Part of me died a little after our second miscarriage. Part of me started to believe that our journey to parenthood would never have a happy ending. Part of me started to despair, and part of me was just angry. With one miscarriage, ever so common in first pregnancies, you begin to think that it’s just a fluke. You begin to think that you are “safe” the next time around because you had your “1 in 4.” But after two? Your fears take on a whole new level. The fear that something is “wrong” with your body suddenly holds a little more validity. The fear that your body won’t know how to stay pregnant the next time becomes a little more realistic. The fear that you will be on this journey for far much longer than you had hoped- that becomes your new reality.
I feared that this would drive a wedge between Tony and I. We had worked so hard to build on our pain and grow after losing our first baby- would it be too hard to do again this soon? I know that I regressed so much after the first loss- withdrawing from friends, avoiding any “baby” episodes on our Netflix shows, not feeling like myself for months. I thought of all the “trying” to get pregnant stress, the emotional roller coaster we rode to get pregnant for the second time- we would one day have to do that all over again. And that made me angry. I had personally done so much work to be “okay” again. Between the therapy, the meditation, prayer and forcing myself to be social when I just wanted to crawl deeper into myself, I was so exhausted. And now here we were again. This is how we were rewarded for everything we did to get here?
I also felt sad. Now on September 29th and March 16th I will remember these two babies and the dreams that I dared to dream for each one of them. I am sad that pregnant women surround me during this time of my life and sometimes it feels as though I have barely any friends at all who are not cradling a newborn or resting a hand on their bump. I have to try to figure out how to be around them with an empty womb and an aching heart, and also try not to dwell on what could have been. I am surrounded by mothers and their babies at work in the NICU. I feel so many emotions just trying to get through a 12 hour shift. I am saddened most of all that our journey to parenthood is not going to end on March 16th next year. It hurts that Tony and I have been chosen to continue this journey of loss- now full of a future of unknowns and testing and stress and even more anxiety the next time around. Tony and I will be great parents, and it breaks my heart that our journey to parenthood is still just that- a journey.
I HOPE that we are strong enough for this again- to grow in yet another disappointment by leaning into who we are at our core and striving to meet each others’ needs despite the emotional exhaustion. I came to the realization that my ultimate sacrifice as Tony’s wife now is to fight daily against the struggle to shut down again. He got me through the first miscarriage. It isn’t fair that I need him again in that way. What if this time around he needs ME? What if he never got to fully grieve last time because he was too busy taking care of me? I can’t do that to him again. And I can’t do that to myself again. Tony and I decided to name this baby JOY. No matter how hard life gets, seeking JOY is a decision that one can make on a daily, even hourly basis. Appreciating the good, and focusing on what you are thankful for, and not what you are lacking can lead to ultimate JOY.
On August 21, there was a fierce storm that came through our area. Heavy rains, strong winds, and sudden turmoil hit for about twenty minutes. And then the sun came out. I was putting something away in the garage after the rain stopped and when I turned around to go back inside, I caught my breath. The most beautiful, vibrant rainbow shined over our home. It was truly the brightest rainbow that I have ever seen. And then I saw it- it was a double rainbow. I started to cry. If we are blessed enough to conceive again, that baby will be our “double rainbow” baby. And here, shining in front of me, was a double rainbow. I felt some comfort in this sight- and it gave me such HOPE for our future.
This is my pledge to not regress, withdraw or dwell in self pity. Someday, I believe that my HOPE for a child of our own will meet with the ultimate JOY of that becoming a reality. In the meantime, I have two little tiny loves in Heaven (which I picture as little glowing twinkle lights) that were united one day in July, 2016– the day that HOPE met JOY.
