Anyway, we too lost a baby. We were due on Jim's 29th birthday: April 10, 2012. As fate would have it, we only enjoyed that little life for a few weeks and lost the baby just prior to 7 weeks. If you want the back story you can read it here: Roch: A Little Life and can follow the posts after to see how it all played out. Talking and talking and talking was my therapy and some of that involved my blog.
This isn't a subject I talk about much now, but not because it's painful or makes me uncomfortable. I will freely talk about it , but it doesn't come up much because it's just not a subject that people wear on their sleeves. It's not something that easily comes up in conversation and it's not something visible, so it flies under the radar. It bears a weight behind the scenes.
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My weight isn't a painful one. But let me explain and remember.
Elizabeth was 13 months old when we got the news that we were expecting again. It was a bigger gap than ever before: 21 months this time, but was still a big pill to swallow as it meant we would have 4 kids under FIVE. We accept God's spacing of our kids, but after 3 kids close in age, a 4 following close, too, demands a lot of trust. It is hard to completely trust so we stressed and struggled and ultimately we felt the blessings that come with a new baby and we accepted. As the weeks went by, I still felt good. I even said to Jim that I wondered if something was wrong because I tend to feel bad, and feel bad early. My gut was right. One Sunday morning, just shy of 7 weeks, I started bleeding. It wasn't the type where you could stay hopeful or wonder. It was just over. I went to church anyway that morning, because what good would staying at home do? I fielded calls from my OB outside Mass. It was surreal. I never broke down and cried. I clicked into "go" mode and walked through the motions. That's how I cope. I'll shatter after the dust settles.
Ultimately, while I never did feel dreadful sadness, but I definitely mourned that loss. I named him (I picked a gender because there was no way of knowing) and we slowly moved on. Approaching various dates (the date of my first ultrasound and the due date, mostly) was hard. Seeing a friend have her little one weeks after I should have had mine, was difficult. But overall, I felt like it was a venture in growth. I now know what it is like to start to grow a life and then lose it. I know what it's like to have a baby in Heaven who is being an advocate for the rest of us. If you can let you mind go there, that is the most amazing part in this.
Let me elaborate a minute... I fully believe that my baby went straight to Heaven. I fully believe I had a life within me a real, human life who passed on. Like any of the people who get into Heaven, my baby became a Saint. Saint's advocate for those on Earth. You don't pray to Saints, but you can basically ask them to take something to God and plead your case. It's kinda like when you know a higher-up in a company. If you ask the head boss yourself, you have that normal amount of consideration, but if you have the higher-up ask, you have a bit more sway. So it's amazing to think that Roch is watching our family and advocating for the graces and blessings we need down here. That's pretty amazing and most certainly is the silver lining.
And I do miss him. Without that miscarriage, I wouldn't have Emily and I do view my miscarriage as part of God's plan, but I don't disregard that baby. I fully feel like he (or she) is part of our story and is one of my kids, just like the others. That baby just holds a different significance... that baby is there but not here, if that makes any sense at all.
If the miscarriage never happened, he would be about 21 months old. I look at babies/toddlers around that age and smile, wondering to myself what my baby would look like, what personality they would have, and what milestones we would be hitting. But it's not sad. That baby had a different role in our lives. I'm more compassionate than I was before. I view pregnancies as a gift and not a given. And my thoughts on human life have completely evolved. I always believed that life started from the get-go and I know that the heart starts beating at 5 weeks. My babies were always my babies as soon as I tested positive, but having a baby start that process and not get to continue on, like the others, gave me a profound respect for the pregnancy process and all that my body and their little bodies do to grow and prepare for birth. It's really amazing.
I still think of Roch and I still carry him in my heart. At the time of my miscarriage, my mom did probably the best possible thing for me: she told me to pick out something, anything, to remember that baby by. And I did. I picked a silver cuff bracelet that was engraved on the inside. On the outside it's plain. I haven't taken that bracelet off since September 2011 when it arrived. I feel like it's my way of keeping that baby with me, my way of holding on, and my link to that time and that baby.
And ultimately, as much as a miscarriage royally sucks for so many reasons, there is a peace that comes afterwards, if you can let it find you. That life lives on, just in a much more perfect place. I feel content that I was part of that baby's story. It just ended differently than my others. That baby went from warm warm happy womb life to life in Heaven, which isn't a bad course if you ask me. And I get to wonder and remember and appreciate all the blessings (kids) that are given to me to keep, at least for the time being. :)
If you have never suffered a loss, be kind to those who have. I'm at peace with our little angel, but it stings very deep for some. Each loss is significant and special and mourned. God does have a plan, but it's not always a comfortable one. Be kind, respectful and don't judge.
If you have lost a baby, I'm so sorry. I know how much your peanut meant to you.
How very softly
you tiptoed into my world.
Almost silently;
Only a moment you stayed.
But what an imprint
Your footprints have left
On our hearts.
--Author Unknown
***I just want to add, I won't pretend to know what it is like to never go on to have living children, or to miscarry further along, or to birth a baby who is born still, or to lose an infant or child. Woo! I'm sure there is a sadness and grief that is exponentially greater than what I experienced. My heart truly goes out to anyone who has lived through those circumstances.***
1 comment:
Prayers! Thanks for sharing - I'm glad you're talking about it.
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