My family and I will be shining our light in remembrance to our pregnancy, for our baby. On July 15th, 2013, we found out that the baby stopped growing. I was supposed to be 10 weeks, but little one stopped growing around 7 weeks. It was my first miscarriage. I did not think that I could miscarry. I had two successful pregnancies and births. A miscarriage never crossed my mind when I saw two lines on the pregnancy test. I was so stunned, that I took three!
Later, I heard remarks that this is why you wait to announce until after the first trimester. Surprisingly, that hurt. It hurt because it made me aware that pregnancy and infancy loss aren’t talked about. That if I didn’t share so early, then I wouldn’t have to go through the grief of explaining to people what happened. You know it can happen, but just not to you. But, why shouldn’t I scream to the world that I’m pregnant? Because I might miscarry? It’s a shitty reality, but a miscarriage/loss can happen at anytime in a pregnancy. I don’t think it’s fair that mothers are expected to keep quiet until you pass the “safe zone.” A miscarriage is a terrible incident, but it happens. But, it’s okay to talk about it. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. I don’t want to grieve alone. I needed the support, and because I did share so early, the amount of support that I received was overwhelming. I don’t think that I would have been mentally stable to go through my miscarriage without the support I received.
The day I saw the two pink lines on the test, is a day a became a mom to three. On February 5th, I will always remember that was the day our baby was supposed to enter the world. Right now, I should be prepping the nursing, taking anti-acids, going to the bathroom every 5 minutes, driving my husband insane with ridiculous cravings, but I’m not. My boys aren’t rubbing my belly and asking questions. We aren’t prepping our toddler for an invasion in his space. A became a mother because these were moments in my future that were supposed to happen.