Why this life never ends.
Orange tulips in April at Knutson Farms, Sumner, WA.
I named this blog “This Miscarriage Life” because over the years of pregnancy, loss, and recovery, I’ve learned that miscarriage is like grief. Miscarriage is exactly like grief, and it doesn’t fully go away.
Miscarriage loss physically and emotionally hurts. It’s deafeningly loud at first, choking in its pain. So much sadness, so much confusion, and so many what ifs. Unlike the death of a parent or partner, losing a pregnancy is almost entirely grieved in secret, compounding the intensity until it’s all you can feel. Isolated, hurting, and raw.
Eventually, we learn to live with the memory of our pregnancy and baby. The pain recedes enough so that we can breathe again, drag ourselves out of our grief-bed, and into the shower. We go out into the world again and get a small grip on reality.
But while going through the motions of normalcy, the sadness remains. The memories stick. The days go by and you get a reminder from your obstetrician’s office that you have your 16-week appointment coming up, that you now have to cancel. The months go by and you remember the baby shower that you never got to have, and also the Baby Prep List in your Notes app you need to delete. Your due date arrives and the wave of grief is so intense that you have to stay home from work because you should be holding your newborn right now in postpartum bliss, but are instead still empty.
Your baby’s first birthday is coming up and you see someone else in your birth group planning their party. Your best friend’s toddler is just now walking. Years go by and you may still be trying to conceive a healthy pregnancy, while watching other’s babies grow into big kids starting school.
Even if you have a successful live birth later on, you remember your baby’s older brother or sister who didn’t make it earth side. You remember their birthday and the name you had picked for them, the nursery you started to decorate. You remember the family pictures you didn’t get to take exactly how you’d planned them.
This Miscarriage Life shines a light on the memories, hopes and futures we all had for our families. The lives we still hold in our hearts.
– Brenda
