A few days ago I watched Kate on ‘This Is Us’ experience her miscarriage along with the rest of America and I was a wreck. So many memories flooded my brain and I couldn’t help the tears. Miscarriage is not only part of my story, it’s part of ½ of my friends stories too. Yes, it’s common, but losing your baby along with all of your hopes and dreams for your growing family is crushing. I love that we are allowed to be more open about our miscarriage stories these days. It’s good for our souls to share and have others validate that it’s okay to grieve this life and person we never knew but loved even still.
Trigger Warning: There are graphic details in this post.
I found out at my 8 week check up with my 3rd baby that there was no heartbeat. I decided I wanted to miscarry naturally which was a good and bad decision to be honest. Mentally I thought there might be a chance they didn’t see correctly and the baby was in-fact alive. You see, I have hyper-emesis while pregnant and so even though the baby was dead, I still felt all the sickness because I was technically still pregnant. All of the throwing up and nausea played a mind game on me and I swear I could feel the baby moving. I didn’t want to miscarry. I didn’t want another baby. I wanted this baby. I wanted this one back.
After two emotionally and mentally tapping weeks I still hadn’t passed the baby. So, I went into the Dr. and had him do another ultrasound just to check before I got the pills to help move the miscarriage along.
I couldn’t look at the screen.
I just wanted them to tell me that there was a heartbeat.
But there wasn’t.
I went home with my husband and two small daughters and and sobbed from somewhere deep in my soul while I inserted the pills to get the miscarriage started. My mind was playing so many tricks on me. I thought maybe the baby was still alive and they still messed up. What if I am actually killing this baby?
I crumbled on the floor in a heap of tears while my husband held me.
Once the contractions started I made a hot bath and tucked my knees up under my chin and held my body close while hot tears and waves of emotion would come and go. They told me it could take up to 8 hours to actually miscarry but for me it went fast. I really didn’t know what to expect even though they told me everything to expect.
I don’t think anything can prepare you for what you see if you choose to see.
Within one hour I passed my very tiny small child that was the shape of a cashew and perfectly perfect. To see this small human of mine was a beautifully torturous thing. I picked my baby up out of the toilet and held him…two little arm buds, two leg buds, and two eyes.
My husband came in one part shocked, one part grossed out because of the blood scene, and one part in wonder and sadness to see our baby.
I had a dream he was a boy and so we named him Elijah.
We placed his tiny little body in a box that was lined with satin from one of my dresses and we buried him under a tree in my parents yard. My husband and I had a little funeral and we said goodbye.
After we buried him, I wrote him a long letter about what I had hoped for him. How I wish he could have met his amazing sisters who were so excited to know him. How I wish he was born into a room anticipting his arrival, like his sisters, instead of into a toilet. How I wish I could heave held him in my arms instead of my hand. How I wish I could have tucked him into bed instead of the ground. How I wish we had met with joy instead of utter sadness and brokenness. How I will always be his mother and how greatful I was and am that I got to hold him inside my body even if for such a short time.
And yet he was gone.
It’s the weirdest thing knowing that had we had Elijah, we wouldn’t have had Wyatt. Wyatt and the girls are my heart. I almost feel guilty when watching ‘This Is Us’ because it strikes a cord in my soul and a flood of memories rush back; I feel that ache as if it happened yesterday.
I still miss him. And I think I always will.
I am writing this while my eyes are brimmed and pouring water down my cheeks. We all grieve our miscarriages differently and that’s okay. There is a beauty in the process and a unity that happens when I get to stand with another hurting mother. I didn’t understand before losing Elijah what that meant, and now I do. I will forever miss him and because of that I will also forever use that pain for good. To identify, validate, and love women who have also experienced this pain.
Love you all,