It's easier for me to pretend that I am when I'm with my parents. I get distracted (like helping my dad navigate FB, and helping him start a blog.) My mom pumps me full of delicious food. They help take care of the kids.
For a time, a short time, I can forget what I'm dealing with.
But then it comes back.
I loved my due date. I loved the thought of having a new baby by Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I know that I can't rest all my hopes in seeing a baby on the ultrasound, but I was hoping for that. The only baby I've seen on ultrasound is Maddy.
Every other one... Nothing. My hcg is too low. Not a sac. Not a fetal pole. Not a body. Empty, crappy uterus.
It makes it weird to grieve when there is no body. Other people can say, "I know I lost a baby ... I saw the heartbeat."
I have no such validation.
I believe personhood starts at conception. And it is that belief that allows me to grieve. I don't grieve for a lost pregnancy. Or a lost opportunity. Or a late period.
I grieve because my baby was real, even if only God could see them.
I didn't want to know our hcg this last time. There are lots of reasons for that, but the nurses ran it anyway and now I know.
I only made it to 35.
I hate numbers. They just make it too easy to compare. I hate when I feel like my 7-8 week losses are more important than my 5-week ones.
35 sounds so low, almost like it didn't even matter.
But it did. It mattered to me.
I feel lonelier this time.
Almost all of my close, dear friends that I love are pregnant ... As they should be. It just means I don't feel like I can talk to them about this. I don't want to call them and cry, lest they feel survivor's guilt. Or lest I feel jealous.
For first time ever, I don't want to go to Vegas for my business conference.
It's so weird... I claim that I am lonely, but I can't stand the thought of being surrounded by so many people.
I realized that this is the first miscarriage that didn't happen on a weekend. I'm so accustomed to Ryan being home, and someone taking the kids, that this is the first day I will have to go through the bulk of the physical aspect of it while taking care of the kids.
Today my spirit feels broken on a whole new level.
1 is enough. 2 is ridiculous. 3 is incomprehensible. 4? What is 4?
4 is loneliness.
I didn't see anything of my little one either, and it haunts me nearly four years later. It makes me wonder if he/she was real some days. It is the loneliest feeling to miss someone only you knew. I just started reading your blog, and I am so sad and angry for you. Thank God for parents like yours. May they bring a small comfort.
ReplyDeleteGod is good. He plans these things for a reason...
ReplyDeleteI haven't lost any babies, but this year has been one of various family tragedies for us... It is totally legit to see in this that the results of sin are ugly. And horrible. And unnatural. Things weren't meant to be this way. Seeing all this ugly, feeling the loneliness and hopelessness, is for a reason. It's to make us realize that there is only one solution, and that's Jesus. I have never more in my life desired the return of Christ, and I think that's a good thing.
All 4 of my babies that I've lost, I haven't been able to see a heartbeat either. It does make it harder in some aspects, for me anyway... to feel like I not only missed out on bringing that baby into this world and finally being able to hold my baby or bring them home... I never even got to see the heartbeats. 4 seriously sucks. :(
ReplyDeleteI've been trying to put my experience into words and every time I read your posts I feel you are speaking for me. I've only had 3 losses but each hurt as you describe.
ReplyDeleteOh dear, sweet Rachel. My heart hurts for you. I know your anger. I know your loneliness. I know how it feels to be betrayed by your body. Somebody told me the other day "Wonder if God felt this way when His Son died?" I bet he probably did. Thank you for posting. It does help the rest of us know that even though we're angry and lonely we are not alone. Prayers for you and Ryan.
ReplyDeleteCelia
Rachel, I cannot even begin to comprehend what you are going through. Four miscarriages is just too much. One is too much, but four - well, it makes me angry for you. You're in my prayers, and I know it doesn't help - but I am truly so sorry for your loss. I am grieving for you and your loss and hoping for blessings for you and your family in the future.
ReplyDeleteRachel, I've been reading your blog ever since I found your article on "Why Miscarriage Matters if You Are Pro-Life." My heart goes out to you. Two weeks after I read that, I lost our first baby. It was the most devastating thing I have ever been through. I cannot imagine going through this four times. I know a lot of people say "I will be praying for you" and then they go on their way and forget all about you, and never so much as utter a prayer, but I want you to know I HAVE prayed for you, and I will continue to pray for you. I wrote a post about my own miscarriage. Putting it out there was so hard, but I wanted to minister to someone. Many of yours have ministered to me. http://operationwife.com/a-reservoir-of-glory-miscarriage/
ReplyDeleteI have been reading your blog since a friend sent me to it after my miscarriage. It's been one and a half months. Like many of the others who have commented, I feel as if you are speaking words from my heart. This weekend was just as hard and as lonely as the past 6 have been. May the Lord comfort you (and the rest of us) at this difficult time.
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