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 :-).

My Personal Retreat

Day 16 of Capture Your Grief: RETREAT. 

I couldn't take a whole day to retreat and to be kind to my heart as suggested in the prompt. This was supposed to happen yesterday, the day after the emotional candle lighting for angel baby, and I was going to take some time out for me after dropping Alexa off at daycare. She ended up needing to go to the doctor (don't worry, all is well) so this was not possible. That's okay though, I did it today. I went for my run by myself and decided to rest at the halfway mark. I sat under a tree and hung out for about 20 minutes to just chill. It was nice to not focus on anything specific for once. Then afterward, I ran back home :).

Wave of Light - Never Forget

Day 15 of Capture Your Grief project: COMMUNITY.

October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. The wave of light is a pretty awesome thing, a way to honor this day for your own loss and/or the loss of others, a way to show support and let others know they are not alone... I remember this being shared about all over facebook last year, and I'll be honest... I didn't really think twice about it. I thought it was wonderful but I just did not realize how supportive and therapeutic and inspiring a simple action like lighting a candle could be for those who have suffered this type of loss. It offers a sense of community signifying that we are not alone and that our loss is not forgotten.

I was at work during the wave of light remembrance so instead of lighting a candle, I brought a flameless candle to work and turned it on. It was nice to be able to do that knowing that others were also doing the same.

Finding the Light in the Darkness

Day 14 of the Capture the Grief project: DARK/LIGHT (acknowledging the dark and light sides of grief...)

"Today we are acknowledging the dark and the light sides of grief. The ugly and the beauty. The bitter and the sweet. The anger and the peace. You might want to write about the moments when everything falls apart or maybe the moments where our eyes are opened to the gifts that this journey has in store for us. Or maybe you just want to write about both."

This is a tough journey. I'm not completely in the dark side of grief right now as I have begun to heal, but I'm still not fully in the light side... or even close really. It's only been 17 weeks since the miscarriage (WOW, 17 weeks? Has it really been that long, and how is that possible?!). In the long grand scheme of things, that's really a blip on the radar, barely any time. Certainly not enough time to be out of the darkness.  I might be functioning and able to feel happiness now, but it's still a struggle everyday. I have really dark moments where it feels like my heart is falling apart all over again. It can be triggered by anything. Something someone says, the tone of another person's voice, a quote in a movie or TV show or song, a smell. It's hard to prepare when you don't realize when you will experience a trigger that feels so out-of-the-blue. I also have this intense fear about losing my daughter now. It's always been there a little as becoming a mother made me anxious in a way I never knew possible. I worry about my daughter's safety even if I know she is with people I can trust to take care of her and treat her right. This worry has gotten a worse since the miscarriage. I can't lose her too. The anxiety, the fears, are lessening over time as I funnel it into my desire to make sure our time together counts. That's the light of the grief. I have come to realize how lucky I am to have her. Yes, she was a challenging baby. High needs for the entire first year due to reflux, gastrointestinal struggles, respiratory concerns. It caused me stress, and more sleepless nights than not. Now I look back and realize it was all worth it and I would do it all over again in order to have my daughter. The miscarriage has made me more thankful about this. I cannot imagine my life without her. I appreciate all of our time together, our precious mommy-daughter time, our time as a family. I don't want to take for granted something that some cannot have or wait longer to receive. I hold her a little longer than before, hug her a little tighter, give her more kisses, and cuddle a little more often. Each day we have together is special. Even with this new found thankfulness and appreciation, the dark side of grief creeps in, robbing me of my hope, causing my sadness to overwhelm me. I have to remind myself to stay hopeful that one day this will all make sense and that angel baby will always be there with me no matter what. Until then, I will just have to follow Dori's advice in Finding Nemo... Just keep swimming.

Easing the Dread of the DueDate

Day 13 of the Capture the Grief project: SEASON

"What season to you associate with your children?"

I'm not 100% sure what season since I've only dealt with this for a few months at this point but for now I believe late Spring and mid-Winter. I found out I was pregnant in April and enjoyed some happy times with angel baby. My trip to LA, 2 half marathons, lots of springtime runs, days at the zoo and Connor Prairie... Many good days filled with joy hope. I think back with happy thoughts. I believe I will look forward to this time each year because I will feel connected to her. I imagine Winter will be another story. I was due January 7th so I already find myself dreading it. I find myself fearful of the New Year. What will January bring? Sadness? Longing? Anger? Disappointment? Maybe it will be OK but right now I'm scared. It's hard to believe it's only a couple months away. I have thought about what could ease the fear. Perhaps I will take the day off and spend it with family, maybe plan a special activity for us to do together. I do know that my January angels group has decided to have a gift exchange so that we can have something fun and uplifting to look forward to during a hard time. So we plan to each send a gift to each other, a secret Santa type thing. Something for just us. Something to make bring happiness to our day. We will each open our gift on the due date. I'm not going to lie... the dread is there and I will probably still be sad, but it's a little less intense knowing I will have something positive that day.

This Song is for YOU

Day 12 of the Capture Your Grief project: MUSIC

Carly says: "In grief we can resonate with music because it communicates the deep emotions we are feeling. Sometimes there are no words that accurately describe what we are experiencing and that is why I think I find myself so often lost in sounds and melodies. Share some music that enriches your life or reminds you of your children. Is there a story behind that piece of music for you?"

Most of the time, music hits me without me really knowing why. I'll be on a run and suddenly a song brings me to tears. Sometimes good tears, sometimes sad. Or it'll be the melody and will have absolutely nothing to do with the words. I don't know why that happens. Somehow it just GETS me. The sounds of the song pulls at the hole in my heart, trying so desperately to make it whole again. And then there are those days where I feel like I *need* connection. There's an album called BLINK by a band called Plumb. I'm not sure how I ever found them or their music (I think maybe Pandora) but the songs are soothing and peaceful, and have a spiritual kind of nature to them. Not religious necessarily (although some are). The songs are special for some reason and, even though most of them seem to be referring to the singer's living children, they make me think about my angel baby. 

(Below: how I prefer to listen to this special music. Either that, or while laying in my bed nice and cozy... No distractions.)

What is My Alter?

Day 11 of the Capture the Grief project: ALTER

I don't have an place in my home dedicated to my angel yet, just like I don't really have a specific place where I visit her (well, except for my running). But I am still working on the scrapbook. In fact, I got most of it done this evening. I just need to print out the photos for it to be complete (see the picture below - on the purple square, I plan to glue a photo). I included ANYTHING that was related to angel baby. Ultrasound pics, pregnancy tests, bibs from races that I completed while pregnant (2 half marathons and a fun run!), the poems and items given to me at the hospital on the day of the D&C, the cards sent to me from my friends and family, and several photos of me while I was pregnant (events I attended, places I went, etc). Everything that is related to angel baby deserves to be in there. I haven't figured out the perfect spot in my house for the scrapbook but once I do, that will be the alter referred to in day 11's prompt. I plan to light a candle on the 15th (Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day) and the candle will sit next to this book.

For now, though, the photo below captures my current alter, which is wherever I happen to be working on the memory book. This time is very special for me. Sometimes I get too sad and have to stop. Other times, like today, it helps to know that I am dedicating time specifically to angel baby. I am *thisclose* to finishing the scrapbook and that makes me feel good.

(NOTE: This picture is not the best because it was hard to get the lighting just right.)

"Friends are like bras: close to the heart and there for support."

Day 10 of the Capture the Grief project: SUPPORT  

Carly asks: "Have you felt supported in your grief journey? If so, where did that support come from. Was it from who you expected? Were you surprised by the support or lack of support you received. How would you suggest people could support those grieving, better? If you feel disappointed that your loved ones are not supporting you in the way you need, have a think about why that is."

I have felt extremely supported during my grief journey. More than I think I ever thought possible. I touched on this a little in my RESOURCES post, as I received a lot of support from my January angels group. But it came from more than just them. My primary support through all of this has been my husband. He may not talk much about the loss but he has allowed me to grieve my own way and realizes that it is a process that just takes time. In additions to my husband, I've received support from friends, family (aunts, uncles, my sisters, etc), and coworkers in various ways. Some examples are included below.

After sharing my first blog about the miscarriage, I received private messages and texts from lots of people (old friends, good friends, family, friends from both my local and online moms groups) for many days/weeks. Many shared their own stories of loss. It was hard for me to know that so many had experienced this heartache but it was healing too. I knew I was not alone. I was not a freak. I didn't do anything wrong to cause this. Their stories were like hugs from the distance, wrapping me up in hope and love. Sometimes these stories came from women who I didn't know well but it created a bond between us. I knew I could message any one of these women if I needed to do so - and I did just that. 

People have been supportive in other ways as well. One of my best friends came to visit the weekend of the D&C in order to physically be there for me and my other best friend checked on me pretty consistently for weeks. A very close friends here in Indy actually brought me to my D&C and she made that experience so much less traumatizing than it would have been  without her there. Sadly, she's been through it before so she kept me informed about what would happen while also distracting me and making me laugh. I know I can text her anytime I need some advice or just a kind word or virtual hug. Another friend here in Indy brought a movie and wine when I texted her the first night that I was alone after the surgery. I was lonely and sad and she made me feel better just by being there. Playdates with other moms and their kids have been very helpful as it has helped me appreciate all our healthy growing kids and the fun that they can have. :)

I don't think I've felt disappointed in loved ones not supporting me. Sometimes it feels that people forget that I'm still grieving and that sometimes my brain doesn't work as well as it used to yet but I know it's not their fault and maybe it's not even true that they forget (could just be my perception). It's not fair to assume they think about my grief as much as I do, or that they should be as impacted by it... because they're not. It's not in their hearts every day. And I wouldn't want it to be. I can't and don't want to be the center of the universe. I tend to tell others what I need in order to continue to heal so maybe that's why no one has outrightly upset me. There are times when I worry that my blog posts may annoy others or cause someone to feel uncomfortable but I haven't received any negative comments so I'm assuming people either don't mind or just keep on scrolling! My heart hurts for those who have had heartless or rude things said to them about this very hard topic. It's difficult enough to cope with without hurtful statements. 

My most common recommendation to those who have experienced this type of loss is that others cannot know what you need if you don't tell them. Miscarriage is NOT a dirty word and, just like ANY other loss, you have the right to be supported and to ask for support. 

In Memory of Angel Baby

Day 9 of the Capture the Grief project: IN MEMORY

I needed something tangible, somewhere to put the collection of items that I had accumulated over the 11 weeks that I carried her. So I started a memory book. I try to work on it on Monday nights when I'm by myself after Alexa goes to bed. Sometimes I don't have the energy or I just don't feel like it so it's taking me a while to get it done. But I'm doing it, and it will be finished someday...

With a Little Help From My Friends

Day 8 of the Capture the Grief project: RESOURCE

"Share some resources that have aided you in your healing journey."

I've received support from a lot of loved ones, both those who have experienced this type of loss and those who haven't but can imagine the pain. I would consider those who have also experienced pregnancy loss to be my biggest and most vital resource during this process. It saddens me to no end to know we are all part of this often unspoken club, but it's also comforting to know that I am not alone. I reach out to these women, and they throw me a floaty to grab onto when I feel I simply cannot stay above the water by myself any longer. We share a common bond, from near and far. I'm even apart of a Facebook group that branched off from my original January 2015 birth club. It consists of other women who were also due in January and now have their own angel babies to hold in their hearts forever. We talk about all sorts of things because we know that we can say whatever we need and it will be understood and acknowledged in a way that is so helpful. I cannot imagine this journey without their help in addition to the kind words of others who have shared their stories with me over the last few months. I am forever indebted to each and every one of them.

Other resources have aided my healing process as well. I came across CarlyMarie early on and was inspired by her ability to assist in others' healing via her beautiful photography. I soon realized I could learn a lot from the way she helps others. I've also enjoyed Still Standing Magazine. I plan to eventually watch Return to Zero someday too as I am told it is heartbreakingly therepeutic.

I'm sure there are others that have aided me along the way. The internet can be a great source of information when uses the right way!

My Sacred Place

Day 7 of the Capture the Grief project: SACRED PLACE

Today Carly asks - "Do you have a special place that you visit to be with your children?"

At first, I say no, sadly I don't. Or really I haven't thought about a special place. I asked myself, why don't I? It would make sense to have a place to be with my angel. Then I remembered that I do. I do have a place where I spend time with angel baby.

I take angel baby on my runs.

Surprise, surprise. I bet no one saw that coming, huh?

Yes, I take her on my runs. Sometimes I take Alexa on my runs too, and then we are all together. It's nice to be able to say that I am able to run with them both even though only one is riding in the stroller.

Running is a way for me to cope, to release feelings, to let go. But it's also a way for me to be more present with certain thoughts. So it's no shocker that angel baby joins me on my runs. It's not every run, and it doesn't really happen with any regularity... just sometimes a thought, or an object, or the way the breeze feels, or maybe an animal will remind me of her. Or a song will cause me to feel that she is there with me, pushing me to do my best. The song doesn't always relate to loss or love or hurt or pain (although usually it does) but something about it will bring me to a moment of calm. Suddenly I don't feel alone. Suddenly I feel surrounded by something that is hard to explain. I'm not even talking about a religious experience - more spiritual than anything else. Occasionally this feeling will bring me to tears (good, happy, and refreshing tears) but most of the time I just get this sense of peace. For a moment, or many moments, that hole in my heart as a result of the miscarriage seems to be all patched up and filled with love again. For a moment, it does not ache or cause me pain or make me feel weak. For a moment, I am whole again. It reminds me that this process, this healing, will eventually help me to become stronger... and angel baby will always be a part of me as the patchwork covering my wound.

"Our sorrows and our wounds are healed only when we touch them with compassion." - Buddha

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." - Khalil Gibran

"Scars have a strange power to remind us that are past is real." - Cormac McCarty, All the Pretty Horses

Reading Through the Fog of Grief

Day 6 of the Capture the Grief project: BOOKS

What books have helped me during this time of grief? Not many. And I say that because I haven't really read any books about grief. Nor have I been able to actually finish a single non-grief book since the miscarriage. I'm still having trouble focusing. Still having trouble *breathing* at times. So books are hard. I would love to say I read books often. I love to read. The old me would have read any book that may have a chance at helping me push through this grief. For some reason the new me, the changed me, the never ever the same me, the post-miscarriage me hasn't been able to read much of anything.

Wait, I lied. I've read things. Mostly blog articles that relate to how I'm feeling or my personal healing process. I feel like I grieve a lot differently than most people I know or have met. I'm an open book. I talk about everything. I release my feelings and emotions and thoughts by talking about them. (Okay, sometimes I just sit and stare into nothingness... and I cry and cry some more while drinking wine and eating ice cream. And that works too.) I heal by knowing that sharing MY experience. And help others not feel so alone. Because miscarriage and pregnancy loss are excruciatingly lonely experiences, even when everyone knows what happened and can ask you how you're doing... so I can't even imagine what it's like for those who are quiet about it, those who suffer in silence. 

Inspired by this prompt, I decided to download some books on my kindle. Some I'm borrowing, and others I bought. As long as they touch me in some way, I will read them. I want to read them.

Tonight I spent some time reading to linger on hot coals by Stephanie Cole and it was very good. I was looking for non-religious readings. It's not that I don't believe in God (I do) but I wanted something a little more tangible, a little more in the here and now, something I can focus on for this world... This book is a collection of poems and writings penned by grieving mothers. Some are angry, some are thoughtful, some are sad. But they are real, and almost Shakespeare-like. Maybe not Shakespeare but I think you'll get my drift if you read them. Not your typical poetry. After that, I started An Exact Replica of a Figment of my Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken. I'm not very far into it but her words are strong and honest, even in the beginning when describing why she wrote the book...

"I want a book that acknowledges that life goes on but that death goes on, too, that a person who is dead is a long, long story. You move on from it, but the death will never disappear from view. Your friends may say, Time heals all wounds. No, it doesn't, but eventually you’ll feel better. You’ll be yourself again. Your child will still be dead. The frivolous parts of your personality, stubborner than you’d imagined, will grow up through the cracks in your soul."

And Sunshine After the Storm by Alexa Bigwarfe welcomes me even in the first chapter of the book. Makes me feel welcome, at home, a book that I can feel comfortable (and maybe cry some good tears) while reading.

"I’ve listened to mother after mother talk about how they felt like they were not allowed to grieve their early pregnancy loss. And if they were grieving, they felt that those around them expected them to move on quickly. Or worse, they never told anyone about their loss because they had already been made to feel that at that time frame, the baby did not matter."

As I said before, this is the main reason I share my story. So now I feel compelled to continue reading hers.

Dear Angel Baby

Day 5 of the Capture the Grief project: JOURNAL

I found this in my weekly planner. I remember doodling these quotes that I had found about loss. I can't recall exactly when I did it but I believe it was soon after I returned back to work following the D&C. I didn't really know how to write to baby with my own words so I used the words of others. 

Torn Between 2 Loves

Day 4 of the Capture the Grief project: NOW

"Who are you now in this present moment? What are you feeling? Have you been irrevocably changed by the death of your children? How are you different now? Do you love anything about the new you? What do you want to become?"

It's extremely hard for me to answer these questions right now, so I may or may not respond to everything in the way that maybe I could if more time had passed. I can tell you what I'm feeling though... wouldn't you expect a counselor to be able to do that? I'm feeling torn. Torn between grieving a lost child and the longing for a rainbow baby. Torn between still experiencing that broken heart and the hope for the future. It's really hard to have both of these feelings at the same time. No matter how I look at it, I feel like I'm choosing one baby's life over the other. I can't have both. I can't have the baby I'm trying for if I were still pregnant with angel baby as I often wish I were. And what if that rainbow baby is the baby that's meant for my life? Then that makes me feel like the baby who was in my womb for 11 weeks was just a step towards the rainbow baby, that I'm brushing her off like she doesn't matter. Either way, it feels yucky to hope for one over the other. I've had countless mommas tell me that they felt the way I do until the moment they laid eyes on their rainbow baby, and then suddenly it all made sense. Everything that happened before led them to that baby, even the miscarriage and the pain that it caused. I hope that one day this will all make sense. But that doesn't make this experience of being torn between 2 loves, 2 babies (lost and future) any easier. It's a struggle and makes my heart hurt.

To answer the rest of the prompt... I do feel that I have been irrevocably changed after the loss of angel baby. My friend posted something that resonated with me: "A broken heart – whether your own or otherwise – will change you forever. It will change the fabric of your being and will turn you into an entirely different person." Yes. Yes, it does. Like I said, I really don't know who that person is yet but I'm definitely changed. I'm still getting to know the new me, to understand how she processes things, to learn how she copes... I know that I am more fearful, unsure, and weary right now. Will another miscarriage happen when I do get pregnant? How will I deal with a second miscarriage if that does happen? And if I don't miscarry, will I be anxious my entire pregnancy? Will I allow myself to bond with the baby in utero like I remember bonding with Alexa, or will I be too afraid? There are these uncertainties that I cannot answer right now. The loss of angel baby has also made me appreciate my daughter... more than ever. My heart aches with the realization that some women go through this before they've even had a living child. I just can't imagine. My daughter is my light. She is my drive to keep moving forward, to keep working on myself, and to stay strong and as positive as possible (even though sometimes I feel like I'm failing at all three...). She reminds me that I am loved and that I can still love with all of my heart. 

Before a Broken Heart

Day 3 of the Capture the Grief project: BEFORE


I've said this time and time again. I won't ever be the same person as I was before the miscarriage. I am a therapist and yet I did not truly understand what it's like to have a miscarriage and to grieve afterward. I knew it was a very very hard life experience, and I knew the person would be grieving... but I compared it, in my mind, to other grief situations. No other loss compares to the loss of a child, even those lost in the womb. I may not have gotten to meet Angel baby... but I loved her from the second those 2 pink lines appeared on the stick. She grew inside of me. My body nurtured her for around 9 weeks and continued to hold on for another 2 weeks until that day when I learned that she had died. My body was not ready to let go so it didn't. Maybe it wasn't actually my body that wasn't ready to let go, but my heart instead. At first I was angry that I had went on 2 weeks believing my baby was alive when she wasn't... but now I've accepted it. I got to spend more time with baby this way. The photo I chose for today represents how I was feeling at around the 8.5 weeks... how we were both feeling. Excited and happy. I didn't realize that this photo would probably be one of the last pictures taken while baby was alive and still had a heart beat. I don't know for sure and that's OK. I will forever hold onto this as fact, although it may not be the case. It doesn't matter. Because I didn't know yet that baby was not going to make it, we were able to capture ourselves in print before "there's no heartbeat" entered my reality a couple weeks later. Before those words became apart of my personal life experience, I understood miscarriage the best I could. I could empathize with mothers losing their babies, as I knew it would be a heartbreaking experience. I've had my heart broken before. I knew what that felt like and I would never wish it on anyone. But I was still blissfully unaware of the true magnitude of this type of broken heart. It's only been around 15 weeks since I officially lost angel baby. I'm still grieving so it's really hard to think about the ME before this experience, what I was like... because I was just soooooooooo different than I am now. It's almost unexplainable... I'm hoping one day it won't seem like my life is divided into 2 sections, before miscarriage and after miscarriage, but for now that's what it feels like. I do know one thing for sure. Although this photo (and the others that were taken that day) is still hard for me to see because it reminds me that the future doesn't look like I had envisioned it at that time, I am so thankful that it was taken. It brings me hope.

I Carry Your Heart

Day 2 of the Capture Your Grief project: HEART

"i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)." - e.e. cummings

I drew this heart as a representation of my babies. One child that I am lucky enough to be raising here on Earth, who I get to see smile and who I love to hug, who I can never imagine my life without... and the other who earned her wings before we ever got to meet. Both are very special to me. I never officially named the angel baby but I just call her Angel for short.

The Sun Will Rise Again

I have learned that pregnancy and infant loss affects 1 in every 4 pregnancies. It is way more common than I think many realize and there is a dire need for awareness. That's why I shared my own miscarriage story. I am 1 in 4, and I have nothing to be embarrassed about and no reason to keep quiet as some may believe. It's not shameful to have had a miscarriage. It's not something I will hide. So that is why I am participating in the Capture Your Grief project. I love the challenge of these types of photo a day activities. Plus this gives me the opportunity to honor my angel baby while also bringing awareness to a topic that is unfortunately viewed as taboo or uncomfortable by many.

You can find out more info about this project here.


Capture Your Grief, Day 1: SUNRISE.

The prompt today is sunrise. I actually did not do the prompt this morning. I happened to have trouble sleeping on Monday so I did it then. I woke up at 7am, got my coffee ready, grabbed a blanket because it was a bit chilly, and went outside. By the time I got myself situated, I could tell the sun was coming up but I couldn't *really* see it yet so I sipped on my coffee and waited. I spent that time soaking it all in... the crisp air, birds chirping, rustling of leaves, breeze blowing... and thinking about angel baby. I wondered to myself what she (my heart believes baby was a girl) would be like had she been able to live on this Earth, who she would have looked like, what kind of birth she would have had, what she will be like if/when I get to meet her someday. In that moment, it didn't make me sad to ponder these things. I don't know what it was about being outside so early that morning (hey, that's early for this evening shift counselor!), just drinking my coffee by myself. I felt peaceful, as if angel baby were there with me, surrounding me with love. Obviously I don't know if this was the case, but knowing that this photo challenge serves a purpose to my healing and possibly the healing of others gives me a sense of hope. Don't get me wrong, I have my hard days where I throw myself a pity party and ask myself why, and find myself jealous or overwhelmed with sadness all over again... I know I will never be the same after the loss, and that's OK. I'm still adjusting to my new normal. This experience reminded me that even in times of sorrow, tomorrow will always come and the sun will rise again.



The Worst Part - Sometimes It Hits Me

In my last entry, I wrote about how I'm mostly okay (because really what else can I be in day-to-day life?) but then there are those moments that usually come so unexpectedly that I can't even begin to prepare myself... those moments where I feel like I just found out that I had miscarried, all over again. The wound feels fresh, new, open, raw.

I am in one of those moments.

I need to release my feelings and this blog seems to be my way of doing that. So here I am. I can't seem to write about anything other than my grief, or the miscarriage, or the baby that I had already planned my life around. It's the only thing I really need to process and explore, as it makes very little sense to my heart. My mind can sort of understand it, or try anyway, but my heart keeps reminding my brain that it isn't as simple as "it wasn't meant to be" or "something was terribly wrong that caused my body to reject the baby" or "you will someday have your rainbow baby." None of that makes sense to my heart. My heart just wants THAT baby. It doesn't want anyone else's baby, or this elusive baby of our future... it wants THAT baby, the one with whom my soul already loved so deeply. Sometimes my heart cannot stay quiet any longer and pours into my mind, causing me to feel the way I do right now.

In this moment, I feel sad. I was okay about an hour or so ago, and all day actually. Really, I was doing pretty good. I had just watched a funny show which literally caused me to laugh out loud. I turned off the tv. I began preparing to work on my angel baby's memory book. And then it just HIT me. I felt emotionally exhausted and as if I could burst into tears, all in a matter of seconds. The emotions were so overwhelming that I became physically unable to move out of my spot despite the things I needed and wanted to be doing. Alright, so maybe the sudden grief is not so unexpected. Who wouldn't feel some of those emotions come flooding back while putting together a memory book for their angel baby? I've worked on it a few times already and it went smoothly so I don't know why this time was different. 

Maybe it's because I'm alone tonight, and will be alone tomorrow night AND the next while the hubby is at work. Being alone is hard. 

Maybe it's because I passed the one month anniversary of the D&C last week so it's more real now than ever that this is permanent and will not change.

Maybe it's because my period should be making her first post-miscarriage visit soon (sorry... maybe that is TMI?) and thus is wreaking havoc on my hormones and emotions in more ways than one. 

*Sigh*

Regardless of the emotional pain, I am very much aware that working on the memory book has been a therapetuic, cathartic experience and will continue to be a part of my healing process. Because of it, I am making sure that no matter what, I will always have something to honor the baby and the short time we spent together. I want it to be a special little book for a special angel. Even when everyone else forgets (or at least when it seems that everyone has forgotten), I will always remember.

Counting the Minutes of Grief

30,690 minutes.
                  511 hours.
                      21 days. 
                     3 weeks.


That’s how much time has passed since my D&C, which was less than 24 hours after the ultrasound tech cautiously turned to me with a frown on her face, sighed deeply, and said, “I’m sorry, dear, I’m not finding a heartbeat.” I will never forget those words.

It has been 3 weeks. That's unreal to me. It’s all such a blur that it seems like a million days have passed, yet it could have been yesterday as every detail of this experience will be etched in my heart forever. When I *really* think about it, everything comes flooding back… the initial shock, the anger, the confusion, the blame to myself, the overwhelming depression. It was (and still is) a grief greater than I could have ever imagined, and the feelings were intense, encompassing my entire existence. I wasn't able to eat much nor did I sleep well. My body was physically exhausted. My heart and lungs ached and felt heavy... when I expressed concern to my good friend who has lost 2 babies recently, she looked at me with tender eyes and suggested that this was caused by my emotional pain weighing down on me. I know now that she was right.

I was unable to feel anything other than grief and depressive symptoms for almost an entire week (oddly enough going back to work on day 6 helped with this). My brain did not function normally. I couldn't organize my life or think about future events/activities. I couldn't concentrate or think clearly. Life was just... foggy. I could not explain how I was doing when asked so I would simply start with “I don’t know” because I honestly did not know. I was merely surviving each minute only to have to survive the next and the next and the next. I knew scientifically that early pregnancy losses are typically caused by significant chromosomal abnormalities that are no one's fault, just a random mix-up of nature… but I so desperately wished that I could change how things had worked out. Despite having trouble putting into words how I felt at the time, I was (and am) so thankful for those people who reached out even when I had no idea how to answer all of their questions or describe my feelings. It made me feel supported and less alone.

Over the past few weeks, I have had time to reflect. 

There are occasions when something happens without notice that causes me to focus on the miscarriage, and the grief hits me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, I am acutely aware that I would be 14 weeks pregnant, that I would have a growing baby bump, that I would be starting to have more of the usual pregnancy symptoms, that we might have started thinking about names and baby shower themes. I'll be honest in saying that it's been especially tough seeing baby announcements with due-dates around the same time as my angel baby's due-date would have been... now no matter how happy I am for the glowing pregnant momma (and I *am* most definitely happy for them!). I also find myself wondering, would I be feeling the baby move around? Would I be wearing maternity clothes yet? And, having been along for the ride, would baby have enjoyed his/her first wedding over the weekend, or the concert last night with my friends?

Most of the time, however, I’m functional. I’m not lying when I say I'm doing “okay" (yet not great, good, or even fine - if that makes sense). I have been able to enjoy myself more and more. It does seem to take more effort and I get emotionally worn out a lot easier than normal. I consider myself to be an extrovert by nature, though I do benefit from some "me time" in order to recharge. I've been requiring a lot more of it lately in order to recover (for lack of a better word) from social activities. I’m changed after this miscarriage, but I'm still me. I’m adjusting to life after a loss. My family plans have changed, or at least will have a different timeline than originally expected, and sometimes I struggle with accepting this. I'm working on it.

Everyone Needs a Rainbow

I'm not even sure where to begin this post. But I do know that I need to write it. Not just for me but for every woman who has ever been through this experience before (and I know there are a lot as they seem to come out of the woodwork once they know you too have went through the same thing). I need to stand up for my right to share my joys and my pains with others in my life. I do not deserve to suffer in silence and neither does anyone else.

So, what am I talking about? I know you're wondering - that's why you're still reading this entry.

I'm talking about my miscarriage.

Yes, I have had a miscarriage. Well, I am actually going through this miscarriage right now, today and tomorrow... No, it's not happening this very second but I am waiting. Waiting for my body to reject the baby that was growing inside of me but is no longer living. Waiting for the D&C that I have scheduled for tomorrow afternoon if my body does not do what it's supposed to do after something like this happens. This is a very hard thing for me to think about... removing a baby who I'd already grown attached to, who I'd already loved, who I'd already envisioned in my family come January 2015, who had already joined me on at least one half marathon in it's short little life (or two half marathons if you count the one I completed after baby had stopped growing but was still along for the ride). I found out today that although my body thought I was 11 weeks pregnant, my baby had not lived past 8 weeks and thus obviously did not have a heartbeat. It just does not seem real to me. It has to be a lie, right? I feel betrayed by my body, like it tricked me into thinking all was well when it was quite the opposite. It tricked me so effectively that we had already shot family photos a couple weekends ago and, with these photos, we had created our adorable new baby announcement that we would use to make the pregnancy "Facebook official" so that I did not have to hide being pregnant anymore. And now instead of that announcement, I have this blog entry... except I am announcing something entirely different. I cried most of the way home from the doctor's office, I cried on and off throughout the rest of the day... I'm crying now. The tears just keep coming.

At this point, I wish I would have just announced the pregnancy in the very beginning so that others could be excited with me. I could have shared my joys with many people instead of just the select few who were informed about the pregnancy for one reason or another. Now those who I care about only get to experience the negative, the sadness, the wonder about why these things happen, the hurt. I'm sorry this is all I get to share with you all because we really were extremely excited about this pregnancy. We talked about it to each other all the time, we had plans for this baby, we finally felt ready to add to our little family. I should have shared that excitement with everyone in my life.

We don't hide other conditions from people, such as heart disease or diabetes, and we certainly don't hide the surgeries or procedures that are sometimes required to make people whole again when things go wrong. When my uncle was diagnosed with bone cancer, I told everyone because it hurt me to think about him suffering. When he died, I shared that information too, even dedicating a few posts on Facebook to him and what he meant to me. Why are pregnancy and miscarriages so different? Why do we hide our pregnancies in fear that we will have to share bad news when we will need support if bad news does come into our lives? Isn't that sometimes a part of life and don't we want people there with us along the way for the ups AND the downs? I know some feel it's better to keep this to themselves for the sake of others. I get that they don't want to tell someone such good news only to let them down, to cause sadness in their hearts. I understand we want to protect our loved ones from pain, and ourselves from the painful questions people ask afterward. I'm fine with others keeping their pregnancies and miscarriages a secret if that's what helps THEM. It doesn't help me. Right now *I* am experiencing pain. I am hurting. My heart is broken into more pieces than I could ever even attempt to count. And most people have NO IDEA that it is happening. I'm supposed to function at work (and I know my boss would give me time off because she is AWESOME and understanding but eventually I still have to function, right?) without anyone knowing the painful event in my life. I'm supposed to maintain friendships but how do I do that if they don't know I'm struggling? Doesn't my pain matter? I'm asking myself now - why am I protecting the feelings of others so that I can suffer alone? I don't want to suffer alone. So the next time I am pregnant, you'd better believe I will tell everyone as soon as I feel comfortable to do so. I definitely will not wait until the second trimester. "But what if something happens," you ask? Then I will tell everyone that too. So that I'm not telling people I'm pregnant in the same breath as "I had a miscarriage."

It's tough right now, and I will need a lot of time to heal... but I know in my heart I will be OK. Lots of woman have gone through this before, have come out on top. I will eventually have another child that I know will complete my family. This baby is now a little angel somewhere looking over us, maybe even having breakfast with Uncle Marv for all I know (if that's the way it even works). For now I must just believe. Believe that I am doing the right thing by telling everyone what I am going through right now... that this will get easier... that my heart will mend... that someday I will get my rainbow baby.

In the meantime, please keep me and my family in your prayers, positive thoughts, or whichever way you role. I'm going to need some of that strength.