To My Angel Baby - Has It Been 2 Years?

I meant to write this post 6 days ago. Somehow the day came and went, and I didn't really have the chance to focus. To really sit down and think about what happened.

But now I have a moment.

A moment to think about that day... that day that was now 2 years and 6 days ago... the day something happened that I never really understood beforehand (even though I truly thought I did!). Something that ripped my heart into a million pieces, and made me feel confused and lost and saddened in a way that I cannot even begin to explain.

A moment to remember.
A moment to mourn.
A moment to just be with myself and really take notice of my experience right now.

It's been 736 days since I lost you. Well, technically it's been more than that... but 736 days have passed since I became aware you were gone. It feels like yesterday that the words "I'm not finding a heartbeat" were cautiously uttered in my direction from a sweet nurse who clearly did not want to be the one delivering the news to me. Just moments before everyone had reassured me, "I'm sure the baby is just fine." But you weren't fine. You hadn't been fine for at least a couple weeks and somehow I did not know. I never got to meet you. I never got to feel you move inside of me. I never got to see what you would have looked like, or kiss your 10 toes, or hear you laugh. You never got to drive me crazy with constant crying or keep me up all night. You never got to live outside in the world. I will forever wonder who you would have been and what you would have been like in my life. For that, I am sad and will forever mourn losing you.

Since I have a moment, I wanted to update you on my life. In November 2014, I got pregnant with my rainbow baby. Such an "easy" pregnancy overall but my heart was so sooooo anxious. So scared that I would lose that baby too. What would I do if I lost another baby? How would I cope? I struggled with this deep yearning to meet my lost angel baby while trying to experience genuine excitement for my long awaited rainbow. It was tough to want both of you while knowing that not only could I just have one but also to realize that without losing the first, the other would not exist at all. My heart was so torn. Then my sweet rainbow baby was born. I knew immediately that you, my angel baby, played a role in this. You knew that I was supposed to have my rainbow baby in my Earthly life. He would struggle with what seemed like everything those first 6-8 months, and he needed me as his mommy. More than that though - I needed him in my life. I'm not going to lie, our struggles were freakin' hard. It has been such a crazy rollercoaster, and I'm glad things have calmed down a bit. I sometimes found myself wondering if you would have been as challenging, and I felt guilty for that. I know something now, though, that I didn't know then. I don't even know if I really understood it before this very moment as I type this. I believe deep in my heart that you sent this baby to me. You couldn't be here so you hand-picked him for me and I just wanted to say thank you.

Even so, I still miss you everyday. I still can't believe that over 2 years have passed. 2 years! To me, it just seems so wrong because, as I said, it seems like yesterday. And it's odd because the pain is still there, sometimes hiding in my heart and sometimes so raw that it literally feels like it just happened. I remember so clearly how I felt after learning the news and how in disbelief I was right after the D&C. I still wish that I had somewhere to visit you, to honor you, to talk to you. So instead, I try to remember that you are always with me.

To Be Inspired

Day 23 of Capture Your Grief: Inspiration

I wasn't going to do this prompt as I wasn't sure how to be inspirationed on this day. Then, at work, I happen to be drinking out of this mug. I think I owe it to myself, my husband, my daughter, my angel baby, and any future children to have joy in my life. For them and for myself. I am inspired to find the joy even when it may seem impossible. 

Taking Care of ME

Day 22 of Capture Your Grief: Self-Care

Today's prompt was to do something to take care of ourselves. Of course for me that was going for a run :-). I used it to think about absolutely NOTHING. And it helped.

It's You and Me, Baby

Day 21 of Capture Your Grief: Relationship

I'm reading the book Grieving Parents - Surviving Loss as Couple by Nathalie Himmelrich, as recommended by CarlyMarie's Project Heal. I also recently watched Return to Zero (a very honest, raw take on pregnancy loss, grief, and healing). Both of these resources show how grief can affect the relationships in our lives. I've talked already in previous posts about my relationships with friends, new and old, but I haven't really explored how this loss has impacted my relationship with my husband. We've been through a lot, together 10 years as of last week. We've survived many stressors, my struggles, many life changers. The miscarriage was unlike our previous experiences together. It was extremely hard on us at first. I was sooooooooo involved in my grief (and still am sometimes) that it was hard for me to understand his personal struggle. We are very different types of grievers. I went back and forth with my grief, experiencing a wave of emotions. I often cried, screamed, stomped my feet. I expressed my feelings and, atlhough sometimes it was hard, answered honestly when people asked. A simple "how are you?" did not allow me to say "fine" or "okay" because I was not. I blogged about it and talked about it to people who I knew understood. Sometimes this was my husband, sometimes it wasn't. I don't want to share his personal journey here because, frankly, that's his business and his experience to share. But let's just say he dealt with his emotions in a different way. In the beginning, I complained to him that he did not show enough emotion for me to know that (a) he was affected by this and that (b) I was not alone. He shared with me that this was not the case - he did not express it in obvious ways like I did but that did not mean he was not sad. After that, after I realized we were together and it was not just me mourning the loss of this baby that I will not get to meet in my lifetime, after we acknowledged that we grieve alongside one another but differently... that's when I realized that I was not alone. I already knew this as others had reached out to me but he was really the only one who felt what I was feeling, who had been through what I had, who was grieving the loss of THIS baby and THIS future. Even though *I* was the on who had unknowingly judged his grief process (thank goodness I said something or I may have harbored those feelings), he never once questioned mine. When I needed to talk about it, he let me talk about it. When I told him I wanted to make a scrapbook for angel baby, he told me that sounded like a good idea. When I just wanted to lay around and sulk, he was understanding about that too. We've struggled, yes, because this is such a hard process to experience separately AND together simultaniously... but I don't know what I would have done without him.

My relationship with grief itself has been rocky. I'm hoping for a rainbow baby at the same time as I grieve this tremenous loss. It's confusing and conflicting, pulling me in all sorts of directions. I feel like a bad mommy to angel baby because how can I hope for my rainbow baby who would never happen without the loss of angel baby? I feel like a bad mommy to my future rainbow baby because how can I wish so hard that my angel baby were still part of my future when I'm actually meant to be raising my rainbow baby someday? It's not as all-consuming as it was last week or last month or the month before that... but it's there. Creeping into my thoughts, tainting this hope. I try to push it away but it's really hard, much like many other parts of this grief process. Maybe this is just what I'm supposed to feel right now. I think the strangest part is that this grief is soooooooo strong, but yet somehow I barely remember being pregnant anymore. My positive test, or "big fat positive" as it's considered by the trying to concieve community, happened on April 24, followed by my miscarriage 11 weeks later on June 19. Those few months are fuzzy in my mind, a blur. I miss angel baby so excruciatingly and still the time we spent together is almost like a movie that I watched, a book that I read, a picture that I saw. I remember it but it doesn't feel like it was my life. I connected with the character, but I need to re-read the book. What happened, when, and by who? I'm not sure why this is. Somehow I think in my heart, I knew something life-changing was about to happen, and not in a good way. I was worried, anxious, fearing for the worst from the very beginning. I've decided that next time I will appreciate and accept my pregnancy. I will connect to the baby even more than I was able to with angel baby (sometimes I wonder if I've connected to angel baby more now after the miscarriage than before), despite the fears I know I will have regarding potential miscarriage and loss. I will not be afraid to let others in on my excitement and happiness. That, to me, will be imperative
in both my future pregnancy, and my grief process if I happen to miscarry again (but still praying that that doesn't happen, okay?).

Just Breathe

Day 20 of Capture Your Grief: BREATH

I skipped day 19 as I did not have a chance to really dedicate myself to it. I may do it another day so that I have a complete month but I'm not overly concerned if I miss only one day.

Today's prompt is BREATHE. "Step outside today and find a spot to sit or lay down on the ground. Switch off for a few minutes. Stare into the clouds and sky and notice your surroundings.... Simply step outside into some fresh air and focus on breathing in and out. Fill your lungs with fresh air. Breathe deeply and slowly. Do this for as long as you need to and as often as you need to. Start thinking about making this a daily practice."

I did this while Alexa played on her playset. So I couldn't zone out as much as I'm sure Carly intended. But it was still very helpful. It was a huge contrast to the busy life, and my heart-pumping runs. It's good to slow down sometimes. Good for a grieving heart as grief can be so overwhelming that sometimes it is numbing at the same time as it is heartbreaking. I found this time-out to be refreshing. <3

My Sunshine <3

Day 18 of Capture Your Grief: GRATITUDE

I've read that the kids that come before the miscarriage are considered sunshine babies. I am so grateful for my own sunshine baby. When Alexa was teeny tiny with severe reflux/gas which presented itself like colic (fun times), the only thing that could stop her from crying (at least in the moment) was me singing to her. And only one song would suffice...

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away..."

It's interesting to me that that was my sunshine baby's favorite song... <3

Grief Explorations Over My Morning Coffee

Day 17 of Capture Your Grief: EXPLORE

I am still a day behind on this. Yesterday Carly asked, "Where are you in your grief journey?" Oh boy, this one is something I've considered a lot. I'm constantly re-examining how I'm doing and where I need to be going in order to be coping with this loss in the healthiest way possible. Tomorrow is 4 months from that dreadful day what I heard the words I will never forget. "I'm sorry, I am not finding a heartbeat." The next day, I had the D&C. My emotions have fluctuated since then, which I believe to be a pretty normal thing considering the weight of this type of loss. There are many days I feel stuck. Stuck between the grief of my lost angel and the hope for my rainbow after the storm. Sometimes I feel angry that this has happened to me, that my angel baby could not be a part of my family right now, that I don't get what I want just yet and somehow others do. I cope with this by talking to others who understand, and by reminding myself that we ALL struggle. We all have things we want and cannot have, and one day we understand the path that we had to take to get where we needed to be. The light at the end of the tunnel just seems so far away. I wanted it so much and it was taken away from me so quickly, without any warning, without my consent. I still feel robbed! But at the end of the day, after I've stomped my feet because it's just NOT fair, I hold onto the hope that there will be a positive outcome in all of this. I believe that that remaining hopeful is the reason that I have started to heal. Healing is HARD. It takes work and effort and lots of self-care. Lots and lots of self-care. Grief and healing can certainly co-exist. They are both continuous ever-changing processes, and will eb and flow in intensity over a lifetime.

And now, back to my coffee :-).