April Fools Day was the day I "completed" my natural miscarriage. (You can skip this next part, it's a little graphic.) I had been bleeding pretty steadily for a long time. The couple of days before April Fools Day, it had gotten heavier and much more uncomfortable. I started passing small clots. I remember that I was told it was supposed to be like a heavy period, and kind of laughing because it wasn't anything like that. The "cramps" I felt weren't cramps, I'm convinced they were contractions. I can't really describe the difference; yes, they were more painful, but it was more than just being painful. It was like a deeper, heavier sensation, and got to the point where I couldn't walk or talk through them, because they were so intense. I was surprised at the pain, but I didn't feel like I wanted to do anything about it. Part of me felt like I deserved that suffering, and that the pain of the process was kind of cathartic. Lucius was in the room with me through most of it, and every time a contraction started he would start crying. It sounded like he was saying, "Mooom! Mooom! Mooom!" The only other time I heard him cry like that was the first night we had him at home. He would also lay on my belly and sigh, and when I cried he would lick the tears off of my face. Normally, I loathe him licking my face, but I was so sad that I welcomed it. He was warm and soft, and I could hold him close and feel him move and breathe, and I could put my head on his chest and hear his heart beating.
Then, on April Fools Day, I ended up on the toilet, hurting into my bones, sobbing, and finally I passed a huge clot, and then there was this wave of relief. It was like a blanket, such a deep relief that it almost felt heavy. I bled for a couple of days later, but it was much lighter and without the contractions. I remember that it was April Fools Day because part of me was laughing, thinking that maybe this was the universe's prank on me.
Learning about the miscarriage was hard, but going through the process was harder. I can still remember how heartbroken I was.
So, why was I so sad?
I've been reflecting a lot on this lately. Time gives us a lot of perspective, and it has certainly given me perspective on my first miscarriage and Why, exactly, I was so, so sad.
I've always wanted to have children of my own. Like most little girls, I think, I dreamed about my future life a lot. I dreamed about meeting Mr. Right, I dreamed about being proposed to, I dreamed about my wedding day, and I dreamed a lot about having my first baby. I imagined how I would feel finding out I was pregnant, telling my parents, grandparents, friends, and family. I imagined how excited my mom would be. I imagined my stomach growing, I imagined what it would feel like to feel my baby move inside of me. I imagined my future husband feeling the baby move for the first time. I imagined him talking to my belly, telling our baby how much he loved it. I imagined hearing their heartbeat for the first time, I imagined watching my little one on the ultrasound machine. I even imagined going into labor, pushing, pushing, pushing. And, of course, the absolute best part: Laying eyes on my child for the very first time. Would they be bald, or would they have a lot of hair? Would they look like a mix of me and Eric, or would they be mommy or daddy's doppelganger? Or would they look absolutely nothing like us? Would they get my weird middle finger I inherited from my maternal grandmother? Would my mom find her nose on their face? Would they have daddy's beautiful brown eyes? I imagine that amazing new baby smell filling my nose as I cover their precious little face with kisses for the first of many times. I imagine Eric taking that bundle into his arms, and wiping tears off his face as he stares and them and just drinks in being a daddy. Then, family, friends, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, one by one taking them into their arms for the first time, grinning from ear to ear.
I've wanted that for as long as I could remember. And, the moment I looked and saw those two little pink eyes, motherhood became a reality that hit me like a freight train. I've said many times that it's like my perspective on everything completely changed in an instant, like I had been wearing sunglasses my whole like and for the first time I put on clear frames. I can remember what everything felt like and looked like before, but even though nothing has actually changed, I'm seeing everything for the first time.
When I got that positive pregnancy test (and the subsequent tests I took over the next couple of days), I wasn't thinking about having a miscarriage, or even the possibility of having a miscarriage. I was thinking about all of those things I had spent a lifetime dreaming about shortly becoming a reality.
Is it any surprise, then, that when I found out I was losing that pregnancy that I was devastated? Yes, I was only 6 weeks pregnant. In that short period of time, here is what happened in my womb:
"The nose, mouth, and ears that you'll spend so much time kissing in eight months are beginning to take shape. If you could see into your uterus, you'd find an oversize head and dark spots where your baby's eyes and nostrils are starting to form. His emerging ears are marked by small depressions on the sides of the head, and his arms and legs by protruding buds. His heart is beating about 100 to 160 times a minute — almost twice as fast as yours — and blood is beginning to course through his body. His intestines are developing, and the bud of tissue that will give rise to his lungs has appeared. His pituitary gland is forming, as are the rest of his brain, muscles, and bones. Right now, your baby is a quarter of an inch long, about the size of a lentil."
(Picture and info taken from babycenter.com)
I look at this, and read this, and just think, "WOW". Heart beating, nose, mouth and ears forming, little arm and leg buds, and that adorable little tail. To think it grew from the size of the dot on this "i" to the size of a lentil in just a few weeks. To hear that amazing little creation called a "lump of cells" makes me sick! A booger is a lump of cells, a blood clot is a lump of cells. That little thing with it's little beating heart is my baby, and it died.
But, it's more than just having my baby die, small as it was, new as it was. It was having that future die as well. I never got to feel my baby move. I never got to hear it's little heart beating. I never got to hold it. I had to flush it down the toilet, and that was really, really hard! Not to mention the death of my friend, Kat, around the same time. That certainly added to my heartache.
This was my first pregnancy, and I really, sincerely thought it would end 30+weeks later in giving birth to a baby. So, now I can never be without that fear anymore. And, as time has passed, and I've had two more miscarriages, I'm starting to feel like I will never have a child. That is devastating to me. I watch people around me get pregnant, grow their cute little bellies, and have their adorable little babies. I am so happy for them. In fact, having my nieces around to hold and snuggle and kiss help me get through the hurt. But, it's hard to be left behind. It's always hard to be left behind, isn't it?
However, despite all of those reasons that that miscarriage broke my heart, I absolutely cannot dwell on that. I push, push, push myself to leave that hurt in the past. I can't wallow in it, I can't drown in it. I have to stay positive, I have to keep my head up, and I have to move forward. Today, it hurts a lot less. I don't cry about it very much any more. Some times, when I have a hard day, I'll curl up in the bottom of my shower and have a good cry. But, I get out of the tub, dry myself off, and continue with my day. I pray every day that the time will come when I will have that whole experience, complete with a healthy, happy little bundle of joy.
I still have faith that day will come!
