Experiencing A Miscarriage? This is for you.
I wrote this piece in March 2021 as a “Member Profile” for The Mamalove Collective, just after learning of my third consecutive miscarriage. If you’re experiencing a miscarriage or grieving a loss, I hope my journey to this point brings you a bit of peace.
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December 2019 was a great month. I was soaking up every last minute of maternity leave with my sweet, snuggly newborn baby girl. I spent my days like most new moms–in a haze of breastfeeding and diaper changing and reading sleep advice on Instagram, breaking up the blissful monotony with Mama's Circle, postnatal yoga and weekday brunch with other mom friends on leave.
Looking at the year ahead - 2020 - I thought the hardest thing I'd have to do in this new decade was head back to work and leave my precious, nearly 4 month old daughter behind. I initiated a sloppy, hail mary attempt to go back to work part time at the very last minute, convinced I needed to slow roll my adjustment to my new normal.
Those first weeks, as anticipated, were brutal. Pumping left my nipples more raw than cluster feeding ever did, and I found it impossible to manage and set boundaries around my new part time schedule. The work itself wasn't compelling enough to distract me from the hours I had to spend away from my baby, never mind the 1-2 hour daily commute in and out of downtown DC.
I was certain I needed to quit work.
The week I was set to return full time, Harper came down with a serious daycare bug. Fever, fussy–she needed me more than ever! I took the week mostly off to be with her, even though my husband worked remote and absolutely could have handled it. I. Needed. To. Be there. The next week, I was sick with the same debilitating flu.
The next week, news about this Coronavirus thing started flooding our newsfeeds.
Daycare closed. I was trying to bill hours, introduce solids and found myself googling "is it ok to breastfeed hungover?" nearly daily.
I discovered I was pregnant again the Thursday before Mother's Day. The very next day I was furloughed. One month later, at my 8 week appointment, I found out what a missed miscarriage was.
After three weeks of waiting and four rounds of cytotec, I had a D&C–the day Taylor Swift’s Folklore dropped.
The summer and time and daycare reopening and a wonderful new job smoothed the choppy seas my family and I had been riding for a few months.
I found out I was pregnant with my rainbow baby the week of the election. My anxiety was off the charts with everything happening in the world, and the worries that come with pregnancy after loss. At 5 weeks I experienced something called a subchorionic hemorrhage, and the week of Thanksgiving it was confirmed that I'd miscarried once again.
Needless to say we had a VERY festive Christmas season, with a grand finale of daycare being closed for two weeks due to an active Coronavirus case in my daughter's classroom on December 23rd. At this point, I'm sure many of you know what it's like to be locked inside with a 15 month old testing out free will for the first time for 14 days straight. And I feel for you.
As the NEW new year rolled around - 2021 - I approached it like many of us did–with deeply cautious optimism. Something in my life needed to change, and I realized with so many things out of my control, all I could do was focus on the way that I interact and react in this world. Cliche, but stick with me.
So I dragged my ass onto my Peloton and one sweat after another, the fog started lifting. Clothes started fitting better, fewer bottles of wine filled our recycling and I started meditating every day. I joined a Motherhood Circle for a little weekly group therapy/reality check. The news cycle slowly but surely started offering a little bit of light at the end. The weather turned, the days grew longer.
And last week two pink lines showed up. Yesterday, blood.
In the 6 days she was mine, I dared to imagine her face. I fought back the shadow of grief when it tried to swallow me whole. And now that I'm inside it once again, I have the strength to be with grief without losing sight of what's still good.
I know that we don't get to choose how long we get to be with our children, but that we get to love them forever. Your heart stays bigger, even if you never get to hold that baby in your arms. And that's a fucking gift.
I'm not sure what the point of all this is, except that life is so precious. Since I have no idea how to round this thing out, here are a mixed bag of quotes and song lyrics I’ve held onto this year:
“What is grief if not love enduring?” - Vision from Wandavision
“And if the whole wide world stops singing
And all the stars go dark
I'll keep a light on in my soul
Keep a bluebird in my heart“
-Miranda Lambert “Bluebird”
"I deserve congratulations
I'd never thought that I'd survive
If you tell me I won't make it
That's when I, that's when I
Superbloom, superbloom
Superbloom, superbloom"
-Misterwives “Superbloom”
