October 2013

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Month.
This has never held any meaning for me until this year.
We found out we were pregnant with (what should have been) Baby #4 on October 1, 2012.  It was a blighted ovum and the pregnancy ended mid November, just a week before Thanksgiving.  If you are unclear about blighted ovums, you are much like we were.  We'd never heard of that before.  Conception happens.  A sac develops.  In our case, a yolk develops.  Then it stops.  Nothing beyond that, even though the sac continues to grow and your pregnancy symptoms continue to worsen.  I suffered this for almost 10 weeks.

A few months later, we were pregnant again.
October 25, 2013 was my due date with pregnancy #5.  Right now, I would have been complaining about how big I am.  How tired I am.  How I wish this baby would come out.  Because I always deliver late.

In the world of pregnancy and infant loss (and, my! there are many bereaved mothers out there)  the baby you deliver after a loss is considered a rainbow baby.  We discovered we were pregnant just before Valentines day 2013.  It would have been our rainbow baby.  Elijah and I made this for Benton after I had a positive pregnancy test.

A bit apprehensive, we didn't want to get too excited until we saw the baby on the ultrasound and heard the heartbeat.
148 Beats Per Minute.  Everything looked perfect.

We lost this baby as I was entering week 13.  Since I have 3 living children, I am pretty quick to begin to show.  The only photo I have of my small bump.

As the weeks passed, I was certain this pregnancy would end with a fat baby in my arms for Halloween.  So I started his/her quilt.

On April 18, 2013 we buried our baby here.

“Do not overrate what you have received, nor envy others. He who envies others does not obtain peace of mind.”

- Buddha

Envious.  

In this grief journey, envy has by far become the most difficult emotion to move beyond.  The growing bellies of friends and strangers can send me into a fog of jealousy so thick I can hardly see anything else.  I am attempting to practice lovingkindness meditation to ground myself and my thoughts, but I continually give in to the sadness.  I'm trying to prepare myself for not having any more children.  We may or may not try again in the future and my heart needs to be ready for that.  I keep thinking the more I tell myself I'm at peace with the possibility that my birthing days are behind me, I can will it into existence.  I'm struggling with the idea that the baby I long for might just be my hearts way of replacing the pain of our previous losses.  I know that will not be the case.  Those lost will remain lost and no addition will remove that ache, although I cannot help but feel it would lessen it.   

Becoming An Expert On Grieving

We've just lost another baby.

Last week, I was entering second trimester.
Tonight, I had two beers.
I had two beers because I am no longer carrying the baby.
Tonight, the baby rests peacefully in a pot near my back door.

After the miscarriage last November, we waited to try again. I was still nursing my youngest and taking birth control, but we got pregnant anyway. I won't lie. I was beside myself with joy. And worry. After three successful pregnancies I'd have never thought we would miscarry. Last November really gave us a reality check. Nothing is certain.

After several blood tests to confirm, we were definitely pregnant. I was around two weeks when we found out. Thinking this would be our last child, I was so grateful for finding out so soon. That way I could soak up every last detail of my final pregnancy. We had our first ultrasound at seven weeks. The heartbeat was perfect. Everything looked exactly as it should. I just knew, if we saw the heartbeat, we were definitely having this baby. Home birth plans were in the works. I even started a quilt.

I started spotting at 12 weeks. This has happened during all of my pregnancies so we tried not to worry. I called my midwife. She agreed. Might be nothing. If it would make me feel better, why not come in and listen to the heartbeat on Friday.
I waited.
I worried.
She ended up attending a birth that Friday.
My spotting turned into passing tissue. She sent me to have an ultrasound done without her.
The ultrasound confirmed our fears.
The baby had no heartbeat.

I wanted to deliver this baby at home. Naturally and unassisted. It didn't happen. A week passed with no change in my cervix but I continued to lose blood. I needed a D&C. My doctor made sure the baby would be returned to us so we could bury him/her as we saw fit.
We will never know the gender. The doctor was able to remove the baby, and the sac, all completely intact. We left "baby" in the sac, as it was his/her only home for the entirety of it's (much too short) life.

 Now, blooming purple shamrocks grow above where our baby lay.