Give Me All the Grace

I try to forget this day, yet simultaneously try not to forget it.

I've shared this story before, but every year it's just so bittersweet, I can't let it pass.

It's Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. 

Ironically, I had my miscarriage on October 15th 2017. I was 11 weeks and 6 days-- nearly out of my first trimester when the risk drops significantly. I had somewhat naively and somewhat arrogantly assumed it would/could never happen to me. I think we all think that. That it's all going to be perfect. But then it's not. And it's surreal. 

To this day, the thing I struggle with the most is guilt, on a few different levels. 

Initially, I felt guilty that I did something wrong. That also sounds cliche and naive because every OB will tell you (for every first trimester miscarriage) that you did nothing wrong. That it just happens. There's nothing you can do. Talk about helpless. Moms don't do helpless.

Spontaneous abortion. I hate that word. (That, and elderly multigravida). Did you know that's what they call a miscarriage? What an awful, ugly name with awful, ugly associations and in my circumstance a misnomer. It was not at all spontaneous. I knew it was coming (my ultrasound) and I couldn't do anything but wait and cry and pray and then it took dayssss. I felt guilty that I couldn't protect this baby I wanted so dearly. That's what moms do. And I failed her. 

Then as time passed I felt guilty for every feeling I felt. When I was happy or having fun, I felt like I moved on too quickly. Like I was cold or unfeeling or insensitive. What kind of mom doesn't endlessly, laboriously grieve her child? Of course that's not rational, but that's how I felt. If I cried or wallowed, I felt selfish. As I've said before, I know women and families who've lost near full term pregnancies or lost their child soon after delivery. Can you compare a miscarriage to that? Your bond and attachment grow and build as the pregnancy progresses so I felt selfish and ridiculous even maybe(?), grieving. But it's not about comparison. It's about your personal loss, the loss of your baby, that legitimate life and enormous potential, but grief doesn't fall in line with logic for some reason. So, I felt silly grieving my loss when I was pregnant for such a brief time. 

And then I got pregnant again. And I felt guilty for celebrating that. I felt guilty for carrying (Reese) when I couldn't sustain the previous pregnancy. I felt like I was betraying her. Forgetting her, forgetting what little I had to hold on to, the few devastating memories I had from that pregnancy. 

And the fear.

Even knowing the answer was "nothing", in the first trimester I asked what I could do, how I could make this "stick", how I could make this baby hold on. Worry and fear as a mom starts on day one of that positive pregnancy test and I'm told it doesn't end, even as they're (long) grown adults. Great. 

I have a friend that was due the same time I was (with Reese) and she lost her baby when we were around 24 weeks. I remember the overwhelming fear I felt walking into that first ultrasound after, laying there just trying to breathe, waiting while she typed things and pushed buttons and put on the gel and all I wanted was for her to just hurry up so I could hear that heartbeat and see the movement and know she was okay and the whole time trying (and failing) to fight back tears, and then she was. Perfect. And I was soo relieved. But then I remember the crushing guilt I felt that she was still thriving. And my friend's baby wasn't (all the love and hugs, April and Izetta). It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense. Why not me? Why her? Just why? Only God knows.

I was blessed with wonderful caregivers, family, and friends, who carried me through those hard losses and scary days (shoutout to you people!). But some women aren't. Or maybe they are, but they don't want to be a burden (man, I feel that) or they think it's less painful to carry it alone and to not talk about it.

I think that's the thing. We don't know what to do. We don't know how to fix it. As moms, or just as women (we're clearly the stronger sex 😆💪), we feel so much guilt and fear and worry and pain and I don't think anyone faults us or blames us or expects any of it from us. Except FOR us. We as moms (women) expect ourselves to be strong and brave and hold everything else up. We don't acknowledge that we're scared or worried or fearful or broken or that we feel guilty or wrong for grieving or aching the way we do. And that's a lot of things to hold on to alone. We don't know how to let go or share that burden. Even with our husbands. The loss is theirs, too, but we assume, or at least carry on like, the loss is ours alone. The grief is likely to be different, but not less. Sharing it is just hard, though.

But that's what this day is for. Your baby and your loss is so real. He/She is real and loved and no matter what you endured or what you carry with you, it's good to own it. Acknowledge it. Talk about it. Share it. Find people who want to hear it--who'll love you and support you through it, every day. No shame, no fear, just love.

The beautiful blessing on the other side of this is the sweet soul waiting for me. I didn't hold her or feel her or "know" her. I'm missing out on all those fated joys that would have been uniquely her, but I'm forever grateful that she was granted to me, even so fleetingly, because our reward is forever together in heaven with Jesus. And for me, that's worth any pain. I can't look back at the "what if's" or "why me's" because that's a dead end road. Embracing God's promises is the only way forward I can see.

I have a beautiful. fulfilling. blessed family. My cup runneth over, as they say. I'd take a bigger cup. And I'd take that one running over, too. But I'll take the hardships, too. And the grace. All the grace. Breathtaking amounts of grace, over here, please.

SO, thanks for listening to my story. I'd love to hear yours.