A letter of loss and hope (*trigger warning*)

Someone very close to me just let me know that her pregnancy has ended in a miscarriage. Ugh. So feeling for her right now and wishing there was something I could say or do to ease the pain of such a loss. It’s a very sad reminder that pregnancy loss is very much a part of the pregnancy business. It’s not the part you excitedly post about on facebook or the part that gets a party thrown for it. It’s a part that many people don’t want to talk about. And it comes with a landslide of emotions and complicated feelings and can be a very lonely place.

J and I had a loss over a year ago now- a missed miscarriage at around 10 weeks that we found out about around 13 weeks.  It ended up being a long ordeal that I’ll share more about someday, but today my heart just hurts for my loved one and anyone else who is going through the same thing.

Today, I just want to share this. A letter I wrote to myself about 3 months after my miscarriage. It was one of those rough days. I felt so raw, so torn up, so broken. I didn’t know how things would play out but I hoped some future version of myself would find a way through the heartbreak. Overall this is a letter of hope, but I do want to warn you that it was also a dark, complex time for me.

And all I can say is- it DOES get better. 

It’s been almost 3 months since the miscarriage. It feels like a long time ago…. In many ways, I have “recovered”. But it many other ways it still feels like it was yesterday. I can still picture the nurse running the ultrasound, searching, searching, searching for that heartbeat.  Measuring the size of the fetus. Then turning to me and saying “I’m sorry sweetie, but I’m not finding a heartbeat.” And that weight in my heart, so heavy. Because deep inside, I already knew it was over.

Every day I think about that feeling, knowing there was life growing in me. I loved to rest my hand there, to think about what was happening inside.

The plans we’d made while I was pregnant… I’ve now done many of those things post-miscarriage. I’d pictured the Radiohead concert with my 5 months pregnant belly- but I was there post-miscarriage, beer in hand. The preggo in my department who was a month or so ahead of me- she’s due in 2 months. I had imagined the excitement of seeing her have her baby, knowing my own experience was just a couple of months away. Now I can’t even look at her belly without feeling that sinking feeling of pain and desperation. I feel like an empty vessel. 

It’s hard not to feel there is a clock ticking somewhere, a limited span of time in which the variables can align to produce a baby. I know how amazing reproduction is, given all the factors in play. The right time of month, healthy egg and sperm, cells dividing correctly… I know too much not to wonder if this will ever happen for us. And the hormones, I feel them in my chest, in my heart, surging with this need to try to get pregnant again. That I’ve healed enough and it’s time to do this again. That parents are waiting to become grandparents. That the only remaining grandparent is waiting for her great-grandchild. 

Future self, I hope for you the very best. I know you’ll find happiness, even if it comes in ways you weren’t expecting.  I don’t know if you’ll remember how heart-wrenching it feels right now, to be in this place. But I know it gets better for you. And I hope you can live in the moment- that you can be grateful for what you have and hopeful about what tomorrow will bring.  

And if it’s in the cards, and you are pregnant again as you read this, I don’t know if you’ll remember how heart-wrenching it feels right now, to be in this place. Just know just how lucky you are that, against all the odds, you have that life inside you again. And I hope you can live in the moment- that you can be grateful for what you have and hopeful about what tomorrow will bring.  

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