Loss #1: Grief and all that jazz...

I think, before I get into the meat of my newest post, I need to clarify a couple of things. First of all, I absolutely LOVE my doctor and am not upset with her whatsoever for sending me to Emergency when I was in the middle of my first miscarriage. That loss was most likely inevitable and any other treatment probably would not have changed the outcome. Second, I think I may have come off as a little harsh and self-fulfilling with all the comments about my care. Not that I know anyone that just loves hospital visits, but I literally almost go into a panic attack when I have to step foot inside the revolving doors. Not only that, I didn’t (and still don’t, really) know how to handle the fact that I was not able to carry God’s most precious gift to birth. The best way I knew how to heal, and the best way I know how to describe my emotions at that time, is through sarcasm. I’m sorry if I offended anyone, but as I have said before, this is a taboo topic and I have yet to come across a handbook on how to handle this type of situation. I’m doing the best I can….

Now, back to the reason I am writing this next entry….”healing” with the loss of baby #2. In the hours and days following my first miscarriage, I literally ran the gamut of emotions: disappointment, anger, sadness, embarrassment, fear of the unknown, etc. I had only known a handful of people who had experienced that type of loss and they tried to help the best they could (thank you, by the way…you know who you are!). However, no matter how much you talk to someone else who can sympathize with your situation, you are not going to feel better. I think it’s best to get that straight right now! For most people, this is an unimaginable experience. Not only that, it’s safe to say that I had a Superman mentality when it came to the loss of a child…”That will NEVER happen to me!”

I have the WORLD’S BEST husband (I know, I know…at some point, we probably all say that), but in this case, I couldn’t imagine having gone through all of this with someone else. After everything, there is no doubt in my mind that God hand-picked Mike for me. Why am I telling you all this?! Well, because what I am about to tell you may shock you, and please, don’t hold it against him. Mike wasn’t exactly “there” for me after our first miscarriage. In retrospect, I can understand why: Mike was only 22 when Harper was born; he was terrified to become a parent but parenting fit him like a glove the minute she was born. Because the time span from the positive pregnancy test to the miscarriage was only seven days, he didn’t exactly have time to get super excited about this pregnancy and bond with me and the baby as he had while I was pregnant with Harper. While the loss of baby #2 shocked him, he didn’t really know how to handle everything because, let’s face it, dads don’t always bond with baby during the pregnancy. How can they?! We, as moms, bond the minute those two pink (or blue) lines show up on the test; it takes longer for dads. Mike is a realist….he started to get excited for our first baby when he saw an ultrasound first hand and heard a heartbeat. Without that chance with baby #2, it wasn’t that real to him. 

So….he went to work the morning after our fateful visit to the hospital and CPR training on Saturday (just 2 days after our Emergency Room visit).

Now, it would be dishonest of me if I told you that I wasn’t incredibly upset with my husband for leaving me in my time of need. On top of everything else I was experiencing emotionally, I felt completely alone in my grief. I mean, this was a child we created together, right?! After much consideration, and careful discussions with my loving husband, I now know why he wasn’t there: he couldn’t be. It was absolutely heartbreaking for him to see me cry for hours on end and not eat for days. Not only that, he had made his peace with the situation and with God that night in the hospital. He was afraid that if he stayed home with me, while I was healing, he would start undoing everything he had already done. He would essentially become a blubbering hot mess much like myself. It took me a LONG time to accept that; it took a lot of heated discussions and soul searching on my part, but eventually, I was okay with the fact that he left me alone to handle my feelings.

I know what you’re thinking….I must be a crazy woman to be okay with that….well, I just might be. But I also knew that I would survive this and so would my marriage. I had to let go of the things that I could (i.e. Mike’s way of healing), and take care of the things that I couldn’t let go (i.e. How could this have possibly happened to me?!). I needed to prioritize…#1 was making sure that I could still go on and be the best mother I could to the beautiful blessing God had already given me. #2 was making sure that I took care of me and did whatever was necessary to help me heal. So, I let go of the anger I had toward my husband and accepted the fact that I wasn’t the only one that had experienced this loss and he found a way to grieve and let go of the things that were out of our control.

So, on to my healing. I went back to work on Monday, just four days after receiving the most devastating news to date. Why, you ask? The wallowing in self pity and laying on the couch, while it felt okay, was getting me nowhere. If I didn’t get up off the couch two things were going to happen: #1-I was most likely going to slip into a state of depression and #2-there was going to be a “Sam”-shaped body print in the cushions. Neither of those sounded like fun to me. So, I picked myself up by my bootstraps, so to speak, and headed off to work. Was it easy? Absolutely not! I was faced with a roomful of children who were all healthy enough to be sitting before me and I couldn’t bring another healthy child into the world.  Doesn’t that sound terrible?! I felt AWFUL each time I thought it, however, I promised to be honest when I started this blog and that’s as honest as it gets.  I found one thing to be true: the busier I was, the less my mind wandered to what I had lost. If you were to go back now and ask my teaching team about the first few weeks after my return, they would probably tell you I was a powerhouse and moving every second I was at work. They would most likely also tell you that I took on a lot of responsibilities in those few weeks. I had no choice…I had to keep my mind busy, because when I didn’t….the waterworks would flow.

So, I would go into work each morning at 7:00 A.M. and leave at 5:00 P.M. utterly exhausted. I literally would try, in my ten hour work day, to absolutely exhaust myself so that when I got home I didn’t have the brain power or will to think. It didn’t work very well. As soon I as I got home, I would fulfill my wifely duties: cooking, dishes, laundry, bath, book, and bed time. But the minute Harper went down at 7:00 P.M., I was that hot mess from just a few days ago. I cried every night for weeks, until I finally had no tears left to cry. It was the only way I knew how to mourn the unexpected end to my second pregnancy. When that last tear fell, I knew it was God’s way of telling me “Don’t worry, I have this. Your baby is safe with me and you will one day meet him/her. Until then, pray, love, and live life as normally as you can. But, I’ve got this.” A weight was lifted and I felt as though I didn’t need to grieve anymore. I had lost 5 pounds, laid around, and cried enough to be able to live with what had just happened. I had also been forced to renew my faith in Him and know that He has a plan for all of us and this was just part of His plan.

In that instant, I thought of my Grandpa. For those of you that knew him, you know there was one thing that he cherished more than anything around him: his grandchildren. We were his world and he was ours. Grandpa passed away on my 21^st birthday, September 11, 2006. In that instant, when I cried my last tear, I thought of Grandpa. I thought of how excited he must be to have one of his great-grandchildren in Heaven with him. I saw him throwing him/her excitedly into the air, playing a game of catch, and fixing the seat on a bicycle. I knew I didn’t have to worry about my baby: he or she was perfectly fine and well taken care of by the man that I had loved so dearly for 21 years.

I think of that baby everyday. We are quickly approaching the one year anniversary of his or her passing. I often wonder what he or she would have looked like. Would I have given Mike a son or another daughter? What kind of person would he or she be? What kind of big sister would Harper have been? There are so many unanswered questions and unknowns. However, I made my peace with the situation some time ago and have to leave it at that. As of February 17, 2011, I was a mom of two children. I will never  NOT look at it as that. No matter what, that is my baby and my first guardian angel.

I think it’s best to leave it at that. Thank you, once again for reading!