Miscarriage and Loss

With no surprise, the death of my son changed my life in so many ways. The overflow of stolen moments immediately consumed my mind when I heard he was gone. I'll never hold his hand on the first day of school or kiss a scraped knee during playtime. I'll never see him get married or have a family of his own. He will never go fishing with his brother or hunting with his daddy. Those moments I knew were taken from us. But, one thing I did not realize was also stolen was my innocence to tragedy. There are times I find myself physically consumed with envy of an eager new mom, so full of excitement. I watch her as...

Alone. I recall sitting at my home, listening to the silence as it roared in my ears. I was supposed to have a baby to care for at this time. I was supposed to be sleep deprived from midnight feedings and 2 am diaper changes. Instead, I was sleep-deprived from crying out in grief through late-night hours. My arms felt weightless, they ached to be filled by my missing child. Wherever he was, I wanted to be. I wasn't suicidal so to speak, but I wanted to be where Weston was. In the days following, I felt my chest heavy as milk began to fill, another blow to my spirit. My body was ready to feed him, to nurture him, but...

I wasn't expecting a visit from you today. As I watched my husband build a tall tower of blocks with our toddler, joy filled the room as Christmas cheer was in full effect. But, you found me. In the middle of bliss and laughter, a pang of sadness. You reminded me someone was missing. Just as my spirit settles, there you are, waiting for me. Grief. Grief, you come in the most unsuspecting moments, when I am overflowing with happiness, almost as a limitation to my joy. "Oh no!" grief says, "You can't be that happy. You can't feel that much joy. Someone is missing, remember?" I used to mistake you for guilt. How can I feel joy when someone I...

October you will forever be dear to me. Your cool crisp air blowing with swirls of amber and gold, though underlying there will always be a tinge of blue. October is pregnancy loss month and ironically when the greatest loss of my life occurred. October 27th, 2017 never falls far from my memory. Even on my most joyful of days, I can feel the familiar hollow ache that none can fill. On a dark, rainy October night I held him for the first and last time. His perfect little frame quiet and still in peace. Before this night, I had no knowledge grief existed of this magnitude. I did not know the pain of this intensity. Some days I yearn...

Here I am, 39 weeks pregnant with a baby whom many people refer to as a rainbow baby, meaning baby after loss. For us, this pregnancy comes after two losses over the last two years. I suppose the term has been around for years by now, celebrating a baby after such difficult times. And I am all about celebrating. But I have been hesitant to do it through the use of that term. Full disclosure: In no way am I putting down anyone’s use of the term rainbow baby. However, these are just some very real feelings and emotions that I’ve been experiencing recently. There are so many emotions involved with a pregnancy after loss. No longer is it nine months...