I Try To Be Grateful

 *I wrote what I felt, as the words were coming. I will not edit or polish this blog at all. Excuse any grammatical errors. Thank you for taking this journey with me*

**TRIGGER WARNING: This blog is about miscarriage and contains vivid imagery**

As a life coach, especially being one who specializes in organization, I think it’s safe to say I have a handle on putting things in their rightful places. However, that’s part of the problem, unlike things, emotions have to be dealt with and should not be placed on a shelf, left to collect dust. I have tried my hardest not to deal with my miscarriage, oftentimes giving myself the “it’s so many other things going on” speech, but the truth is, my slip is showing and the thing that I’m trying to push to the back of my mind keeps showing up, uninvited.

The Reveal

I had no idea I was pregnant. It’s almost scary how identical Alisa and Baby B’s stories are. With Alisa, “something” told me to take a test, I had no symptoms whatsoever...and the same thing happened with this baby. 

I took a test, left the bathroom, and came back. I was welcomed by the word “Pregnant” and the tears began to flow, I was elated! After taking the test, I ran out and got Alisa a “big sis” shirt so I could surprise Brandon when he got home from work. 

When he arrived, Alisa ran into his arms (like she does everyday lol) and I drew his attention to her new shirt. 

“Super Amazing Sister?” “Wait, you’re pregnant?”

I burst into laughter at Brandon’s revelation that we would be expanding our family. I was on cloud 856974.

 

The following days I waited for the morning sickness lol. I was soooooooo sick with Alisa, throwing up several times, daily, for months. I just knew this pregnancy would be the same, no matter how many times I read "every pregnancy was different". I didn’t want to get my hopes up lol. 

The next few weeks were pretty uneventful. I took my prenatals, booked doctor’s appointments in Washington and North Carolina, and rested. Packing, running after a toddler, and carrying Baby B was zapping the little energy I had, so sleep was at the top of my to-do list. 

Seeing Red

I had always heard spotting during early pregnancy was normal as long as it wasn’t bright right. Well, the blood I was seeing was indeed red and no matter how bad I wanted it to be pink, it wasn’t changing. 

It was a little so I thought there was no reason to be alarmed. However, when I woke up the next morning and saw more red, I knew it wasn’t good. “No, no, no, no, no”, I repeated over and over again. This cannot be happening! I threw on my clothes, called Brandon while getting Alisa dressed, and grabbed the car keys. “Baby, don’t cry. We don’t know for sure yet”. Brandon tried to reassure me as I left for the ER but I had a feeling, I just needed confirmation.

I didn’t experience the excruciating pain and cramps everyone talked about so I didn’t know what was happening, to be honest. 

I’ll spare you the details of how I sat in the ER and was sent home with no more information than when I came in. A threatened miscarriage is what the doctor called it. She basically told me the baby was still alive but not for long, and I had to wait for the baby to pass. Because of COVID regulations, I had to go to the ER alone. No one should have to hear news like that by themselves. 

Waiting...

I can’t explain how hard it is to be present and “happy” with a 2-year-old while you wait for your other baby to die. I can’t put into words the sickness I felt uninstalling the pregnancy apps, I still struggle to piece those words together. Many hours after leaving the hospital, sometime after midnight, while laying in bed, I felt what I can best explain as a gush. The closest thing I can compare it to is a very heavy period. I got out of bed to clean myself up...it was happening and there was nothing I could do. 

I was hoping the doctors were wrong. These were the same doctors that told me I would have a hard time getting pregnant and they were surprised I already had a kid (I’ll write about this another day because I don’t even know where to start with that). They told me that in June, we found out about Baby B in August...but this time they weren’t wrong. 

My hands looked like I was a criminal at a murder scene...I couldn’t even cry, even though I wanted to, I continued to clean myself, changed my clothes, and got back in bed. I woke Brandon up and told him I was sorry. “No, you don’t have anything to be sorry for baby. It’s ok. I got you”. I shed a single tear and forced myself to go to sleep. The next morning there was more blood. I decided to get adult diapers because sanitary napkins just weren’t doing the job. 

I stayed in bed for the majority of the day. Alisa danced around to her Elmo jams, unaware of the pain I was experiencing and I just watched her in adoration. Homegirl started to get tired and gave me the “I’m sleepy, let’s take a nap” look and I gave her the “say less” look. As I finally got into a place of rest, I was awakened by my phone. It was Brandon and he didn’t sound good. He then shared that his brother-in-law had unexpectedly passed. “WHAT????” “HOW???” I genuinely thought I was dreaming for a few seconds. It was truly unreal! At this point, I’m completely awake, aware, and simply stunned. 

After we get off the phone, I automatically go into planning mode. This was the exact moment that I put my miscarriage on the back burner. We were already in the process of moving and would be taking off in a Penske truck with our belongings a week from that day, but I knew leaving Saturday would be pushing it with a 4-day drive if we wanted to make the funeral. 

So I called the Penske people to change the rental truck date, canceled and rescheduled the hotels, and called the movers. We had to get out of there and fast! 

So many things were going through my mind; the accelerated move, my sister-in-law, our niece and nephew, how Brandon would handle the drive, how I could be supportive to them when I too needed support and the list goes on. I had moments when I thought about myself but they were short-lived. 

The next few days went by fast. It seemed as if one minute I was in an ER and the next I was in a moving truck, driving to a funeral. This can’t be life, it just can’t. 

Unpacking 

The move to Charlotte couldn’t have come at a better time but I would have never thought it would be under these conditions. I’ve been working overtime getting our new home decorated and boxes unpacked but now that the funeral is over, and the boxes are unpacked, I’m left to deal with “my stuff”.

I REALLLLLLY cried about my miscarriage for the first time 2 days ago and I’m not talking about the cute, single Beyoncé tear cry, I’m talking about the shoulder bounce, ugly joint. I couldn’t unravel when I first found out because I had to be there for Brandon...then I had to keep it together because let’s be real, who’s going to cry while driving cross country, that’s a long drive as is...then I had to keep it together in front of an already grieving family...then I had to hold out until all the boxes were unloaded and unpacked...ok and now I can cry. 

But now the tears won’t stop 

...and they come unexpectedly

... and I keep seeing the baby commercials

...and everyone on my timeline is pregnant

...and I try to be grateful because I have a beautiful baby and there are so many others who have been pregnant and don’t have a child to show for it

...and

...and

....and

my feelings are so hurt because I wanted that baby so bad. And how dare the world keep turning, when mine was falling apart.

I sit in this beautiful home and I find no joy in it. I laugh and joke, and post funny things on social media but the truth is I’m ignoring the elephant in the room because I don’t want to be sad. I’m scared that if I allow myself to feel the sorrow, I won’t “snap out of it”. Plus Dad’s birthday is coming up and I’m not ready to say “Happy Birthday” and not hear a response. So that’s that on that.

So tonight I stare at the ceiling and the tears flow down my face and gather at the back of my neck, wetting up my pillow. I study the features of Alisa’s face wondering if her sibling would have looked like her, or Brandon, or maybe he or she would have been my twin...I try to push back the thoughts of “was it my fault because I was doing a lot trying to pack up the Washington house”. 

I don’t know what to do from here. A part of me wants to be pregnant again but there’s a small part that is afraid of this happening again. The ironic thing is both Brandon and I are rainbow babies (babies born after miscarriages). I don’t know if God has a rainbow baby in store for us, but what I do know is I’ll be glad when the storm is over.