Three babies lost, three babies in heaven, three separate heartaches. 
I never thought I would be here in this position, or sharing this kind of story, but here I sit. I had my first little girl the first month we tried. No issues, a textbook pregnancy, and a perfectly healthy baby. We waited until she turned two to start trying for our next. I wanted some time between my babies. After all, she still was (and still is) my baby. It’s been a little over two years since we started trying, and we have gone through a loss on three different occasions.
This is never the story that I would have picked, but I have learned to find the beauty in the work that God has done. When you have such a fierce love for something, and it is taken away from you, it shatters you into a million pieces. If you’re able to pick those pieces back up and put them together, somehow you’re different. I am forever grateful for the way He has changed us through our experiences.
I was so oblivious and just thought this part of our story would be easy.
Two years later, three miscarriages, and a lot of heartache and tears – and my story has changed. I kept it all inside for a while. I figured after the first miscarriage that this happens to so many women, I’ll probably be pregnant in no time, and no one even needs to know this happened. After the continuous struggles we’ve had, the only thing that helps now is to talk about it. When you’ve had a miscarriage, or even worse, multiple miscarriages, you’re on an emotional rollercoaster. Every month. You have so many emotions you are dealing with – heartache, shock, grief, disbelief, disappointment, confusion, anger. That’s a lot to deal with on your own.
Please keep in mind, I am only speaking from my personal experience. I can’t imagine what any other momma’s or momma’s-to-be are going through, and everyone’s story is different. Everyone has different struggles or obstacles they may be facing on their own. What I do know, is whether you are trying for your first, second, or fifth – it’s hard…I know. We all have our own story, and we all have something that bonds us. That is why I’m here today writing about this – we are bonded.
The hardest part is the feeling of being alone.
I know I’m NOT alone. I know that. We are one in four. My husband is one of the most caring men in the world. He puts my daughter and me first – above all. He’s the guy who texts all of my best friends on their birthdays before I even have a chance to. He’s caring and thoughtful.
When the losses happened, of course he was upset. But he also had to continue on with life. There was no physical attachment and he had no idea how I felt. I had already figured out my due date, thought of how wonderful my daughter would be with a sibling, downloaded pregnancy apps onto my phone…you know the drill. But, maybe he was grieving in a different way on his own, while also trying to stay strong for me. And be there for my daughter on those days I couldn’t peel myself out of bed.
The most comforting thing I found was a friend.
A friend I knew had also gone through a miscarriage. I finally opened up to her about what I was going through. There is something that bonds us now. An understanding of what we have gone through and how hard it really is. We shared our stories and our emotions, raw and unfiltered. I realized how healing it was for me to share my own experiences.
Before I had started this journey, anytime I heard of someone having a loss, of course I felt terrible. How awful that must be. But, I also knew how common it was and always tried to stay positive for them. After having one myself, I realized it’s so much more than that. It’s not just sad, or hard. It’s devastating. Whether it happens at 4 weeks, 6 weeks, or 10 weeks – it’s devastating.
Where we are now…
When I agreed to contribute to this blog, I was hoping to write a redemption story. I was hoping I could share what I have been through and write about our happy ending. I was hoping I could share what worked for us. Unfortunately, we’re not there yet. We have had every test done possible. Everything is normal. Everything is normal. We have no answers. We see a fertility specialist and are trying a few new things. It’s a long road. It’s a road of trial and error. A few months trying one thing with no results….a few months trying the next thing with no results. Of course, our insurance doesn’t cover any fertility treatments, so it’s also an expensive road.
I’ve also done a lot of my own research, eliminating any of the possibilities that I DO have control over. We’ve changed our diet, minimized toxins from our home, made changes to regulate and support hormones, eliminated caffeine, and many others. I could go on and on with google searches, articles and testimonies that have kept me up night after night until all hours in the morning.
If everything else fails, you can still have hope.
It took me a long time to get here, but what I’m left with at this point is hope. There is no right or wrong way to feel, and there’s no time limit put on how long you’ll feel the way you do. But, allow yourself to have hope. It’s ok to grieve, it’s ok to be angry, it’s ok to ask questions, and it’s ok to ask for second opinions. But don’t lose hope – our bodies are absolutely amazing things. You have to believe at some point the stars will align, the timing will be right, and things will work out exactly when they’re supposed to.
If you’ve managed to read this to the end, thank you for being here and allowing me to share my story. Share this with anyone you think might benefit from it. Get in touch with me personally if there’s anything you want to share, or any questions you have. And lastly, good luck to each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. I hope you can find the strength to get through your journey and remain hopeful for your redemption.
