Today's a heavy one, folks. But, it has a happy ending so I encourage you to read on if you like that sort of thing. I haven't posted in a while. For lots of reasons but mostly because we moved back to the states and stopped traveling and I started working again and then I got pregnant (three times) but more on that later. I know that October is Miscarriage Awareness Month, and specifically, October 15th is Miscarriage Remembrance Day. I know this because I’ve had two miscarriages. I’m sharing my story to honor the two babies we lost too early, but who will always be in our hearts.
For those of you in the know, you also know that I am currently 25 weeks pregnant with what I already imagine to be the most beautiful and lovable and precious baby boy. This is the silver lining, people! A little something to get us all through the rest of this heaviness. I feel beyond blessed every day, every second really, to be carrying this magnificent gift. He is our special son, and we love him more than we could have ever known was possible and perhaps, even a little more than that.
Though we didn’t arrive to him easily, I have never been more sure that things really do happen the way they are supposed to. Because of what we have suffered, we will love this little guy a little deeper, cherish him a little more thoughtfully, and relish in all his splendor to the last of our living days. It may seem morbid to want to focus on our past losses while we are preparing for such a wondrous event, but a funny thing happens when you carry a child you won’t get to meet. You become a mother, and even when that is taken away from you, and even when you have grieved all you can and you move on, there are still little places in your heart where a couple of little souls live on, who are very much worthy of remembrance.
We lost two pregnancies, one at 9 weeks and the other at 11, within 7 months of each other. The sadness and helplessness in your heart, the guilt and grief in your bones, and the overwhelming fear of a lost future is enough to cave in your soul. It’s all so brutal and so very much to bear. I have the greatest empathy and respect for women who go through infertility. It is a lonely and often private heartbreak that isn’t discussed much, which is why I feel compelled to just put it out there.
This is our story and it ends with hope. I can’t tell you how many google searches I ran to find just this type of entry when I was in the thick of it. I want to let people know that there can be moments of peace and hopefulness amongst all the worry and pain. And that you should never give up, although this is not a trait that women who want to hold a baby possess. They are warriors. They take the biggest blind leaps of faith, they sacrifice their bodies, and they do so with so much love in their hearts.
This day is for all of them, for all of us, who have dreamed big dreams and had to watch them shatter, incapable of changing nature’s course. And it’s for those of us who pushed our way through it all to arrive at some semblance of peace. I found mine in a group of women who came together every week to share a little bit about the tiny souls in their own hearts. Through this weekly appointment, I gathered up the courage to keep trying and before I knew it, we were blessed with another pregnancy. Nothing will prove life’s serendipitous nature more than having a dream come true, just as you have given up hope. To all my fellow warriors, your day will come too. There is no one more deserving.
But most importantly, this day is for all those beautiful souls who never came to be. Today I remember my two sweet babes, who we loved from their very inception, and who we will love until there is no time left. You both taught me what it means to be a mother, and you paved the way for your brother, who we are ever so grateful for. Without you, we would not know him, and I promise that we will honor you all, forever.