Disclaimer: Trigger Warning
Since becoming pregnant and becoming a mama, I’ve learned about many different pregnancy “complications,” and things that can happen to your body or your baby during pregnancy. It’s funny how until you experience something, no matter how much you may think you know about a topic, you realize you have so much to learn or that there’s just so much more.
The easy things are always easy to share. Marriage, new baby, it’s a boy, it’s a girl, healthy pregnancies – these are the fun things to put out there. It’s the harder things, the things that scare you, the things that break you down, the things that you don’t want to believe have happened, that are a bit more challenging to share openly and that are sometimes pushed so far back that we almost act like they never did happened. If no one knows, it’s like it didn’t, right?
I’m almost embarrassed to admit that it wasn’t until after having Liam, that I even knew the meaning of a rainbow baby. Once I discovered what it did mean, my heart hurt for all of the mamas sharing about their rainbow babes. I know that many people experience loss everyday, many long to be mamas and struggle with conceiving or carrying to term, my heart breaks for every single one of them.
I also know how difficult it is to share our stories of loss so give so much credit to those who do, those who give hope, those who let others know that they’re not alone – you are stronger than you know and some have even lead me to to the keyboard today.
I’ve never openly spoke about my loss. I was pregnant for such a short amount of time and it was just a month later that I became pregnant with Liam. Now, I have 3 beautiful babies who were all born within 3 years of each other and God, am I blessed – I know this.
A part of me has been afraid to voice my early loss – do I have a right to, when I have 3 healthy kids and there are other women out there who so badly want one? Was it technically a loss since it was so early? These are just a few questions that have run silently in my head for a long time but they’ve also been pushed so far back, so far back that I’ve convinced myself that I’ve never miscarried.
In my latest pregnancy, I required monthly ultrasounds to monitor for uterine growth restriction due to a two vessel cord. At one appointment the ultrasound technician asked me which number pregnancy this had been (though she clearly had the information). This question had always made me pause. “Umm, my third, well I guess technically my fourth but I don’t think my OB has been counting my first.” (I see now how stupid and insensitive this sounds- even to myself) “No,” she replied, “it says here that this is your fourth.” I wanted to ask her why she asked if she already knew but what was the point?
Anyway, this struck me. Very few people knew I was ever pregnant and I was so broken over it that I never spoke a word of it. I lost a part of me over this loss – it was what made me anxious through every pregnancy, what caused me to let out a sigh of relief every time I’d hear or see a heartbeat.
At the time, I was newly married and all I wanted was to be a mommy. I tracked ovulation, I stocked up on pregnancy tests- this was the baby I prayed for and getting that positive was one of the happiest moments of my life. Because I was trying to get pregnant, I knew almost immediately when I missed my period and called my mom almost instantly – I was so excited. I called my OB the next day and with some help calculated how far along I was. They let me know that they don’t typically schedule until at least 6-8 weeks so we scheduled an appointment and I giddily got off the phone.
It was early but my family is very close and I was excited to share the good news with them.
I was waitressing at the time and I’ll never forget the panic when I went to the bathroom during my shift a few days later and was bleeding. I had a terrible feeling even though I knew some spotting was normal. I called my OB again but this time with a different tone, fearful of what I felt was happening to my body, to my baby. He assured me that some spotting is okay, to call again if it continued and increased.
It wasn’t long before I was sure that what I feared was in fact happening. I took another pregnancy test a few days later and it was negative. My heart was broken, crushed really. I was about 5 weeks pregnant. I was embarrassed, disappointed in my body, heartbroken – I think these are some of the reasons why I never shared what happen but as I sit here typing with tears welling up in my eyes, I realize how much it’s affected me all this time.
I now understand why rainbow babies are called rainbow babies and it makes perfect sense. After such heartbreak, Liam was definitely my rainbow, my sunshine that gave me the strength and hope to move on.
I like to believe God has a plan for each of us and I am so incredibly grateful for the plan He has created for me but that doesn’t lessen the pain that has been scattered throughout. I’ve also come to realize that just because I have 3 beautiful babies, that my miscarriage is no less than anyone else’s and feel that it’s important to share.
I’m sharing for the mama’s who are in my shoes, your loss is just as painful as anyone else’s, for the mama’s who may be where I was 4 short years ago, to give you hope and courage to hold on, for those who are afraid to speak up, who are feeling ashamed or embarrassed, for all the mama’s and their rainbows and for those praying so hard for their rainbow to arrive – you are so far from alone.
XO,
Work at Home Chaos 