUT I’ve finally realized I’m not the only one who feels like this, I’m not the only one who needed someone else to guide me to the help I needed.

 So to anyone who might be reading this and is in need of a little encouragement you aren’t alone friend. Its ok you aren’t over it. Its ok you lock yourself in the bathroom and cry that ugly cry that leaves you feeling exhausted afterward. Its ok that sometimes you look at other pregnant women and feel a little jealous. Its ok! You are normal! This is messy so you don’t have to have it all together all the time. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Hold your head high and be the best you, you can be today.

Another Friday!

 

 

Friday may never mean the same thing to me, for it was a Friday when my world turn upside down. It was Friday when I heard the four words that will forever haunt my dreams “there is no heartbeat.” Fridays are hard! It’s just another week without the baby I desperately wanted. The baby I love with all of my heart but never met. The one I’m supposed to be over the loss of but my heart can’t move on from yet.

            As I lay here tonight still awake, even after taking the medicine I now have to take to even fall asleep without seeing that ultrasound and hearing those words on repeat in my head, I’m reminded its Friday and my heart hurts. I lay here with the thoughts of you in my head. What would you look like? Who would you have acted like me or your daddy? Would you be just as wild as your big brother or more laid back? Would you have his same big blue eyes and cotton top hair? I’ve dreamed of you a thousand times but my heart still breaks.

            As I lay here I think it has to stop hurting so much. At some point it has to get easier. My heart can’t stay in these pieces forever. I look at your big brother and I see the works of God and I wonder how could the same God who created this perfect little ball of energy take you away. I wonder how He couldn’t save you. I wonder what I did wrong. I’ve been over the list of things I could have done differently millions of times and I can’t seem to find an answer and my heart just breaks.

            As I lay here I cry out to God “I just want my baby back.” I cry into my pillow and beg the world to turn back time. BUT, I’ll wake up tomorrow and the truth will hit me again and I’ll start the process to another Friday over again, but tomorrow won’t be so bad.  Tomorrow will be Saturday and it won’t kick me in the gut and shatter my heart quite as hard. I may still be broken but I’m trying to find my way in this new normal.