I know my blog is suppose to be a little funny and a little sarcastic. But more than that, it is suppose to be a very realistic take on parenting. So for those of you who only want to read something witty, perhaps this is not the right entry for you. But for those of you who want to know the nitty gritty of parenting, here is a story for you. And perhaps I am speaking of something that few people want to think of, or speak of, but for years I haven’t spoken of and still I have no solace. So perhaps I am writing this as a way of closure, or solace for any other family who has dealt with the same thing and has no idea how to cope with it.
I will forever remember the day. January 19th, 2010. The exact same day I went into the ER five years earlier with my first son. The exact same day I almost lost him. When I walked through those same doors, on the same day 5 years later, I almost collapsed. This couldn’t be happening again. It wasn’t. This time was worse.
This time I was too late and the baby was too young. This time I got the news that I’d already lost the baby. It couldn’t be. Why?
I racked my brain for answers. I’d done everything I was suppose to. More so than the things I had done when I was pregnant with my first child. Yes, the one who I got so sick with in my 6th month that doctors recommended my husband call his family for support in case he needed to make a choice between his son or his wife. And yes, that’s right, we were just finding out for the first time that we were having a son. The next time, with the second baby, we never got to find out. I was just shy of 3 months pregnant. Somehow I had convinced myself it was a girl. And somehow I had convinced myself it was my fault.
It was my fault that my body failed at the MOST BASIC thing a woman’s body should be able to do. I could see myself holding the baby that suddenly wasn’t even viable. That’s the word I kept hearing. It was okay because perhaps “it” had not been viable. I could tell you about the doctors… about the coldness of dealing with an “it.” About the apologizes that meant little. But I couldn’t help but feeling like I had did something wrong. It didn’t help that unless one has had a baby that it’s a lot harder to know how much attachment is felt. It is very different for an outsider to feel kicks; a completely other to feel the baby kick you.
Why do I write this? Because it’s been 5 years. And still 5 years later, I feel the pang of sorrow anytime I see a show or reference to a mom who has lost a baby. I want you to know that I worked the entire day while in miscarriage~ and not because I wanted to. Because I had no idea. Could I have prevented that? I don’t know. That’s a question I have to live with. It’s not just a miscarriage. It’s a baby~ no matter what science and doctors tell you. And it’s ok to feel sad. It’s okay to cry and feel lost over what you imagined could’ve been.
The truth is, we got lucky. We ended up with what some call the miracle baby. We go pregnant with our second son a month after I was cleared to try agin. Were there doubts? YES. Do I still have a slight superstition about the date January 19th? Yes. I do. I can’t fix that. I can’t go back and make everything picture perfect. But look to the friends who can at least say “I can’t relate, but I do understand.” In the end, there is part of you that has to believe there was a reason and there has to be a part of you that accepts people who may not understand but will still hug you and try to.