I feel like I should get a t-shirt with that title emblazoned across my chest…
If you don’t follow me on Facebook, or you didn’t happen to read between the lines on Twitter, you might not already know: We found out yesterday that our fourth baby no longer had a heartbeat. I was ten weeks pregnant.
I’ve never dealt with miscarriage before and, from what I’ve been told and from what I’ve seen, every woman deals with this horrible loss differently. For some excellent tips on what to say/not say and what to do/not do, I would point you in the direction of Donielle’s What You Should and Shouldn’t Say to Someone Who Has Lost a Baby or Jessica’s Helping Those Dealing With Pregnancy Loss. They both offer spot-on suggestions.
For me, personally, I’m feeling so hollow and lost and alone, my friends. Here I am, at my house, just waiting– waiting for my body to no longer be carrying this precious child of ours. I have no idea what to expect or when and it’s mental and emotional anguish for me. And I am realizing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I am NOT one of those women who prefers to mourn in private. I can understand that preference, but it is just not mine.
And, through tears, I selfishly implore you…
- Please talk to me.
- Please ask me how I am.
- Please don’t send me emails that totally ignore what’s happening to me– it doesn’t make me forget, it just makes me think you don’t think my pain is significant. That hurts more than talking about it, to be honest.
- Please let me tell you about our baby… about seeing that little heartbeat and the sheer joy we had mere weeks ago.
- Ask me questions that prove you recognize the life I carried– when was I due? (September 20th.) Was I feeling okay? (Exhausted and queasy, but so, so excited.) Did I have any feelings about whether I would have a boy or girl? (I had a vivid dream we had another girl.)
- Accept words like “hollow”, “lost”, “numb”, and “terrified” as replies to the question, “How are you?” I can’t come up with better right now. “Fine” would be a lie.
- Please don’t fixate on things like my age (35) or the size of our home (3 bedroom)… know that neither of these mattered one whit to us and this baby was already cherished and wanted.
- Let me cry. Let me eat Lucky Charms or Count Chocula. (Man, I wish I had some Lucky Charms right now…) Let me let my house fall into disarray while I numbly watch my three wonderful blessings play together.
- Hug me. Tight. Don’t let go until I do… I feel like I’m drowning and I’m so desperate for a life-line.
- Don’t forget that I’m not the only one who lost a baby. I struggle to know how to support my husband as I flounder around in a sea of tears. I wish desperately someone would offer him a hand, too.
I don’t know if I’m going to blog more or less in the days to come… I don’t know if I’ll find it painful or cathartic. I can promise you that the “My Story…” series will continue and there will be some reviews (I’m sure you’re thrilled about that. ;)) But, if I’m not around here much, you can find me on Facebook or Twitter. I can be reached through that “contact” tab on the top.
Please don’t ever be afraid to talk to me.