*Warning: This is an extremely personal post. I didn't want to share with anyone other than the couple of people I already opened up to, but I really feel that someone out there needs to hear my story to receive their own healing. So I'm going to stretch myself and share... despite how silly or small it may seem to others. It's big for me. I hope that you find encouragement from this in some small way. *If you're a dude.... you probably want to skip out on this post. Just sayin'. ;)
Oh, how I loathe the term "chemical pregnancy." It takes away from the miracle, the life, the depth of what once was. It makes a tiny, profound creation seem like a speck of dust. Yes, I realize the size of such a creation isn't much bigger, but if your focus is on that little detail, you're missing my point.
Over Mother's Day weekend, I experienced such a loss. I had my typical symptoms of pregnancy about 4-5 days prior... maybe even up to a week before... tracking time isn't my strong suit. I always get nauseous and fatigued even before missing my period, and it was obvious enough to me that this was more than just PMS symptoms. I'm still nursing my almost-17-month-old part time, so my cycle is still quite irregular, but I was past my first "due" date for Aunt Flo. So I bought a 3-pack First Response Pregnancy Test.
I took the first test late Friday afternoon and got a faint positive. A cheesetastic smile plastered itself across my face. I tried not to become attached, I really did... but I'm a sucker for a pink line. A pink line is full of possibilities. A pink line brings with it hopes and dreams and fills your heart with love... great big love... for a tiny life growing inside your womb. At least it does for me. I was excited... nervous.... but mostly beaming at the thought of bringing a sixth child into our family. Despite my most valiant effort, I latched on to all of those hopes and dreams and plans like a leech.
Because I wanted to be absolutely certain of the pregnancy, I took another test Saturday morning. I was nauseous. That was a good sign. I fully expected to see a slightly darker line on that stick. Nothing. I'll admit, I did fret over that disappointing sight. Maybe it was a faulty test. I decided I'd give it another day or two and test again.
An hour or two... or three later, I started cramping. This is pretty normal in early pregnancy, but it did have me on edge a bit. Not long after that, the blood came... and my heart sank. Despite my disappointment, I held it together pretty well. I thought maybe that first test was a false positive... even though that isn't as likely as a false negative. I distracted myself... made myself busy.
Sunday morning I woke up with that weight pushed to the back of my head. No time for mourning on Mother's Day. Jeff and I were getting ready to head out and swap the boys for the girls. They all love taking their turns at Grandpa and Grandma's house.
I felt off. Down. I didn't realize where that feeling was coming from at first, ironically enough. I hopped in the shower and it all hit me like a ton of bricks. I started sobbing. All of those hopes, dreams, plans... all of that joy washed down the drain as I shed those tears my eyes so desperately needed to cry.
I gave myself an internal pep talk and got dressed. Then I cried again. Pulled myself together, began doing my makeup... cried again. You get the idea. Every little step I took to get ready was a challenge. How was I going to face the day without looking like a complete basket case?
Jeff offered to take the boys and grab the girls himself, but I didn't want to be home alone with my toddler and my tears on Mother's Day. Today was supposed to be a joyous day. My family was celebrating me... they were loving on me. They were spoiling me. I couldn't get in their way! ;)
I put on my best fake happy face and we drove out to our regular meeting spot. We were a bit late, as you can imagine... what with all the crying I did while trying to get ready. I can't believe I didn't have raccoon eyes. That in itself was a complete miracle.
I tried to be the "me" my parents knew me to be. I tried to not let the kids see how low I was. I don't feel that I did a very good job at hiding my hurt, but no one said anything, so I suppose I'm a better actress than I give myself credit for!
Later, Jeff, the girls, Wesson, and I went to the park. I insisted. I wanted to walk the trails. I wanted to take my frustrations out on the pavement and gravel. I wanted to move past this the best way I knew how. I wanted to stop kicking myself for taking that test on Friday instead of waiting 'til Saturday. I wanted to forget what really couldn't be forgotten.
Some may be surprised at how devastated I was. I surprised even myself...not so much that I was feeling the loss, but more at how deeply I felt it. I am still having trouble with it, especially in the quiet of the night, after all of my other blessings are tucked away in their beds.
There are many who don't become attached so early on. I don't understand that. I don't condemn it at all, I just don't know how they do it... part of me wishes I could figure that out myself. I love fast and hard... and with that comes all the more hurt and heartache in situations like this. You may think I'm too sensitive... and maybe you're right... but I do believe that grief is real... grief is agonizing... and I believe it is important to give in to the grief, at least for a time.... or it could swallow you whole when you least expect it.
I'm sharing my story because I want to be a voice for those who feel that the world is telling them their grief or sadness is unjustified for whatever reason. Whether my pregnancy test was a false positive... or I had a life inside me (I truly, with all of my being, believe this was the case), it was painful to lose that.
No baby cries will pierce the air in our home next January. No ultrasounds, diapers, cuddles, or kisses for that precious little life. Life was here, then vanished... as if it never was. YES.... that "clump of cells" was a life. Don't tell me otherwise. That poppyseed of a baby was precious, valuable, worthy of love and real enough to me... and that is all that matters.
I can't begin to wrap my mind around how devastating it must be to miscarry further into the pregnancy. To have visible evidence of your precious child... a child that can be touched and held.... oh, my heart breaks for the mamas who have experienced such an incredible loss.
Don't ever dismiss someone's feelings. Don't ever tell them their grief, heartache, or pain isn't justified.... what you may think of as no big deal, might just be a damn big deal to another. Offer your love and support to those who are hurting... whether that is just a shoulder to cry on, an ear to hear, or a simple and sweet "I'm praying for you." You don't have to fix them. You don't have to understand. You just have to love that person enough to care and acknowledge that they need your support... whatever that looks like.
Thank you for listening to my heart. I appreciate your prayers. If you are experiencing any sort of heartache, please don't hesitate to reach out. I would be honored to pray with you, or just listen to you share your feelings with me. Be blessed friends, and be that blessing to your loved ones, always.
~Em
P.S. I have only told a couple people about this. It isn't something I feel I can share too many times. It's still too fresh and painful right now. So please forgive me if you're hearing this for the first time. I hope you understand and don't take offense. <3
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