Yesterday marked one year since we lost our little Appleseed. Tonight I was telling Ryan everything I could remember about that day. Of course, I became emotional. In an attempt to brighten the mood, he said something like, "Look where you are now!"
That is true. We are weeks (or maybe even days) away from meeting our little girl. Anyone who knows me, spends time with me, or reads this blog understands how grateful I am for this blessing.
But one does not replace the other, and I still feel sad when I think of the teeny tiny life we lost one year ago. I just wanted to say in all the excitement of the new life that will be joining us, I have not forgotten the one we lost last September 9th.
Showing posts with label Pregnancy Loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnancy Loss. Show all posts
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Appleseed’s Due Date
In September 2010 we lost our little Appleseed, our first pregnancy. At some point, during the bliss of the positive pregnancy results, I had googled my due date. I knew it wasn’t ‘official’ until the doctor confirmed it, so I didn’t pay much attention to the specific date other than to note it was right near Mother’s Day.
How perfect, I thought. After 7 years of waiting (exactly), I find out we’re expecting on our anniversary with a due date near Mother’s Day. Life couldn’t be better.
A week or so later, the world came crashing down, and that date I googled became a distant memory.
On Mother’s Day, I thought about our Appleseed. I wondered what that day would have been like if he or she had made it. Would I have a brand new baby? Or would I be waddling along, praying for labor to begin?
There were a few friends and a couple acquaintances that became pregnant at the same time I did. Over the past couple of weeks, I have seen their birth announcements, new baby pictures, etc. I think about our Appleseed and it makes me sad and wistful. He or she would have been here by now too, right? I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t want to know Appleseed’s due date prior to that day. I can’t explain why. But as I watched my last friend give birth to her May baby, I figured it was time. Last night, I again googled my due date: May 12th, last Thursday.
I am so grateful to have Katelyn at this time in my life. She does not replace our Appleseed, just like she doesn’t take away the pain of losing Andie. I love all my babies. But it is such a comfort to have Katelyn with me, to touch my belly and know that one of my babies is still here and, Lord willing, I will be able to mother her in person in only 4 more months.
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Update on Katelyn's heartbeat: It is still skipping beats, although sometimes more frequently than others. I was able to get an appointment with Nurse G tomorrow morning.
How perfect, I thought. After 7 years of waiting (exactly), I find out we’re expecting on our anniversary with a due date near Mother’s Day. Life couldn’t be better.
A week or so later, the world came crashing down, and that date I googled became a distant memory.
On Mother’s Day, I thought about our Appleseed. I wondered what that day would have been like if he or she had made it. Would I have a brand new baby? Or would I be waddling along, praying for labor to begin?
There were a few friends and a couple acquaintances that became pregnant at the same time I did. Over the past couple of weeks, I have seen their birth announcements, new baby pictures, etc. I think about our Appleseed and it makes me sad and wistful. He or she would have been here by now too, right? I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t want to know Appleseed’s due date prior to that day. I can’t explain why. But as I watched my last friend give birth to her May baby, I figured it was time. Last night, I again googled my due date: May 12th, last Thursday.
I am so grateful to have Katelyn at this time in my life. She does not replace our Appleseed, just like she doesn’t take away the pain of losing Andie. I love all my babies. But it is such a comfort to have Katelyn with me, to touch my belly and know that one of my babies is still here and, Lord willing, I will be able to mother her in person in only 4 more months.
-------------------------
Update on Katelyn's heartbeat: It is still skipping beats, although sometimes more frequently than others. I was able to get an appointment with Nurse G tomorrow morning.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Mother's Day - Do you know the secret?
Do you know the true origin of Mother's Day?
I do.
I read it last night.
This was not a day to celebrate mothers, as noble a cause as that is.
This day was started in 1870 by women who had lost their sons in the Civil War.
Mother's Day was started by bereaved mothers.
It was a a peaceful call to action for women to protect children everywhere. The real feelings of this day started with pain, loss and grief. The *mothers* were honoring their *children*, and each other.
Now we have the 'Mother's Day' we all know. Somewhere in all the celebration, women who are enduring the original feelings of this holiday... pain, loss grief... are pushed aside by many and told that mothers 'deserve to be honored because they work so hard', while their turn to be recognized has to wait until someone calls them "mom", if that day ever comes.
I acknowledge this day for everything it has become, but also for everything it originally was. The women who started this tradition would not want me to simply prop myself up on pillows and wait for my breakfast in bed. They would also want me to seek out and remember those who are bereaved. Those women suffering the loss of a child (born on earth or in utero). Women grieving the loss of their mother. Women walking through the darkness that is the loss of babies they will never know. That 'reaching out' is what this day was all about.
Today, I honor my mom, my sister, my nieces, my friends, any woman who fulfills the original call to reach out to each other and protect a child. I remember those for whom this day is difficult, and I lift them up. Because that, my friends, is what Mother's Day is really all about.
"I will celebrate with you, if you first mourn with me. It is the combination of the two that lends itself to the true meaning of Mother's Day!"
- pregnancylossribbons.blogspot.com
I do.
I read it last night.
This was not a day to celebrate mothers, as noble a cause as that is.
This day was started in 1870 by women who had lost their sons in the Civil War.
Mother's Day was started by bereaved mothers.
It was a a peaceful call to action for women to protect children everywhere. The real feelings of this day started with pain, loss and grief. The *mothers* were honoring their *children*, and each other.
Now we have the 'Mother's Day' we all know. Somewhere in all the celebration, women who are enduring the original feelings of this holiday... pain, loss grief... are pushed aside by many and told that mothers 'deserve to be honored because they work so hard', while their turn to be recognized has to wait until someone calls them "mom", if that day ever comes.
I acknowledge this day for everything it has become, but also for everything it originally was. The women who started this tradition would not want me to simply prop myself up on pillows and wait for my breakfast in bed. They would also want me to seek out and remember those who are bereaved. Those women suffering the loss of a child (born on earth or in utero). Women grieving the loss of their mother. Women walking through the darkness that is the loss of babies they will never know. That 'reaching out' is what this day was all about.
Today, I honor my mom, my sister, my nieces, my friends, any woman who fulfills the original call to reach out to each other and protect a child. I remember those for whom this day is difficult, and I lift them up. Because that, my friends, is what Mother's Day is really all about.
"I will celebrate with you, if you first mourn with me. It is the combination of the two that lends itself to the true meaning of Mother's Day!"
- pregnancylossribbons.blogspot.com
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Andie and Appleseed
Like many women who have lost a baby due to miscarriage, I often wonder how the eternal perspective comes into play in situations like these. There are a lot of opinions about when the spirit enters a body. I have heard it’s at the moment of conception, when the heart beats, or when a baby takes his or her first breath. Some people have said that these miscarried babies return as other babies at a later time. It’s hard to know what to believe.
My gut has always told me they are individual spirits, that life begins at conception, and that my babies won’t return as other babies. I have had some personal experiences that have helped me feel this way.
Recently, I watched a video and read the story of a little boy who claims he saw heaven. He was close to death for 17 days when he was 4 years old. Once he had recovered, he began to talk about the things he had seen while he was so ill. Many of the things he had seen were shocking to his parents, as they were situations he had no prior knowledge of and couldn’t have known. For example, he was able to describe exactly where his dad was praying during the boy’s surgery. When asked how he knew this (as not even the boy’s mother knew where the dad was at this time), the boy simply said during that time he was sitting in Jesus’ lap, watching his father pray. There were several examples of this.
Personally, the most touching part of his experience is described in the following narrative from The Today Show:
"The real shocker came when Colton told his mother, “Mommy, I have two sisters.” Sonja told her son that he had to be referring to his oldest sister, Cassie, and his cousin Traci, but he responded: “No — I have two sisters. You had a baby die in your tummy, didn’t you?”
Sonja told Matt Lauer (who was conducting the interview) the family had never uttered a word about the miscarriage to Colton — and what’s more, they never even learned the sex of their miscarried child. “It was a private hurt that we didn’t even share with our friends,” Sonja said, adding Colton’s revelation was at first “shocking, but then a relief that she’s OK, which we didn’t know she was a she.”
In a subsequent TODAY segment Monday, Sonja filled in Colton’s description of his meeting with his sister: “He told us what she looked like, and she wouldn’t stop hugging him. And she doesn’t have a name.”
“When he told us about his sister in heaven, that we hadn’t told him about, [it was] another one of those ‘holy cow’ moments — OK, he can’t make this stuff up, he can’t invent this; no memory was planted,” Todd told Lauer. “But the peace that came over us, and the healing, like, ‘Wow, I have a daughter in heaven waiting for me’ — I think a lot of people need that type of hope and healing, too. And I think that’s what a lot of people are finding when they hear Colton’s testimony, to know what they have to look forward to.'"
When I saw the video, and read this narrative, I cried for a long time. To some, this may just be a silly child’s story, but to me this gave me so much hope. I have always felt that my children lost to miscarriage were special spirits, and even a glimmer of hope that I might meet them someday is comforting. The thought that we could have celestial children waiting for us is overwhelming. It brings so much joy and peace.
To watch the interview and read the full narrative, CLICK HERE.
Read about Appleseed
Read about Andie
My gut has always told me they are individual spirits, that life begins at conception, and that my babies won’t return as other babies. I have had some personal experiences that have helped me feel this way.
Recently, I watched a video and read the story of a little boy who claims he saw heaven. He was close to death for 17 days when he was 4 years old. Once he had recovered, he began to talk about the things he had seen while he was so ill. Many of the things he had seen were shocking to his parents, as they were situations he had no prior knowledge of and couldn’t have known. For example, he was able to describe exactly where his dad was praying during the boy’s surgery. When asked how he knew this (as not even the boy’s mother knew where the dad was at this time), the boy simply said during that time he was sitting in Jesus’ lap, watching his father pray. There were several examples of this.
Personally, the most touching part of his experience is described in the following narrative from The Today Show:
"The real shocker came when Colton told his mother, “Mommy, I have two sisters.” Sonja told her son that he had to be referring to his oldest sister, Cassie, and his cousin Traci, but he responded: “No — I have two sisters. You had a baby die in your tummy, didn’t you?”
Sonja told Matt Lauer (who was conducting the interview) the family had never uttered a word about the miscarriage to Colton — and what’s more, they never even learned the sex of their miscarried child. “It was a private hurt that we didn’t even share with our friends,” Sonja said, adding Colton’s revelation was at first “shocking, but then a relief that she’s OK, which we didn’t know she was a she.”
In a subsequent TODAY segment Monday, Sonja filled in Colton’s description of his meeting with his sister: “He told us what she looked like, and she wouldn’t stop hugging him. And she doesn’t have a name.”
“When he told us about his sister in heaven, that we hadn’t told him about, [it was] another one of those ‘holy cow’ moments — OK, he can’t make this stuff up, he can’t invent this; no memory was planted,” Todd told Lauer. “But the peace that came over us, and the healing, like, ‘Wow, I have a daughter in heaven waiting for me’ — I think a lot of people need that type of hope and healing, too. And I think that’s what a lot of people are finding when they hear Colton’s testimony, to know what they have to look forward to.'"
When I saw the video, and read this narrative, I cried for a long time. To some, this may just be a silly child’s story, but to me this gave me so much hope. I have always felt that my children lost to miscarriage were special spirits, and even a glimmer of hope that I might meet them someday is comforting. The thought that we could have celestial children waiting for us is overwhelming. It brings so much joy and peace.
To watch the interview and read the full narrative, CLICK HERE.
Read about Appleseed
Read about Andie
Sunday, February 20, 2011
First Trip to the OB
Friday was very emotional. There were a lot of good things, but some hard parts as well.
I chose Dr. M to be my OB because a friend recommended him, and happened to mention he had gone through infertility. Once I heard that, I was SOLD! I wanted a doctor who was empathetic to pregnancy after infertility, which I am learning is much different than a regular pregnancy.
Ryan didn't come with me to this appointment. He had worked the night before and, since there was no ultrasound planned and I wouldn't even meet the doctor this time, I told him to stay home and sleep.
I showed up at Dr. M's office and filled out all the preliminary paperwork. My first appointment at that office was mostly a consultation with his nurse practitioner, Nurse G. She was very nice... calm, laid back, motherly. After several minutes of chatting, she asked to confirm I was a twin pregnancy. I told her I wasn't sure; I didn't know. Last I had seen, Beanie looked great, but Andie was too small.
Nurse G immediately said she'd find a room and we'd do an ultrasound. She said there was no way she would let me wait another two weeks (when I was supposed to have my next appointment) to know what's going on. She tried to use the abdominal ultrasound, but couldn't see clearly enough. She mentioned we would have to do a vaginal ultrasound instead and left the room so I could get undressed.
When she came back, Dr M was with her. He sat down in the chair, looked me in the eyes and said,
"In January, my wife and I had a baby. This baby was the result of IVF with Dr. S (my RE). When my wife first got pregnant, we had an ultrasound and saw 2 babies. At first I was thinking, 'Oh my gosh, we're going to have twins!' and I freaked out a little. Then, over the next couple weeks, I fell in love with both babies and became very excited. At our next ultrasound, we saw that one of the twins had left us. So please believe me when I say I *know* how rough it is to lose a twin. I *know* the strange mix of emotions and everything that accompanies it. (His eyes misted up.)Having said all that, let's take a look."
I laid back and we began the ultrasound. We saw Beanie with a beautiful strong heartbeat. Pretty quickly after that we saw what was left of Andie... smaller sack, tiny embryo, no heartbeat. Dr. M confirmed that this twin was gone. Tears began rolling down my cheeks and immediately Nurse G was there by my side, blotting my tears and handing me a tissue.
I sat up and Dr. M began to describe what happens now... He said I need to recognize the loss. It's okay to cry and be sad; that doesn't mean I'm not grateful for the other thriving baby. He said I may cramp and spot. He said my chance of total miscarriage does increase slightly and asked what I would do if I lost both babies, because it's always good to have a Plan B, just in case (I think I'd try again, BTW). He said that, although the chance of miscarriage goes up, it is much more likely Beanie will be born healthy and just fine, so I need to rely on that for comfort.
Dr. M said Andie wouldn't have felt any pain. Her heart just slowed down, and eventually stopped. She wouldn't have felt fear or anything like that. Even though I knew these things, they were comforting to hear.
I asked if Beanie looked good, to which Dr. M replied, "Yep! But let's look again!" I laid back down and he focused in on Beanie this time. Beanie had grown so much, even in just a few days. He or she even has a little 'baby' profile now, which was so wonderful to see.
I am still considered "high risk", which means extra screening and ultrasounds. This coming week, I'll have a more in-depth ultrasound at an imaging center. Next week, we'll meet with Dr. M again and go over those in-depth ultrasound results.
When Dr. M left the room, he told me to take my time... I was welcome to stay there as long as I wanted, or to call my husband from there in the office if I wished. He also offered to get me a glass of water or anything I needed. He then said if I told anyone he got teary eyed when he was talking to me, he'd deny it. He has a reputation to keep! ;)
It all seems touch-and-go right now, but I try to have faith. We have had 3 ultrasounds and in all of them Beanie has been growing and thriving. I have to believe that will continue. To lose one twin is heartbreaking, to lose both would be devastating.
I am SO very grateful I found Dr. M. In the limited amount of time I spent with him (and Nurse G), I felt heard. He validated every one of my feelings and concerns. If I had to go through that experience, I am glad it was with a doctor who was so empathetic and caring.
I chose Dr. M to be my OB because a friend recommended him, and happened to mention he had gone through infertility. Once I heard that, I was SOLD! I wanted a doctor who was empathetic to pregnancy after infertility, which I am learning is much different than a regular pregnancy.
Ryan didn't come with me to this appointment. He had worked the night before and, since there was no ultrasound planned and I wouldn't even meet the doctor this time, I told him to stay home and sleep.
I showed up at Dr. M's office and filled out all the preliminary paperwork. My first appointment at that office was mostly a consultation with his nurse practitioner, Nurse G. She was very nice... calm, laid back, motherly. After several minutes of chatting, she asked to confirm I was a twin pregnancy. I told her I wasn't sure; I didn't know. Last I had seen, Beanie looked great, but Andie was too small.
Nurse G immediately said she'd find a room and we'd do an ultrasound. She said there was no way she would let me wait another two weeks (when I was supposed to have my next appointment) to know what's going on. She tried to use the abdominal ultrasound, but couldn't see clearly enough. She mentioned we would have to do a vaginal ultrasound instead and left the room so I could get undressed.
When she came back, Dr M was with her. He sat down in the chair, looked me in the eyes and said,
"In January, my wife and I had a baby. This baby was the result of IVF with Dr. S (my RE). When my wife first got pregnant, we had an ultrasound and saw 2 babies. At first I was thinking, 'Oh my gosh, we're going to have twins!' and I freaked out a little. Then, over the next couple weeks, I fell in love with both babies and became very excited. At our next ultrasound, we saw that one of the twins had left us. So please believe me when I say I *know* how rough it is to lose a twin. I *know* the strange mix of emotions and everything that accompanies it. (His eyes misted up.)Having said all that, let's take a look."
I laid back and we began the ultrasound. We saw Beanie with a beautiful strong heartbeat. Pretty quickly after that we saw what was left of Andie... smaller sack, tiny embryo, no heartbeat. Dr. M confirmed that this twin was gone. Tears began rolling down my cheeks and immediately Nurse G was there by my side, blotting my tears and handing me a tissue.
I sat up and Dr. M began to describe what happens now... He said I need to recognize the loss. It's okay to cry and be sad; that doesn't mean I'm not grateful for the other thriving baby. He said I may cramp and spot. He said my chance of total miscarriage does increase slightly and asked what I would do if I lost both babies, because it's always good to have a Plan B, just in case (I think I'd try again, BTW). He said that, although the chance of miscarriage goes up, it is much more likely Beanie will be born healthy and just fine, so I need to rely on that for comfort.
Dr. M said Andie wouldn't have felt any pain. Her heart just slowed down, and eventually stopped. She wouldn't have felt fear or anything like that. Even though I knew these things, they were comforting to hear.
I asked if Beanie looked good, to which Dr. M replied, "Yep! But let's look again!" I laid back down and he focused in on Beanie this time. Beanie had grown so much, even in just a few days. He or she even has a little 'baby' profile now, which was so wonderful to see.
I am still considered "high risk", which means extra screening and ultrasounds. This coming week, I'll have a more in-depth ultrasound at an imaging center. Next week, we'll meet with Dr. M again and go over those in-depth ultrasound results.
When Dr. M left the room, he told me to take my time... I was welcome to stay there as long as I wanted, or to call my husband from there in the office if I wished. He also offered to get me a glass of water or anything I needed. He then said if I told anyone he got teary eyed when he was talking to me, he'd deny it. He has a reputation to keep! ;)
It all seems touch-and-go right now, but I try to have faith. We have had 3 ultrasounds and in all of them Beanie has been growing and thriving. I have to believe that will continue. To lose one twin is heartbreaking, to lose both would be devastating.
I am SO very grateful I found Dr. M. In the limited amount of time I spent with him (and Nurse G), I felt heard. He validated every one of my feelings and concerns. If I had to go through that experience, I am glad it was with a doctor who was so empathetic and caring.
Dear Andie,
Some people probably think I am weird for writing you a little letter, but I don't care. I am writing this for you, but I think it's mostly for me.
I just wanted to say that I was so excited when I found out I was expecting twins. From the beginning, it looked as though you might not make it, but I always felt comfort that it would all turn out alright. I thought that meant you'd be joining us in September, but now I know it was just my Heavenly Father offering comfort to get me through the hard times to come.
When I saw that you had left us, I felt so many different emotions... guilt that maybe I had done something wrong, sadness at your loss, fear for Beanie. I mourned you. I never thought of you as simply a "vanishing twin". I saw your heart beat. I know you were a person.
"A person's a person no matter how small."
I have not and will not forget you. When people act like you didn't exist, I correct them, or at least acknowledge you in my thoughts. Some day when Beanie is born, I will think about you, and how you were almost a part of our family on earth too.
I don't know how it all works, whether I will get a chance to be a mommy to you and little appleseed someday, but I wanted to say I enjoyed being your mommy while I had that blessing and I love you very much.
I just wanted to say that I was so excited when I found out I was expecting twins. From the beginning, it looked as though you might not make it, but I always felt comfort that it would all turn out alright. I thought that meant you'd be joining us in September, but now I know it was just my Heavenly Father offering comfort to get me through the hard times to come.
When I saw that you had left us, I felt so many different emotions... guilt that maybe I had done something wrong, sadness at your loss, fear for Beanie. I mourned you. I never thought of you as simply a "vanishing twin". I saw your heart beat. I know you were a person.
"A person's a person no matter how small."
I have not and will not forget you. When people act like you didn't exist, I correct them, or at least acknowledge you in my thoughts. Some day when Beanie is born, I will think about you, and how you were almost a part of our family on earth too.
I don't know how it all works, whether I will get a chance to be a mommy to you and little appleseed someday, but I wanted to say I enjoyed being your mommy while I had that blessing and I love you very much.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Quick Update
Just wanted to post that Andie didn't make it. :( Beanie is still hanging in there.
Thanks to everyone who kept us in your prayers. I'll update more later. It's been kind-of an emotional day!
Thanks to everyone who kept us in your prayers. I'll update more later. It's been kind-of an emotional day!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
I don’t belong here…
I joined one of those mommy-to-be message boards. I needed an outlet during all these weeks of “secrecy”. Although it has been helpful hearing other people’s experiences and learning what I am feeling physically is “normal”, I have come to realize I just don’t belong.
The women on the board are very sweet. In their defense, if I didn’t spend years giving blood, sweat and tears for this pregnancy, I could imagine myself saying some of the same things they do. Maybe…
But I just can’t help feeling like a few of them will never, ever fully comprehend the beautiful gift they have been given. Many of them received this gift without any effort on their part. Some of them received the gift without even desiring it.
I think it’s true... Infertility changes who you are forever. It never goes away.
The women on the board are very sweet. In their defense, if I didn’t spend years giving blood, sweat and tears for this pregnancy, I could imagine myself saying some of the same things they do. Maybe…
But I just can’t help feeling like a few of them will never, ever fully comprehend the beautiful gift they have been given. Many of them received this gift without any effort on their part. Some of them received the gift without even desiring it.
I think it’s true... Infertility changes who you are forever. It never goes away.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
It Comes and Goes
Last night I was skimming my FB homepage when I saw an old friend’s recent status update… Only 1 more week and we see what gender the baby will be!
This friend is pregnant, due in May, just like I was.
Grief from the miscarriage is always there, although the intensity comes and goes. You are walking around and coping fine when suddenly…BAM. It’s right there in your face again.
After 7 years of waiting, I found out I was pregnant on our Anniversary and had a due date of Mother’s Day. It couldn’t have been more perfect. And in a flash it was gone. This baby, our little appleseed, is gone. And that’s it. Just like that.
I want to be in that place again. I want that baby. Even if I am blessed to become pregnant again at some point, I will always want that baby.
I don’t think that feeling goes away.
Ryan was perfect… he didn’t say much… just kissed my face and held me.
This friend is pregnant, due in May, just like I was.
Grief from the miscarriage is always there, although the intensity comes and goes. You are walking around and coping fine when suddenly…BAM. It’s right there in your face again.
After 7 years of waiting, I found out I was pregnant on our Anniversary and had a due date of Mother’s Day. It couldn’t have been more perfect. And in a flash it was gone. This baby, our little appleseed, is gone. And that’s it. Just like that.
I want to be in that place again. I want that baby. Even if I am blessed to become pregnant again at some point, I will always want that baby.
I don’t think that feeling goes away.
Ryan was perfect… he didn’t say much… just kissed my face and held me.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
What To Say To Someone That Has Experienced The Loss Of A Baby...
Christine has been a huge support for me throughout this long struggle. Her recent blog post really resonated with me. I have experienced both sides of many of these scenarios, and I firmly agree with her assessment.
What To Say To Someone That Has Experienced The Loss Of A Baby...
Authored by
ORIGINAL POST
What To Say To Someone That Has Experienced The Loss Of A Baby...
Authored by
ORIGINAL POST
Experiencing the loss of a baby is something I know all to well. Before I had Conner I experienced a miscarriage. Then there was Conner. Hayden was actually a twin and I lost that baby in the first trimester. Then there was the miscarriage last year, followed by a chemical pregnancy (which yes I do count it) and then the miscarriage at the beginning of the year. It's not that I am keeping track or am trying to say, "Yeah, I have had it bad." I'm not. I know of others that have experienced many more miscarriages. It's just my way of letting you know that I have learned a few things along the way. Although I have not experienced a failed adoption, I do view them as one and the same...and imagine the feelings are the same. You may have to alter the phrases below just a bit...but really you get the idea.
I really feel that miscarriages and failed adoptions are very much looked over in today's society. With my miscarriages the feelings I felt were just as intense and devastating as loosing someone that I had known for years. Which is confusing to many. How can a person feel such a loss of someone they don't know? I too have asked myself that question. The thing is for women, I believe that we are so connected to that life. As soon as we hear that someone is to be in our care we naturally feel deeply for them. We have to be, that's why we are the caretakers and the nurturers of the family unit. When that loss comes we not only loose that child physically, we also loose all of those hopes, plans and dreams. The future seems very dark and we want to go back to the time when that little someone was in our life again. It's all so confusing and the pain is very deep, As a result, there will be some that just don't know what to say... and in their efforts to help they may say something offensive without even knowing. I do believe that there are good things to say and better things to say when it comes to the loss of a baby. That is what I want to focus on in this post!!
1.
For example: One may hear the phrase, "I'm sorry to hear that you have miscarried." or "I'm sorry you lost your baby." or "I'm sorry your placement failed." Every time someone said that to me my heart dropped and was crushed. Deep down I felt it was because of MY BODY that the child couldn't thrive. To hear the words, "you miscarried" or "you lost your baby" was just a confirmation to me that what I felt was true. It was my fault and that was salt to injury.
The Truth: Miscarriages happen regardless of everything we do in our power to prevent it. I could mention all of the statistics but I won't. The thing is, after much thought and prayer I KNOW that these little ones receive a body once conception is made. Seriously, the more one learns about all that it takes for a woman to conceive, the more one would naturally realize the complete miracle of it all. It's just that SO much has to happen. Everything has to be perfect and in a perfect order. It's amazing that anyone has babies at all!!! Obviously there is a divine intervention there. Just as a spirit enters, if it needs to only be here on earth for a short time, then that is it's purpose and it's need. We so often forget that we only see one side of the show. There are many more things we have yet to learn and realize, including that of the going-ons on the other side. Quite often, I feel that these little spirits only stay for the short time they need. Then Heavenly Father needs to call them back for other important tasks. These lost babies are so pure and so valiant. They don't need the experiences and trials of life. Instead, they are able to go onto the other side. Cheering and guiding their family here on earth until the end of their journey. It's their mission among other things and it's SO easy to forget that. So miscarriages and lost babies are out of our control. Believe me, if a child is meant to be here on earth, he or she will be. I know this from experience. I believe the same is true of a child placement. If that child is meant to be apart of your family circle, he or she will be.
So, the better response would be: "I'm sorry to hear the loss of your baby." or I'm sorry to hear the adoption didn't go through."
2.
Instead of using the phrase: "You're young, you have plenty of time to get pregnant again." or "Maybe this means you need to change your plan and try to get pregnant instead of adopt." A better phrase would be, "I have hope for you and your husband, hang onto that hope as well." We can't receive personal revelations for others. The individual must receive that for themselves. Plus, personally when a person told me I was young and had plenty of time I wanted to bawl and throw a very impressive tantrum right in front of them! Lets be honest, when a woman experiences a loss, she is not thinking rationally- not to mention hormones may be at play as well! For me it was a time game. All I could think of was, "It took me 4+ years just to get pregnant. What if I have to wait another 4+ years just to get pregnant again....and what if I miscarry then? Will I have to wait another 4+ years...." and then THAT led to, "What if I never have children." That never having children part was just too much to bare at the time... and that is what made me want to throw a tantrum! On another note, the whole "getting pregnant again" phrase seemed to encourage the replacement of the child I had lost. Even though I didn't know him or her, that someone to me was precious not replaceable...and still isn't replaceable all of these months & years later.
3.
Steer clear of: "At least you know you can get pregnant now." or "At least you were chosen, that's good news." Honestly, this didn't mean diddly to me. What's the point of getting pregnant or being chosen if a child, the most desired thing, was not the end result? Nope, this wasn't helpful at all. Just avoid that subject all together! Honestly, I have dealt with getting pregnant and miscarrying AND I have dealt with not being able to get pregnant at all. I would MUCH rather prefer the latter. It's such a heart wrenching thing to be SO CLOSE just to have it fall through. To me that was always an extra punch and harder to work through. To loose Conner however is another subject...but still the phrase is not appropriate!
4.
Some may try to mirror their experiences onto those that have experienced loss. I know people mean well, but sometimes, just sometimes tactfulness is left at the front door! When I was suffering a miscarriage I did find it helpful for others to share their experiences, but for the most part, it was so flustering when some would turn my pain into their pain...and soon I was comforting them. At times it was almost as if they were telling me stories to make my experience seem lighter and less traumatic. It was all done in pure honesty of course but at the time, how I was feeling, I needed to be allowed to grieve how I wanted....and not feel guilty that "so and so had it so much worse." I had lost a baby and that was real to me. I have also had women say to me, "I know exactly how you feel. I'm here to listen." That was the best thing in the world. They understood and they were offering help...but only on my terms. Just remember if a woman wants to hear of an experience, she will ask, if not, she's simply not ready...or wants to.
5.
On the opposite end there are those that just don't get it and say things like "Awe man" or "Oh No! That's terrible" or "Shucks, I'm so sorry to hear that." It's not like we have simply burned dinner or use the wrong cookie recipe....we lost someone. A much better phrase would be: "I really don't know how you feel, but I do care about you. I want to help you in any way you need." Also, one may not know what to say and ignore it all together. That's the worst thing one can do. To ignore it implies that the person doesn't care AT ALL. Instead, just be open and let them talk when and if they need.
6.
Also, putting a time limit on a grieving person is a huge mistake. Just because a person is trying again or several months have passed, doesn't mean they have fully healed. If they need to talk, let them talk for as long as they want...even if it is months later. For me, it always got worse as time went on. I would trap myself into the what if and if only stage....you all remember! I would just keep thinking, "I could have been such and such weeks by now. Or my baby would have been born today." It's an awful, awful thing to do. I advise not to do it...but it is hard!! People all heal differently and at different times. For some it may take longer than others. Be patient and never tell them to "Get over it" or "You need to move on." They will when they are ready. Usually for most, talking it out is the best way of getting there.
7.
One last piece of advise!! Some are so curious and have that itch to ask month to month if anything has "happened" yet or they have been chosen yet. It's o.k. in some cases such as close, dear friends and such...but please use your best judgement if you are one of these special cases. It's one thing to lose a baby...but a whole other when the pressure is on. To know that everyone is watching and taking notes is so stressful. As time goes on, it can also become embarrassing and add to depression. I for one did not like being watched...or talked about as if I was some form of entertainment. That was just one more thing I found myself needing to cope with that I shouldn't have needed to.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Today...
October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, a time to promote awareness for those who are suffering or may know someone who has suffered a miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy, a still birth, or the loss of an infant.When I had my miscarriage, I was amazed by how many women contacted me who had also experienced miscarriages. Most of them contacted me privately, through emails or quiet conversations.
What amazed me even more were the stories I heard and the emotions that still surfaced in these women, even 30 years later for some. They spoke about the sadness and longing that was still a part of them. They spoke about feeling alone, and about husbands who couldn’t understand their grief. It was an eye-opening experience.
It is sad how alone these women feel, when in reality there are so many of us. What saddens me more are people who think that miscarriages happen to so many women, it must not be that big of a deal.
But it is huge. It is huge because it is the loss of life, the loss of a dream, and (for a period of time) the loss of hope. It is the loss of what once was, what could have been, and what will never be. Personally, it was the loss of a happiness and a fulfillment that was 7 years in the making. It was devastation.
Fortunately, I am of the mindset that my baby had a spirit. And whether he or she returns in this life or the next, I will hold my little “appleseed” someday, and that baby will be perfect.
I can only speak about miscarriage. I can’t imagine the heartache that comes from the loss of an infant. I hold those families close to my heart today.
So for all those women out there who are suffering in silence and anonymity, I wanted to say that you are not alone in your grief. I am crying with you and for you, and remembering your precious babies today.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Give 'er Some Credit!
Sometimes my body surprises me.
The last four weeks have been somewhat of a waiting game. After the miscarriage, we waited for the next cycle to begin on its own. The longest month of my life, literally. About two weeks ago, I thought we had made it, cramps and all. It was only about two weeks since the miscarriage, but I had been warned that my next cycle could come at any time.
I called the doctor's office as instructed and made an appointment for the next day. By the time I showed up to my appointment, it was gone, and a quick ultrasound proved it. (Thank you to Nurse H for not charging me, saving us $100. :))
After 2 more false starts, I was getting frustrated. Throughout this time, I was told if I didn't start on my own by October 14th, I would have to take Provera (strong progesterone) for 10 days and force myself into a period. I really didn't want to do that.
Finally, it came on its own. And, if you were to consider the miscarriage as my last "cycle", it was only 1 day late.
Sometimes, I don't give my body enough credit. I think of it as "broken", because of the unexplained infertility.
Then I have to remember... Although I may not be able to conceive for some unknown reason, my body is healthy, functioning, and can do a lot of things on its own, including bounce back quite quickly from a pregnancy loss (I wish the emotional side was that easy!). Not everyone can say that, and I should be grateful for the body I have.
Wow, a whole post dedicated to my monthly visitor. Never thought I'd see the day. :P
The last four weeks have been somewhat of a waiting game. After the miscarriage, we waited for the next cycle to begin on its own. The longest month of my life, literally. About two weeks ago, I thought we had made it, cramps and all. It was only about two weeks since the miscarriage, but I had been warned that my next cycle could come at any time.
I called the doctor's office as instructed and made an appointment for the next day. By the time I showed up to my appointment, it was gone, and a quick ultrasound proved it. (Thank you to Nurse H for not charging me, saving us $100. :))
After 2 more false starts, I was getting frustrated. Throughout this time, I was told if I didn't start on my own by October 14th, I would have to take Provera (strong progesterone) for 10 days and force myself into a period. I really didn't want to do that.
Finally, it came on its own. And, if you were to consider the miscarriage as my last "cycle", it was only 1 day late.
Sometimes, I don't give my body enough credit. I think of it as "broken", because of the unexplained infertility.
Then I have to remember... Although I may not be able to conceive for some unknown reason, my body is healthy, functioning, and can do a lot of things on its own, including bounce back quite quickly from a pregnancy loss (I wish the emotional side was that easy!). Not everyone can say that, and I should be grateful for the body I have.
Wow, a whole post dedicated to my monthly visitor. Never thought I'd see the day. :P
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Longest Month of my Life
So far, this has been the longest month of my life.
I am not exaggerating or being over-dramatic. I have never felt time crawl by as slowly as it has in the last fourteen days.
Ryan and I were talking about the next cycle, and he asked when it might start. I told him, best case scenario, I could start in 2 weeks. Even he was shocked that we still have at least two more weeks before we could possibly do anything to work towards our family again. As I said, time just crawls now.
I try not to recognize every lost milestone (today I would have been 7 weeks... I would have started showing by my birthday... I would have been 4 months at Christmas...). I try not to memorialize each sad memory (it’s been 2 weeks since we found out we lost the pregnancy... it’s been 10 days since I started bleeding...).
It’s hard, but I try.
I am not exaggerating or being over-dramatic. I have never felt time crawl by as slowly as it has in the last fourteen days.
Ryan and I were talking about the next cycle, and he asked when it might start. I told him, best case scenario, I could start in 2 weeks. Even he was shocked that we still have at least two more weeks before we could possibly do anything to work towards our family again. As I said, time just crawls now.
I try not to recognize every lost milestone (today I would have been 7 weeks... I would have started showing by my birthday... I would have been 4 months at Christmas...). I try not to memorialize each sad memory (it’s been 2 weeks since we found out we lost the pregnancy... it’s been 10 days since I started bleeding...).
It’s hard, but I try.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
True Happiness
This morning I was talking with my mom on the phone. Out of the blue she asked, “Are you happy?”
I was surprised by her question, and responded, “Me? You’re asking me if I’m happy?” It just seemed like a random question, out of nowhere.
In a flash, I thought about all the wonderful things I have in my life… An awesome husband, caring family, great friends, the comfort of religion, the cutest kitties around, a nice home, a good job, and the list goes on.
But am I happy? I answered her with a yes. But there is a caveat…
I am happy, but now I know how happy I could be, which makes my current state hard to bear.
After 7 long, agonizing years, I experienced one week of blissful happiness. Suddenly, all that was taken away.
The blessing is that I can finally say I know true happiness. The curse is how much I want it back.
I was surprised by her question, and responded, “Me? You’re asking me if I’m happy?” It just seemed like a random question, out of nowhere.
In a flash, I thought about all the wonderful things I have in my life… An awesome husband, caring family, great friends, the comfort of religion, the cutest kitties around, a nice home, a good job, and the list goes on.
But am I happy? I answered her with a yes. But there is a caveat…
I am happy, but now I know how happy I could be, which makes my current state hard to bear.
After 7 long, agonizing years, I experienced one week of blissful happiness. Suddenly, all that was taken away.
The blessing is that I can finally say I know true happiness. The curse is how much I want it back.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Tomorrow
And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.
Mosiah 24:14
Tomorrow morning at 9:30am, we were supposed to see our baby's heartbeat. Every time I think about that, my heart breaks a little. I am grateful that my boss scheduled a staff meeting for tomorrow, so I won't be staring at the clock thinking about what might have been. I am even more grateful that I found out the baby had stopped growing prior to tomorrow's appointment. As devastating as it was to get that phone call, finding out in the doctor's office would have been even harder.
I am saying extra prayers tonight that tomorrow goes by quickly.
Ryan had a dream today that I was pregnant again. I asked if we were nervous or scared in the dream and he said no. We were happy.
Mosiah 24:14
Tomorrow morning at 9:30am, we were supposed to see our baby's heartbeat. Every time I think about that, my heart breaks a little. I am grateful that my boss scheduled a staff meeting for tomorrow, so I won't be staring at the clock thinking about what might have been. I am even more grateful that I found out the baby had stopped growing prior to tomorrow's appointment. As devastating as it was to get that phone call, finding out in the doctor's office would have been even harder.
I am saying extra prayers tonight that tomorrow goes by quickly.
Ryan had a dream today that I was pregnant again. I asked if we were nervous or scared in the dream and he said no. We were happy.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Beautiful
Ryan's step-mom shared this beautiful quote with me tonight, and I can't get it out of my head:
Where there is life, there is hope.
Where there is life, there is hope.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Time Out
It’s been one week since I got that awful phone call. I can honestly say it’s been the longest week of my life.
We are blessed to have so many people who love and care for us. Many people have called, emailed, or left comments. I am so grateful. If there is one thing I can say, I don’t feel alone in all this. A lot of women do, so I am very blessed.
Some people have asked what they could do to help. I know if I was watching someone I love go through this, I would want to do something, find some way to cheer them up or help them forget.
Honestly, I think I need more time. I know it’s selfish, but I just want to crawl in a hole somewhere and hibernate for a while. That is what feels good right now. And all I want to do is something that feels good, anything that takes some of the pain away.
I know many, many women experience miscarriages. I’ve heard from a lot of you who have. I know some of you think I should just put on a brave face and jump back into life. Thank you for encouraging me to do so (including my hubby, who sweetly suggested a vacation). I look forward to the time I can. But every person is different, and this was devastating to me. I waited 7 years to see those 2 lines, got one week to live in paradise, and then had my entire world crash down. I need time. I wish I was stronger, but I want to be realistic about where I am now. And this is where I am.
We are blessed to have so many people who love and care for us. Many people have called, emailed, or left comments. I am so grateful. If there is one thing I can say, I don’t feel alone in all this. A lot of women do, so I am very blessed.
Some people have asked what they could do to help. I know if I was watching someone I love go through this, I would want to do something, find some way to cheer them up or help them forget.
Honestly, I think I need more time. I know it’s selfish, but I just want to crawl in a hole somewhere and hibernate for a while. That is what feels good right now. And all I want to do is something that feels good, anything that takes some of the pain away.
I know many, many women experience miscarriages. I’ve heard from a lot of you who have. I know some of you think I should just put on a brave face and jump back into life. Thank you for encouraging me to do so (including my hubby, who sweetly suggested a vacation). I look forward to the time I can. But every person is different, and this was devastating to me. I waited 7 years to see those 2 lines, got one week to live in paradise, and then had my entire world crash down. I need time. I wish I was stronger, but I want to be realistic about where I am now. And this is where I am.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Where Can I Turn for Peace?
I did not make it to church today. I was tormented about whether to go because I knew it's where I needed to be, but facing people today seemed too hard. I haven't been in public (or even left my home really) in 3 days.
Fortunately, as I was trying to decide what to do, God showed me a little mercy and the miscarriage began on its own.
I am grateful for that, as it seems I avoided a D&C (surgery where they basically scrape the uterus). A D&C is rough anyway, and because I am over-sensitive to anesthesia it would have been even tougher. Usually, a D&C is necessary for women who are further along in their pregnancy, but I had been warned that some women on Prometrium need to have them too, even if they lose the pregnancy early.
Because I was missing church, I tried to find some way to feel spiritual today. I was hoping it would help bring me some peace. I pulled out my copy of "Fertile in our Faith", an infertility book written from a LDS perspective. I read the whole book, reading the portion on pregnancy loss twice. I was looking for something (anything!) that could bring me comfort.
The pregnancy loss chapter focused on learning to 'release the hug'. It is said that when a child hugs you, never be the first one to release that hug; always hold on until the child lets go first.
In the book, the author relates this to pregnancy. Pregnancy is your opportunity to "hug" your child and, just as it is outside the womb, you should never be the first to let go. The author encourages the reader to enjoy pregnancy, savor those moments, and hold on to hope.
That is one thing I can say about my brief time in pregnancy, I hugged our baby. Although I was nervous and scared of losing the pregnancy, we still savored each moment we had in that state. We celebrated, gave prayers of gratitude, and spread that happiness to others around us who wanted it almost as much as we did. Not for one minute did I begrudge anything about that experience: the waiting it took to get there, the pregnancy symptoms I was having, the overwhelming feeling that life was going to change. I held onto our baby as hard and as tight as I could. It ended up not being enough, but I tried 100%.
The author goes onto say, if the time does come that your baby releases the hug, it is helpful to acknowledge the loss in a tangible way. This is true even for people like us, who lose their baby so early in the pregnancy. It was a relief to read this because I hadn't really given myself permission to do that. I felt silly, like our baby wasn't "real" enough yet to other people for us to grieve over.
There were suggestions in the book on how to acknowledge the loss. None of them seemed quite right for us, so I researched around a bit more and found something that felt good. This brought me some comfort.
One thing I have learned the last few days is how fleeting those moments of peace and comfort really are. Seems I mostly just try to make it from one peaceful moment to the next, without falling apart in between. But this morning I had the opportunity to feel comforted for quite some time, and for that I am grateful.
----------------------------------
Where, when my aching grows,
Where, when I languish,
Where, in my need to know,
Where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand
to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.
Fortunately, as I was trying to decide what to do, God showed me a little mercy and the miscarriage began on its own.
I am grateful for that, as it seems I avoided a D&C (surgery where they basically scrape the uterus). A D&C is rough anyway, and because I am over-sensitive to anesthesia it would have been even tougher. Usually, a D&C is necessary for women who are further along in their pregnancy, but I had been warned that some women on Prometrium need to have them too, even if they lose the pregnancy early.
Because I was missing church, I tried to find some way to feel spiritual today. I was hoping it would help bring me some peace. I pulled out my copy of "Fertile in our Faith", an infertility book written from a LDS perspective. I read the whole book, reading the portion on pregnancy loss twice. I was looking for something (anything!) that could bring me comfort.
The pregnancy loss chapter focused on learning to 'release the hug'. It is said that when a child hugs you, never be the first one to release that hug; always hold on until the child lets go first.
In the book, the author relates this to pregnancy. Pregnancy is your opportunity to "hug" your child and, just as it is outside the womb, you should never be the first to let go. The author encourages the reader to enjoy pregnancy, savor those moments, and hold on to hope.
That is one thing I can say about my brief time in pregnancy, I hugged our baby. Although I was nervous and scared of losing the pregnancy, we still savored each moment we had in that state. We celebrated, gave prayers of gratitude, and spread that happiness to others around us who wanted it almost as much as we did. Not for one minute did I begrudge anything about that experience: the waiting it took to get there, the pregnancy symptoms I was having, the overwhelming feeling that life was going to change. I held onto our baby as hard and as tight as I could. It ended up not being enough, but I tried 100%.
The author goes onto say, if the time does come that your baby releases the hug, it is helpful to acknowledge the loss in a tangible way. This is true even for people like us, who lose their baby so early in the pregnancy. It was a relief to read this because I hadn't really given myself permission to do that. I felt silly, like our baby wasn't "real" enough yet to other people for us to grieve over.
There were suggestions in the book on how to acknowledge the loss. None of them seemed quite right for us, so I researched around a bit more and found something that felt good. This brought me some comfort.
One thing I have learned the last few days is how fleeting those moments of peace and comfort really are. Seems I mostly just try to make it from one peaceful moment to the next, without falling apart in between. But this morning I had the opportunity to feel comforted for quite some time, and for that I am grateful.
----------------------------------
Where, when my aching grows,
Where, when I languish,
Where, in my need to know,
Where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand
to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
I am struggling...
On top of all the emotions of the last couple days, I am struggling to make sense of something far more deep than I can explain... but I guess I'll try.
I have always believed that embryos are life. They are sacred. This I know. The question I keep asking myself is, when conception occurs, does that embryo already have a spirit?
In other words, were the few weeks that this baby spent inside my womb considered his or her journey to earth, and sufficient enough for God's purposes? Part of the reason for life is to gain a body and be tested. Well, my baby never really got a body. But did he or she have a spirit?
I don't think anyone out there truly knows the answer. I know I sure don't. I'm not asking for anyone to speculate or give opinions, I'm just trying to make sense of all this. All I know is that deep down inside, I loved this embryo like a child, and the loss is overwhelming. I'm sure most people wouldn't consider me a "mother", but I know I feel the emotions of one. I have never felt my heart break like this.
I read this poem a while back. Every time I read it now, I cry. I wonder if it applies to me. Is this baby a real spirit waiting for me on the other side? Or did this baby not live long enough to gain a spirit? This question just torments me. I wish I knew the answer...
------------------------
I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.
"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"
"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."
"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and
cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.
"I wish I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child's smile,
With all the other children and say...
'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.
I feel so lucky to have a Mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My Mommy set me free.
I miss my Mommy oh so much,
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
Mommy don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here.'
"So you see my dear sweet ones,
your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.
They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
they'll be at the gates for you.
So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
it's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.
I have always believed that embryos are life. They are sacred. This I know. The question I keep asking myself is, when conception occurs, does that embryo already have a spirit?
In other words, were the few weeks that this baby spent inside my womb considered his or her journey to earth, and sufficient enough for God's purposes? Part of the reason for life is to gain a body and be tested. Well, my baby never really got a body. But did he or she have a spirit?
I don't think anyone out there truly knows the answer. I know I sure don't. I'm not asking for anyone to speculate or give opinions, I'm just trying to make sense of all this. All I know is that deep down inside, I loved this embryo like a child, and the loss is overwhelming. I'm sure most people wouldn't consider me a "mother", but I know I feel the emotions of one. I have never felt my heart break like this.
I read this poem a while back. Every time I read it now, I cry. I wonder if it applies to me. Is this baby a real spirit waiting for me on the other side? Or did this baby not live long enough to gain a spirit? This question just torments me. I wish I knew the answer...
------------------------
I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.
"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"
"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."
"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and
cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.
"I wish I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child's smile,
With all the other children and say...
'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.
I feel so lucky to have a Mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My Mommy set me free.
I miss my Mommy oh so much,
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
Mommy don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here.'
"So you see my dear sweet ones,
your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.
They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
they'll be at the gates for you.
So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
it's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.
Infertility and Dessert
Thanks to a friend for reminding me our dessert will come someday. I've officially tasted the chocolate cake, and it was promptly taken away. Now I know that pain, but I also know the joy. I need to just trust in the baker...
Waiting for Dessert
by Christine Dallimore
Waiting for Dessert
by Christine Dallimore
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