Before I begin, let me state this...This is my beauty blog...and I will write whatever I will that helps me feel healthy and beautiful. Also, I'm missing ONE thing in order to upload videos again. I already have one edited and ready to go, but need the encoder to do so.
Okay...Those that have been following me pretty regularly, knows that yesterday, January 28, was supposed to be my due date. I wasn't sure how I would feel on the day of, so I thought I would write this the day after. That and I wanted to go to my support group last night and discuss all that I was feeling before making it public.
Generally, it was a rough day. But it wasn't in a way that I thought it would be. Instead of the general morning of the loss of my child, it felt more like....the loss of hope? Anyone that has been through this would understand what I'm coming across. Yes, I'm still sad that I never got to spend any time with my little one, so don't take that as I am already over this. It will be something that I will never truly be over.
I realized that, with this have happening, that I will never take my family for granted. All those mom's that struggle with the teething, crying, burping, changing the smelly diaper....all those little things that most parent's take for granted, I lost out on. That was the hope that I missed. I knew that it would be hard...No one ever said parenting would be easy....
Not to sway, but someone once told me that I was torturing myself. She's never been through anything like this. Yet, she felt that she needed to tell me how I should grieve. Because she thought that I was holding on to this....loss...death...miscarriage in general, a little too hard. And because that we have similar faiths that I should take comfort in the fact that, ONE day I would be able to be with my baby up in Heaven.
I do. I know that, my little one missed out on suffering, heart ache, death, misfortune, etc... but that's not what I was sad about. My child died. It's that simple. You know that saying that every mother knows what it's like to have her heart on the outside? It splits every time you have a baby. And this is true. The little part of my heart that split and was growing into it's own, died. And my heart was torn from my chest, from my body....
She doesn't truly know how blessed she is. She gets to go home, every night, to her family. She gets to hug and kiss and play with her babies. When it's time for bed, she gets to kiss them good night, or cuddle with them until they fall asleep. She gets to wake up in the middle of the night and just check up on them. She will never understand that pain that I went through, both physically and emotionally. And I pray that she never has to.
It's the loss of hope. No...Not complete hope. It's the loss of hope for THAT little one. Knowing that yesterday my life was supposed to change. But it didn't. I knew that when I woke up this morning, my life would be the same as it was yesterday and that it will be the same tomorrow. Instead of fighting to get a car seat in my car to bring a baby home from the hospital, I get to fight with a cat again to give me my hair tie and to leave cords alone.
I still have hope...hope for the future. I now know that I can get pregnant. I have hope that my next pregnancy will run full term and the hope that I will bring my baby home.
I also have to turn and look a the world with different eyes. Even if, with my next pregnancy, that I manage to miscarry...I'm not going to hold onto the fact of being pregnant silent. I want my next child to feel all the love it has, not just from me and my husband, but from everyone. To know that it is truly loved even before it officially entered this world. I will shout it from the roof tops. Because, my babies (past and future) will always know love!
I also want other women who have gone through this to know that, you're not alone. And for those that have luckily never went through this, to see a little into this world. It's hard....and cold. And we mommies who lost our little ones, are just that....mommies no matter what.
So, with a Day past due, I've come to terms. I grief with hope. And
that's honestly the best way I can describe it. I'm not dwelling, or
holding onto. This is something that will forever be apart of me. Apart
of my husband. Apart of my family.