The sum of two wholes.

Here it is.... what I hope will be my final post that focuses on my miscarriage. I've divided it into two parts: Part One is simply something I found while fishing around on the internet this  last week. While my heart is now healing, I feel the need to share this with others whose pain is more fresh and tender. I wish I had come across this months ago because I know it would've been comforting to me then, so I hope that someone else can find the comfort in it now. Part Two of this post is what it is.... no explanation needed.

Part One:

What We Wish Everyone Knew about Pregnancy Loss.

By Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer

When trying to help a woman who has lost a baby, the best rule of thumb is a matter of manners: don't offer your personal opinion of her life, her choices, her prospects for children. No woman is looking to poll her acquaintances for their opinions on why it happened or how she should cope.

-Don't say, "It's God's Will." Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides, many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them less terrible.

-Don't say, "It was for the best - there was probably something wrong with your baby." The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making me so sad. My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by pointing that out.

-Don't say, "You can always have another one." This baby was never disposable. If had been given the choice between losing this child or stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would have said, "Where's the fork?" I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children.

-Don't say, "Be grateful for the children you have." If your mother died in a terrible wreck and you grieved, would that make you less grateful to have your father?

-Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it." I loved my son or daughter. Whether I lost the baby after two weeks of pregnancy or just after birth, I loved him or her.

-Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It's not something I enjoy, being grief-stricken. I wish it had never happened. But it did and it's a part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline, not mine - or yours.

-Don't say, "Now you have an angel watching over you." I didn't want her to be my angel. I wanted her to bury me in my old age.

-Don't say, "I understand how you feel." Unless you've lost a child, you really don't understand how I feel. And even if you have lost a child, everyone experiences grief differently.

-Don't tell me horror stories of your neighbor or cousin or mother who had it worse. The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to have this happen six times, or that I could carry until two days before my due date and labor 20 hours for a dead baby. These stories frighten and horrify me and leave me up at night weeping in despair. Even if they have a happy ending, do not share these stories with me.

-Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up. If I say, "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone.

- Don't say, "It's not your fault." It may not have been my fault, but it was my responsibility and I failed. The fact that I never stood a chance of succeeding only makes me feel worse. This tiny little being depended upon me to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it. I was supposed to care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give him a childhood. I am so angry at my body you just can't imagine.

-Don't say, "Well, you weren't too sure about this baby, anyway." I already feel so guilty about ever having complained about morning sickness, or a child I wasn't prepared for, or another mouth to feed that we couldn't afford. I already fear that this baby died because I didn't take the vitamins, or drank too much coffee, or had alcohol in the first few weeks when I didn't know I was pregnant. I hate myself for any minute that I had reservations about this baby. Being unsure of my pregnancy isn't the same as wanting my child to die - I never would have chosen for this to happen.

-Do say, "I am so sorry." That's enough. You don't need to be eloquent. Say it and mean it and it will matter.

-Do say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you." We both need to hear that.

-Do say, "I have lit a candle for your baby," or "I have said a prayer for your baby."
 
-Do send flowers or a kind note - every one I receive makes me feel as though my baby was loved. Don't resent it if I don't respond.

-Don't call more than once and don't be angry if the machine is on and I don't return your call. If we're close friends and I am not responding to your attempts to help me, please don't resent that, either. Help me by not needing anything from me for a while. 

If you're my boss or my coworker:

-Do recognize that I have suffered a death in my family - not a medical condition. 

-Do recognize that in addition to the physical after effects I may experience, I'm going to be grieving for quite some time. Please treat me as you would any person who has endured the tragic death of a loved one - I need time and space.

-DO understand if I do not attend baby showers/christening/birthday parties etc. And DON'T ask why I can't come. 

Please don't bring your baby or toddler into the workplace. If your niece is pregnant, or your daughter just had a baby, please don't share that with me right now. It's not that I can't be happy for anyone else, it's that every smiling, cooing baby, every glowing new mother makes me ache so deep in my heart I can barely stand it. I may look okay to you, but there's a good chance that I'm still crying every day. It may be weeks before I can go a whole hour without thinking about it. You'll know when I'm ready - I'll be the one to say, "Did your daughter have her baby?" or, "How is that precious little boy of yours? I haven't seen him around the office in a while."

Above all, please remember that this is the worst thing that ever happened to me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy. But my baby's death is monolithic and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bear with me.

Part Two:

Closure.

(Originally written 5.31.11)

I've been thinking about this post for days and everything I want to say. So with some time on my hands, here it goes....

May was a pretty awful month with a few shining moments.

This month has been nothing short of an emotional rollercoaster for me. One minute I'm up.... excited about my "rainbow baby" and everything in store for this family of mine. The next minute I'm down.... grieving the loss of the "angel baby" that could've been here in my arms. It seemed like I just couldn't find the happy medium anywhere and in all honesty, it deeply affected the two greatest aspects of my life.

My marriage suffered greatly this month. Mike and I have been at each other's throats constantly. (Granted, the stress of our house being under repair/remodel hasn't helped matters much.) All I wanted was to feel like this mattered to him too.... but never once was I given that impression. And rather than tell him that, I just yelled. About everything. It wasn't good. During a fight last week I said to him, "If you think it's hard living with me, I need you to understand that it's even harder being me right now." Thankfully, I think my point was received.

My ability to parent has suffered. I didn't have the emotional energy to pour into Liana like I usually do. Of course I still adored her but when I can barely take care of myself, how am I expected to take care of a two year old too? It wasn't easy and I'll be the first to admit that Liana has watched FAR too much television this past month as a result. Again, not good.

In addition, I've been emotionally removed from some of the things my family has been going through as well as my friends. It dawned on me this weekend that because I've been so wrapped up in what I was feeling, I often forgot to ask about what others were feeling... not cool Haley, not cool.

Thankfully, my job did not suffer. I found solace in work.... it was my escape. The days I worked were the only days I didn't feel miserable. I didn't dwell on my emotions while I was working. It was helpful to focus on the problems of others rather than on my own.

The days/week surrounding our May 17th due date were definitely the worst. Dates have always been significant to me so to think of the things I could've been experiencing as we came to the 10th... the 17th... and all the dates surrounding those two.... was painful.

Just as we got past our May 17th due date and I was able to breathe a little, I found myself faced with one more "hurdle". My friends, JJ & Jessie, welcomed their little girl into the world on the 23rd. Jessie had announced her pregnancy last October on the same day that I later miscarried. When I found out that morning that she was expecting too, I was so excited that we were due within a week of each other and that we'd be having babies so close in age. After my miscarriage, however, I watched her belly grow and couldn't help but let my mind go to the different places it was naturally bound to go. I felt so many emotions surrounding her pregnancy and while jealousy reared its ugly head every now and again, I was thankful that it wasn't the most prominent one. More so than anything, I was thrilled for her joy and thankful that her baby was okay. Because no mother should have to endure the loss of a pregnancy or a child.

So while I was excited for her little girl to come into this world, I was also quite scared because I thought baby Madison would be a permanent reminder of what I was missing. For this reason, I feared the day Jessie would make the announcement that she was in labor. I figured it was going to be the straw that broke the camel's back for this aching heart of mine.

However, that was not the case. While the 23rd was intensely emotional for me, the next day brought something quite unexpected.... a strong sense of peace to my heart.

After work on the 24th, I went up to visit Jessie, JJ, and baby Madison in the hospital. I won't lie.... I was really terrified to walk into that hospital room. I stood outside of the door as I washed my hands and thought, "Can I really do this?" but before I knew it, I was walking in. And as I held Madison, my first reaction was pure excitement.

Excitement at their beautiful baby girl and everything in store for JJ & Jess. But even more surprisingly, excitement for me. Because five months from now, I hope to be holding my own baby in these arms.  Only for a fleeting moment did I feel sadness over what I didn't have right then and there....instead, I was overjoyed at what was still in store for me.

Thank you, God. For proving me wrong and for showing me the way. Again.

I thought Madison would be another source of grief in my life because she would always be a "reminder". Instead, I found the opposite to be true. She gave me closure. Something I so desperately needed. Something my heart was ready for. She gave me joy... for her parents and myself. She gave me hope for everything that's still to come.

Since then, my heart has been lighter. I've been able to focus more on this pregnancy and not the last one. I haven't cried.... and as a person who rarely cries but has done so frequently these past few weeks, that's a huge step in the right direction. I feel like I'm on a steady upswing and that the ground I'm standing on is growing more solid as the days pass. I pray for no more mis-steps and I pray the foundation I'm standing on doesn't crumble again. I'm not sure my heart could handle much more of that.

I've got a lot to look forward to these days and while I'm still a bit timid at times, I do feel the excitement brewing down deep. Our 20 week ultrasound is just 2 short weeks away and while this brings up a significant amount of fear in my heart, I continue to remind myself that more likely than not, our baby is perfect and healthy (and according to Liana, a girl!). Our house is finally put back together which is a HUGE weight off my shoulders. The kitchen remodel looks amazing and I couldn't be happier with it. At this point, it seems that life is starting to come together a little bit more. Finally. :)

So yes, May has been a tough month. One of my toughest months to date, in fact. June arrives tomorrow and while I'm ready to kick May to the curb, I am thankful for this new peace within my heart and I know I couldn't have gotten to this point without going through all of those points. I know that every single day I lived through this month, whether good or bad, added up me being right here, right now which makes it all worth while. I know our angel baby will always be a part of my story and I wouldn't want it any other way. But my heart needs to move on. And my family needs it to move on, too.

For that reason, I pray that this is the last entry I write that focuses on my miscarriage and I pray that the ground beneath my feet stays strong.