1. Because breaking the silence of prenatal and neonatal loss is needed. It happens. Often and women need the ability to be supported, not live in silence and shame if it happens to them.
2. Not all loss stories are alike. I wrote about my 2011 loss in the following posts:
Roch, a little life - HCG - movin down - Finally Sad - Friends - Humble Blessings
This time was different than when I lost Roch (/rock/) and each woman everywhere will handle her loss differently. I want to share what that looked like for me.
3. Validity. When I write about what we have experienced, it makes it more real. It's easy to feel like "That didn't happen." especially with how early these losses were. However, they did happen and they are a part of our story. So I want to tell them... mostly for myself, my own heart, and my own path of healing.
Without further ado...
Part 1: Ruby
For many reasons, after Annie was born in 2014 we chose to have a gap before Conrad #6. We wanted more children, but needed to proverbially catch our breath. The break in the pregnant-nursing-pregnant cycle was good on many many levels for me. I fully healed and got my body back to myself. I became a doula in that time. I started to coach ice skating again. I found myself, which I had lost in the midst of late night feedings, tantrumming toddlers, piles of laundry and life with a husband working far away and in grad school. This time and space wasn't just good for me. It got our feet back under us as a family. We had 5 kids in 7 years. This pause was good.
When Annie turned 3 in 2017, we decided it was time for another baby. From shortly after her birthday until June of 2018, each month passed with no news. Months and months and months. Then, in July, I got a positive test.
I was OVER the moon. I mean, saying I was happy was a complete understatement. I fell hard and fast for this baby. Instant bonding. I was due April 7th. I pictured toting a teeny squish to baseball games and getting my footing under me as a new mom again at home before the kids were off for summer. I picked pregnancy and baby items out on Amazon and squirreled them away on my wishlist. I was so thrilled. Jim too.
I took a 4 week belly picture and then a 5 (nothing to see but I was overjoyed: document it ALL). I was already feeling tired and was anticipating morning sickness soon to hit.
While I was 5 weeks the kids and I took a trip to LBI with my parents. We stayed at Minerva's, a wonderful bed and breakfast. The week was really nice. We hit the beach and the bay, saw the lighthouse, listened to live music and just enjoyed each other.
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| I brought my vitamin load and yoga mat with me to keep up my "grow baby" routine! |
On August 8th, our third day wrapped up and my parents and I parted ways for the night. They were staying with my big 3 and I took my little 2 to my room for bed. After getting them to bed, I noticed spotting. I was 5 weeks and 4 days. Spotting can be normal, so at first I rationalized it and google was a good companion to give my reassurance and success stories too. But... I don't typically spot, so I settled into bed alone and scared, but still hopeful. Within a few hours, there was no denying that I was losing my baby. The worst part was that I was in a hotel room with zero supplies. No pads. I was crushed. I was alone. I was nervous. I emailed Jim at 1 am. I didn't want to wake him but I had to tell someone. That night was long, lonely, and sad.
Being that I am a bereavement doula, have gone through miscarriage before, and have done pregnancy 7 times to that point, I knew I was fine. I knew what was happening and what I needed to do, but it was the last thing I wanted to be going through. After some sleep, I laid in bed early that morning and saw a comment to a post on FB in an expecting group. It was a friend of mine. I added a new comment that I was losing my baby. This friend immediately texted me. There is no doubting that God had a hand in that moment. I laid there, so early in the morning, feeling daunted and overwhelmed. Her texts poured love and brought the first (of many) wave of tears and grief to me. I released and cried and felt so thankful that she was there and that her words were utterly perfect. I can't repay her for that gift of those texts that morning. She spoke to my soul.
Soon after that, Jim called me. I spoke to him on my 20 minute ride to CVS to get my miscarriage supplies. Jim was so supportive on the phone and prepared to help in any way I needed once I got home.
Next I had to tell my parents. That was the hardest. I wanted to crawl in a hole. How do I tell the people who love me most that I am hurting and going through something awful. Yet, I had to. They were there, one floor down, with three of my kids. Oof. I texted them and broke the news. I know it was awkward... how could it not. They had to face me immediately. They couldn't give short condolences over a text. They had to help me carry my cross that day and they did. Our day went well all things considered. Selfishly, I was annoyed that I couldn't be in the water with my kids. I wanted to be in my suit. I wanted to be in the waves. I wanted to be active and engaged, happy, instead my body felt like it wasn't mine. It was a vessel on a mission to remove my sweet baby who had been thriving days before (I surmise that because my symptoms dissipated over the day or two prior. I'm guessing that is when my levels dropped and the baby passed. Chicken or the egg, I don't know.)
Sitting in the sand, on the beach, I scrolled through baby names. This baby meant so very much to me he/she needed a name: now. I decided to do an R name since Roch was an R too. I scrolled through pages and Ruby jumped out at me. My sweet Ruby. I told the kids and we all began the path of healing.
And I felt so sad. I just felt broken. I wasn't angry. I wasn't bitter. I was heartbroken.
We headed home and the Friday consisted of phone calls into my OB, rhoGam shots and a blood draw. Also unpacking and unwinding from vacation. Saturday I got called to my August birth...
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| sad eyes... |
Once the dust settled and I was able to focus on myself, I threw myself into talking and sharing my heart with those few-closest-people. I also chose to do lots of journal writing and introspection. I went easy with myself and let feelings come and be felt. I allowed myself to go slow. I allowed myself to drop my normally go-go-go productive nature and just be. I allowed sadness. I allowed hurt. I allowed happiness and normal life too.
The kids had their own processing as well. The amount of compassion and care from them was wonderful. They took Ruby in as one of their own and we did a lot of talking. They knew I was sad and they threaded lightly in the times that I had to remind them of that. I knew that, if pushed, I would snap and yell and I didn't want to do that... I didn't want to rage at them just because my heart was sad. They did a good job and there are moments with them I will never forget.
We discussed what would happen next. Statistically babies conceived after miscarriage have such a high high chance of being healthy full term deliveries. Since it took almost a year of being open to a baby and 7 months of actually trying, we decided there was no reason to prevent a pregnancy. It could take a while and when it was our time again, we would accept it... I felt hope for the future and peace with my sweet Ruby watching over me.
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