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Rochester Local

Truths About Pregnancy and Having A Baby After A Miscarriage

this post was originally published on October 15, 2016.

The truth is that one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage. This is a staggering statistic, yet miscarriage is so rarely talked about. My husband, Matt, and I learned on our first wedding anniversary that we were expecting our first child. About a month later, on September 11, we heard the earth-shattering sound of silence that broke our hearts. After our miscarriage and learning of this statistic, I made it a point to not be silent about our loss. I wanted others to know that despite a short life here on this earth, this baby mattered so deeply to us. I wanted others to know that if they lost a baby, they were not alone, that they had someone walking alongside them, because the truth is that experiencing the aftermath of a miscarriage can feel so lonely.

The frustrating truth is that getting pregnant again after a miscarriage can be hard, or easy. But for us it was hard. We wanted another baby right away, but my body was trying to heal at the same time, so healing took priority over my heart’s desires. And with each month, I felt betrayed by the moon and a crimson reminder that brought back unwanted memories of our dreadful September 11.

The bitter truth is that I spent the weeks and months after our miscarriage convincing others I was okay because most of them were being polite in their questioning, and very few people wanted to know the truth.

Did they really have time to hear that my heart was still so very shattered? That everything continued to hurt months after it happened? Then came the questions from unsuspecting, well-meaning strangers about why we didn’t have children yet and when Matt and I were thinking of starting a family. How were they supposed to know, right? Even after Gracelyn’s birth when I’m asked how many children I have, deep within me I want to say two — one in heaven and one in my arms — but that would make most people uncomfortable, so I say she’s my first.

 

The plain truth is that when you finally get pregnant again, pregnancy after a miscarriage is hard. If the physical changes of pregnancy didn’t bring enough difficulties, the daily mental and emotional challenges were often overwhelming for me. I had horrible morning sickness for much of my pregnancy, but I would rather have experienced morning sickness over and over again than experience the recurring nightmares I had that our baby would die. Each day, I had to retrain my brain and emotions to not think that I would lose our baby again. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of joys and moments of grace, but it was hard.

The forgotten truth is that the grief from miscarriage comes and goes. I once read a quote by Vicki Harrison that explained grief so well: “Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it’s overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” The joy, relief, exhaustion, [insert all emotions here] we experienced since Gracelyn’s birth have been thankfully more prevalent than grief, but there will be moments when I hear a song I resonated with after the miscarriage, or when I drive by our old townhouse, or I watch a movie where a woman miscarries, that the grief returns. I’ve learned not to run from it though, but to stop and feel it, then keep moving.

The blaring truth is that the fear of loss will always stay with you.  I think as a parent, that fear exists in some part of your brain, but I think it’s more true for those parents who have lost their children. One way that fear manifested itself in my life was after Gracelyn’s birth. All of a sudden, I came to this bizarre realization that I trusted our friends and family with my life, but I had a hard time trusting them with her’s. I was afraid that their actions — a mishap in the way they held her or the germs they would unknowingly bring with them — would cause her death. Rarely was our daughter out of my sight. I didn’t care if I didn’t get enough sleep; I had to make sure we wouldn’t lose her.

The undeniable truth is that I have gained a closer intimacy in my relationship with God. When I lost my child, I experienced the same type of loss He did. I knew that in those many, many nights I spent awake, sobbing, He knew my pain. And I know that He restores and makes things new.

My truth is that I have learned gratitude through all of the struggles we experienced with our miscarriage and now having our daughter in our arms. I know some people never get to experience this. I don’t believe that I would have this gratitude if we had not gone through what we went through: the trials, the joys, the love, the loss, the renewed hope with our second pregnancy, the incessant fear of another miscarriage. Then the long, strenuous labor, exhaustion, the uncertainty, and finally holding her in my arms — one of the best moments of my life. I understand and I see now that if it wasn’t for all that I experienced, this joy and gratitude would not adorn my mantel in the same regard.

If you have experienced a miscarriage, I am deeply sorry for your loss. My heart aches with you. When you are ready, I encourage you to share your truths with someone you trust.

(For those of you who have experienced miscarriage or stillbirth, Rochester MN Moms Blog has a special place on our site to honor the memory of our little ones.) 

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As it is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day today, Rochester MN Moms Blog acknowledges that each woman who has experienced loss has a unique and very personal story.  Some choose to share; some stay silent.  Here are some of the previous posts on Rochester MN Moms Blog about pregnancy loss and miscarriage. miscarriage and how to show your friends grace in the process

“Our house was filled with flowers, cards and food from the many people who showed their support after our miscarriage. My phone was lighting up with texts and phone calls from friends and family. But, in the midst of all this love, I also needed to feel, show and see grace.”

pieces of me my miscarriage story

“The thing about miscarriages is that they’re not uncommon. They’re not taboo. And most importantly, they’re not your fault. Or my fault. Or anyone’s fault. But that doesn’t really mean much to someone who’s experienced one because ultimately, it’s losing a piece of yourself.”

the-verbiage-of-miscarriage

Miscarriage.”  The prefix “mis” means “wrong, wrongly, incorrectly.”  When you look at the word this way, it places immeasurable guilt on a woman, who already may or may not feel guilt to begin with.   I didn’t do anything incorrect or wrong.  My child just failed to develop.  But the very word has guilt embedded into it.”Women and man holding cups of coffee with heart shape symbol on a wooden background“I found myself searching for other moms who shared my story. I wanted to be reassured I was not alone in my pain, that there were others who had felt the vulnerable hurt of pregnancy-loss. My grieving heart yearned for a friend who would listen with compassion, patience, and understanding.”

infant loss, 2nd trimester loss, pregnancy loss, birth defects, hydrocephaly, october infant loss, grief, grieving, hard choices infants, rochester, rochester mn, roch mn, rochester minnesota, minnesota

Losing a child leaves a deep scar on your soul. A scar that lessens with time but never completely fades. The emotional pain may decrease but the soul is never the same.”

 

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