Silent Sadness

Precursor: This post is a bit heavy, but I use writing as a therapeutic tool sometimes to share my stories. It has taken me nearly two years to share this story -- if this resonates with you, please know that you are not alone. I also believe that writing lets us unveil our true authentic selves. I am someone who thrives on community and connectedness and through writing and sharing (warts and all) we can truly connect to one another and see that we have the same fears, same longings, same hopes; and it opens up new ways of healing, laughing, loving. A thread of my story might be your story, a friend or a sister. Thanks for reading and allowing me to share.

From ohpregnantme.com

I had two children already, so I felt guilty for feeling like I did, but I was devastated. It was a pain I didn't want to share; and, at the time, did not even find the mourning space it so deserved.

After the 2012 New Year, I vowed that one of my resolutions would be to take care of my 40-year-old self. I booked a mammogram and went in for the appointment. The doctor asked if there was any chance I was pregnant.

“Um… I don’t think so.” They wanted to be sure, and did some traditional tests. Guess what, you are pregnant—baby number three. I was shocked, thrilled, cried, scared and called Paul. It was our new reality- we were expecting baby number three. 

We called our parents and their reactions ranged from “holy crap” to pure joy. Babies are a happy event. I went to the doctor, heard the heartbeat, felt exhausted, felt sick, and had heartburn. All was good, and as it should be with baby three.

We went on a February vacation to my sister’s house in NH. I was nearly nine weeks along and didn’t want to share the news broadly with everyone just yet. But, Paul felt differently; and in his excitement, blurted out our “secret” news to all our extended family members.

That week, in NH, not in my own home, not in my own bed and not near my doctor, I miscarried baby number three. Although my immediate family and my extended family were there, I was alone in my loss and in my grief. That was nearly two years ago. I still have moments of sadness for the baby that never was. A pregnancy loss is common in the first trimester, but it doesn't replace how you feel when it happens to you. I didn’t want to be a statistic—that one out of the four women who had a miscarriage. I wanted to be the other three women. I just wanted my pregnancy back and all the plans we had made to be a family of five.

Many people don’t know what to say when a friend or family member losses a pregnancy. I heard everything. “Well, at least you already have two healthy boys.  The fun is trying again. It happened for a reason. There must have been something wrong. It wasn’t meant to be. These things happen to everyone. Maybe you are just meant to have two kids. I think you have all you can handle. God has a plan.”

I am sympathetic that people really don’t know what to say or how to respond. (God knows I have often found it difficult to know what to say, and probably have resorted to some of the above cliché statements.). But, none of these things were anything close to what I wanted to hear or needed to hear. All I needed was a hug, a good cry and someone to listen to my heartache. I cried in silence and felt guilty to mourn on our “vacation.”

In a few short weeks, Paul and I had planned and changed our lives on paper and in our head. We built a lifetime as the mommy and daddy of three children. We started talking about names and possible birthdates (since I would deliver by C-section and the due date was so close to Liam’s birthday). I felt empty inside and so did Paul. From the moment I heard about baby three, I had a lifetime of love and connection.  

So many women (and some of them related to me) have also suffered in silence. They have cried in the comfort of their own room, in the shower, at the doctor’s office or even not at all.  Some of them have had children after miscarriages, some haven’t.  Some women are embarrassed and think it is their fault. Some women have had multiple miscarriages and have never found out why they can’t carry a child to term.

I suffered in silence for a long time – and sometimes still do. Sure I had some wonderful friends who cried with me, called me regularly just to make sure I was doing OK and urged me to find the space to be sad. I am so grateful for them. 

But, as I prepare for the holiday season and start to throw away old toys that the boys have outgrown, sell my old baby equipment and determine what I am going to do with old clothes that have been outgrown, I live it all over again. Baby three might never be.

Layer in social media on top of it all. In our social media world, the worst thing for me at the highest point of my grief was opening up Facebook and seeing that my friends were pregnant, or just had a baby. Or even reading People magazine at the dentist’s office and flipping the pages that included information on the latest “celebrity baby bump.” It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy for my friends and family – but just so sad about my own loss.  

People who have no idea about my story still innocently ask if Paul and I are “done” or if we are going to try for number three before I get too far into my 40’s. I sometimes open up to them and share my story and my journey since that cold week in late February.  On a bad day, when Owen is screaming like three-year olds do, when baths are not done and Liam’s homework is looming, when bedtime is a mess of crying, tantrums and not sleeping and we are running like crazy people down the sidewalk to get to school on time, my response is “two is enough!”  

Today, I am accepting and give my loss the respect it deserves. I give thanks for my life with my two boys -- these beautiful, curious, joyful, wonderful souls. I felt for a long time that a puzzle piece of our family was missing. Now, two years later, I don’t feel that way. We have movie night, we are able to sleep in on the weekends, and I can take a shower while they play together. I still miss ‘Baby Three’ and the little soul whom we will never know during this lifetime. However, grief and gratitude are mutually exclusive, and I feel overly blessed to have on loan my two angels, Liam and Owen -- my greatest teachers and most precious gifts.

"An Angel in the book of life wrote down my baby's birth. And whispered as she closed the book "too beautiful for earth."