When I started my parenting journey, I never envisioned it would take me where it has. Four children at home and seven pregnancies later, it’s safe to say that things didn’t exactly go as I had hoped or planned. I lost three babies, a fallopian tube, and a big ole piece of my heart to get the beautiful family we have today. I’m here to share how my life after miscarriage is today.
This week, I am celebrating my daughters. Two of them.
My sweet rainbow-unicorn-sweetheart, Charlotte Grace, is turning one on April 1st. It has been an incredible year getting to know her, watching her grow, and soaking up how sweet and special she is. She has brought me such joy, and I am so grateful for her. She is a true gift, and I do not take that for granted, even when she is trying to play in the toilet or dismantle my pantry cabinet.
My precious, teeny 17-week daughter, Eliza Marie, was delivered on April 2, 2013. Seven years ago I lost her unexpectedly and for reasons unknown. This day is forever burned into my memory as the worst day of my life. It was a day I had to do something so difficult that I couldn’t even imagine how I would manage. In the wee hours of the morning, I delivered her precious, sleeping self. And every day since I have missed her with all of my heart.
Two daughters. April 1 and April 2. Oh, how God plants beauty in the broken places. I can see it now, and I’m so very grateful. The dates are no coincidence.
Miscarriage and Grief
The thing about the grief of miscarriage that no ones tells you is that it lasts a lifetime. A mother will always wonder who her baby would have grown to be. I will always ache for the missing part of me that I won’t see this side of heaven. I will always remember the pain of that day I labored to deliver a sleeping baby. It has left a scar upon my heart that even the birth of three healthy children could never heal. This is life after miscarriage.
The thing about miscarriage is that you lose your baby and all your hopes and dreams for her at the same time. Losing out on a lifetime of love and memories is hard to explain to people who haven’t experienced it. I miss her and who she could have been. I look at my beautiful family and wonder how she would have fit in, what she would be like as a now 7-year-old, how her spunk and sass would have added to the mayhem of a houseful of littles.
At a time when everything is in upheaval and the world feels heavy, it’s tough not to get swallowed up by grief right now. I am joyous for my Charlotte and sad for my Eliza. I am sad about the sisterly bond that Charlotte will not get to experience. It’s such a difficult thing for me to reconcile. I am grateful and yet longing. Because all the rainbow babies in the world can’t take the place of the ones we grieving mothers are missing. And even though days, weeks, months, and years pass us by, the missing never goes away, because this is life after miscarriage.
And just as days and years have gone by, the ache in my heart has ebbed and flowed.
And then a holiday or milestone approaches and the sadness feels heavy and fresh again. I find myself unpacking some of those feelings and sitting with them. In therapy, (please consider therapy a necessity if you have lost a baby) I learned that sometimes you just have to face the sad feelings and sit with them. And it’s not fun, but it’s a necessary part of the healing process. Years of counseling, and if I’m being honest, stints of medication, got me through those darkest of days.
As I sit here on this page of my story, I invite my fellow loss moms to join me for a moment. Sit down with your feelings and feel them. Unpack them for a little bit. Let yourself have a moment to feel whatever you’re feeling about your miscarriage(s). It is so very taboo to be sad in this world when your life looks picturesque from a distance. Many well-intentioned people simply do not understand how you could still be sad about your miscarriage.
You can have it all and still be depressed.
You can have everything you’ve dreamed of and still feel sad from time to time.
You are allowed to feel how you feel.
My Invitation to You
And so I invite you to tell me about your life after miscarriage. I want to know your story. What words of advice do you have for moms who are hurting? How do you honor your babies?
Read more about my life after miscarriage here.
*If you are struggling to cope with your feelings, please seek professional guidance from a counselor or therapist. Reach out for help! Somebody loves you!
