It takes a lot for me to go silent on social media… to almost completely cut myself off from the outside world. Some of you have been wondering why I have been so quiet. Maybe I’ve responded to your posts in some capacity, but I haven’t made any of my own in several days.
Honestly? It’s because I didn’t know what to say. How am I supposed to tell people that we are suffering through a miscarriage and that I am no longer pregnant?
I’m writing this because the truth is… I know I have some friends who have experienced miscarriage, but none of them have ever really talked to me about it. It’s a feeling you couldn’t possibly imagine without going through it, but I wanted to at least try to explain where I’m at in my head right now in hopes that you can gain some sort of understanding.
I didn’t sleep well Wednesday night. I tossed and turned for over 5 hours. I was exhausted… but I couldn’t seem to sleep. After finally getting some rest, I woke up feeling… not right. I wasn’t sick or hurt… I just didn’t feel right and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
That’s when the bleeding started. And no, I don’t mean the spotting I have done nothing but worry about for 2 weeks. I’m talking bleeding heavy enough to be considered a period. One trip to the bathroom and I knew it in my heart… I was losing our baby.
I tried to be brave about it. I was home alone. Jeremy was at work and was already nervous about applying for a position at Google again. I didn’t want to upset him and ruin his day in case everything was fine. But by the time he got home from work, I was sure of it… we weren’t going to be parents.
As the evening progressed, I found myself going to the bathroom a lot – not because I needed to use it, but because I couldn’t stop checking. I became almost obsessed with how heavy the blood had become and the bits of tissue that accompanied it. At what point would I lose him? Would I even notice? Am I going to accidentally flush our baby down the toilet?
Jeremy and I have spent hours crying. I’ve only seen Jeremy cry once before in the 4 years we’ve been together. He’s taking the loss very hard although I know he’s trying to be strong for me.
I’m… not doing well. I’ve spent countless hours asking myself:
- What did I do wrong?
- Did I do everything I could?
- Did I deserve this?
- How do I tell people?
- When do I tell people?
From a logical standpoint, I know that there’s nothing more I could have possibly done. But this miscarriage has left me feeling like a failure… like I’m such a bad mom that I couldn’t even manage to keep a baby alive long enough to see it born.
In a matter of 2 short weeks, I loved this baby fiercely… in a way that almost scares me. We named the baby (or at least we chose name options). We made plans for the baby. We bought things for the baby. I excitedly took 6 pregnancy tests… in awe that the baby existed at all. I spent some days bundled up on the couch watching Handmaid’s Tale, crying, promising the baby better. I started making stuff for the baby’s room. I talked to the baby knowing fully well they couldn’t hear me yet.
I sound ridiculous. But seriously, it took no time at all for me to fall so in love with this baby… a baby that was made by two people with so much love who were so excited about growing a family together after so many years of trying.
I’ve cried until my body can’t even produce more tears.
I’m grieving the loss of our baby… the one we’ll never get to hold… never count his toes… never smell his hair… never see him smile… all the things I’ve imagined for us for years and for a brief amount of time, thought we would get to have. It’s all just… gone.
Maybe we were foolish to tell everyone about the baby so soon. We had no idea how far along I was when we found out and I admit, it was really early to tell anyone. But not telling people wouldn’t have made this hurt any less, and at least this way… you know, and we all got to celebrate and love this baby as much as he deserved.
I’m expecting a range of responses to this. Some people will respond with silence, unsure of what to say. That’s okay… you don’t have to say anything. Most of you will tell me that you’re sorry for our loss. Some of you will think this is all ridiculous and won’t understand that we’re grieving. All of that is okay. All of those are valid.
Just know that for now… No, we’re not okay. I know we will be eventually. But for today, we’re not. We don’t need anything. No, I don’t want to be surrounded by friends and family right now. I don’t need or want hugs. I need time. I need to be alone. Jeremy may feel differently and he will handle this grief in his own way – whatever he chooses for that to be.
Effective immediately, my business is shut down. I just… I can’t. Not right now.
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