On Recurrent Miscarriage

This morning I passed the gestational sac and fetal pole that could have grown into my third earthside baby.

While this pregnancy was completely unplanned and a bit of a shock, there was never any question in our mind as to whether the child was wanted. Of course we wanted the child. And so we began dedicating ourselves to figuring out how to make it work. This was hard word, humbling work, vulnerable work, and it was paying off in spades. Things were going so unnaturally well that I sat at a familiar crossroads and made the decision to not wait for the other shoe to drop. I leaned into the perfection of it all as a sign that this baby was divinely planned, with a purpose and a reassurance.

Then all the damn bad news started.
I have been struggling with feeling angry towards myself. Isn’t this exactly why I get nervous when my life feels too settled, too easy, too meant to be? Haven’t I learned my lesson that big ugly things are sort of par for the course in my timeline?
My toddlers and I are fairly emotionally in sync right now…

For me, the hardest part about talking about this miscarriage isn’t sharing that I had a miscarriage. I’m not ashamed of it and it’s always been something I have felt strongly about giving a voice to, for my sisters in struggle and in honor of my child that wasn’t able to stay.
The hardest part is anticipating the reactions, because this is tough stuff for ALL of us, right? The death of a wanted child isn’t something that anyone I associate with would take lightly. So I absolutely acknowledge how awkward it can feel as we search for words for events where words can never be enough.

So you can click here for pretty much the best article ever written on what to do after someone has had a miscarriage.

Our baby’s name is Ren, if you were wondering. We don’t know the sex of the baby, and do not choose to elect a gender. Ren means water lily or lotus, and these flowers are powerful symbols of enlightenment and perfection in many cultures. We believe that all life is perfect, even when it cannot sustain on earth, and are honored to hold this name in our hearts and on our tongues for this baby.

And I AM okay, physically.
And I WILL BE okay, mentally.
And I know that even after reading that article, many of you still just want me to tell you what we “need”. We just need your support. And that can look like a loving thought, a hug, a lit candle, a visit, a meal, a text, a picture of penguins being super adorable, whatever. That’s up to you (re: article) and we are not keeping score.

We are just eternally thankful to have cultivated an environment where we do not have to sit alone in this. So thank you, and if you are in this struggle with me, please know that you are not alone.

 

 

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