Tag Archives: miscarriage


12 Oct

So, we’re here again. Fall. Usually my absolute favorite time of the year, but difficult this year. I keep having flashbacks to the early days of my miscarried pregnancy.

I found out that I was pregnant on September 22, 2012. I remember so vividly how my heart literally skipped a beat in my chest when I plucked up the courage to peek and saw those double pink lines.  Thinking back that day I realized that I knew the exact date and time that our baby was conceived! (Yes, timed and targeted baby dancing does work! Lol!)

So it’s been a year since I felt that pulling and stretching in my lower abdomen of my child settling into his new home. It’s been a year since cravings and waves of nausea caused me to cook or order all kinds of food then pack them into the freezer in disgust the next minute. It’s been a year since I prayed over my unborn child and hoped he would look just like his daddy. It’s been a year.

The cold weather is bringing back so many memories. I have no sweaters to wear this year because last fall/winter I was shopping for and dressing for my bigger size. I remember waddling with my newfound cargo between the bus and metro, trying to escape the elements and silently cussing the people who wouldn’t give a seat to the lady with the small paunch.  It’s been a year.

In July this year a friend asked if I have certain hard days. At the time I told her, “no” because my grieving seemed to come upon me suddenly, with no rhyme or reason. But I guess I now know that this time of the year is hard for me. And it will only get worse. I’m dreading the one-year anniversary of the actual miscarriage and dreaded D&C.

Has Fall been forever ruined for me?



25 Aug

I want a baby.

I found myself crying last night as I drove to the grocery store and again as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep. I don’t know why the pain is as acute right now, but I wish I had our baby.

Most days I only give a cursory glance to the rearview mirror, to the time I was pregnant, to the hopes and dreams I had for our first child that never came to be. But I’m awake now with a gnawing pain in my stomach, in my heart– that miscarriage took something real from me. Something that I now really miss, something I really wanted.

Closure… and some damn baby formula

6 Aug

I think I’m in a good place.  Most days, I’m actually in a great place.  It’s one of the benefits of having had surgery, transfusions, tubes down your throat, all kinds of medication counter-indications, etc. Somewhere in the middle of trying to stay alive you forget a little about your past miseries.  So most days I don’t actively remember that this whole thing started 8 months ago with a second-trimester miscarriage.

When we first found out that our baby’s heart had stopped, I thought I would live the rest of my days cynical and broken.  At that time I didn’t know that nights curled on the bathroom floor in pain that wouldn’t let me sleep would quickly replace the “why-me” blues of losing a pregnancy.

I’ll tell you more of my story someday, but today I want to talk about closure.  Feeling well physically does wonders for helping your mind also heal.  Though my stamina is not what it used to be, I am hale and hearty for the most part.  And my mind is generally at peace. I’ve come to grips with the fact of no heartbeat, and dashed what could have beens.  I’m fine with the not understanding, not knowing why. Most days.

Then there are the days I come home to the mailings from Enfamil.  On the day I came home from my 12-hour D&C, in my anesthesia stupor, I packed up all the baby and parenting magazines, all the free baby bottles and coupons, all the prenatal vitamin samples, and all the free pacifers that I had been so excited to receive in the mail and threw them all in the dumpster.  I couldn’t bring myself to throw away my prayer journal for my baby, the pregnancy books I had ordered, or my ultrasound pictures, but I put those all in the box in the farthest corner of the basement.  I just didn’t want to have to be reminded of what I had just lost.  I didn’t really know how to deal with it all.

A few weeks later when the first Enfamil mailing came, I immediately ran to my email and wrote to them to unsubscribe me from whatever mailing I had inadvertently signed up for.  (I still don’t know when I gave Enfamil my mailing address or email).  When the first cans of baby formula showed up a few weeks later I angrily called their customer service number and asked them to remove me from their mailing list.  The evil thing about this damn baby formula is that it comes at intervals.  So just when I manage to forget, and move on, another set of mailings come.

The ones in the picture below arrived last Friday– almost 8 months to the day of my miscarriage.  Two of them— really?! I need two reminders from you people that my baby isn’t reaching any new milestones or learning to do anything?  If the fact that I’m a public health professional was not enough to make me loathe baby formula in the first place, you guys are doing yourselves no favors.  What do I need to do to get you to stop tormenting me?

Luckily, I’m okay.  Seriously. I can coo at the baby in these mailings and keep the cans of formula for a crisis pregnancy center that my church supports… but what if I wasn’t okay? What if these stupid mailings from an overzealous company were really the thing keeping me from being able to close this chapter and move on with my life?  Thankfully I don’t need to know the answer to those questions.  I just wonder now when they’ll eventually stop trying to sell me on formula for a baby that was never born.