The Days After: Remembering My Miscarriage One Year Later

Yesterday marked one year since we found out our baby no longer had a heartbeat and today is one year since the D&C procedure- the start of the hardest days of my life. I tried to write it all down each night, but as you can see from my journal, I couldn’t continue. It would be months until I crawled out of the earth shattering, utterly debilitating heartache I felt with every passing moment. On top of that, I was crippled with fear after finding out I was pregnant with Sonia.

And even though I am beyond grateful for and in love with Sonia, I grieve my baby girl in heaven every single day. I’ll never not talk about her because she will always be a part of me. ⁣
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Truthfully, I’m not certain I’m ready to share this because I’m never ready for the responses I receive when I talk about loss. And, of course, it’s painful to write about, but it’s important for me to share my story with the world because my girl matters and because I know so many mothers out there are as broken as I am and need to hear that they aren’t alone and that the pain isn’t temporary and that that’s okay. ♥️

As you can see, I couldn’t bring myself to write the day we found out we lost her. And then, it became too much to write about after a few days. I sat down to try again and again… until I stopped trying.

Day 1

Day 2
I woke up this morning after hardly sleeping last night. Today is the last day I’ll be pregnant with my sweet girl. I hold onto her in my belly as often as possible, knowing it’s the only way I’ll ever hold her and knowing she’ll be gone by the afternoon.

I made my way downstairs to spend some time with Cody and Lydia and I was happy to see Lydia felt comfortable with Megan, my best friend who came to take care of her during the procedure. Lydia had never been without either me or Cody and it broke my heart to have to leave her. Megan took her to gymnastics and Lydia did really well. This made me feel comfortable enough to leave them together so Cody could take me to the hospital.

I wrote a letter to Lydia before I left. You know, just in case something went wrong during the procedure. I know how hard it is to miss your mom and the thought of her feeling that pain for her whole life breaks me. So I wanted her to have something that she could read over and over reminding her how loved she is. When I was done, I didn’t feel finished. So I wrote a letter to my second daughter, knowing all too well she’d never read it. But I want her to know how loved she is, too.

I felt like Cody had to drag me into the hospital. I knew that in a few hours, I’d have to leave my baby there. It was unbearable. I checked in and changed into a gown and a hair net. They put a bracelet around my wrist and the thought crossed my mind that it would be the only piece of the experience that I’d bring home with me. Moments later, my doctor came in to see if I had any questions. I had just one.

Are we sure she’s gone?

I know this was an insane question, but I hadn’t had any cramps or bleeding and I still felt pregnant. And it was my job to protect my baby. The look in my doctor’s eyes was nothing short of despair.

One thousand and ten percent sure. Your body just hasn’t recognized the loss yet.

After awhile, a nurse came in to check on me and she apologized for my loss. She then started telling me about her friend who was pregnant at the same time she was who lost her baby like I had. It was all incredibly cavalier. After finishing her story, she asked if I was going to have more children.

You’re only 34. You’re young. You have plenty of time to have more children.

I really didn’t know what to say. Yes, I want more children. But if I’m fortunate enough to have them, they won’t bring back this baby. My baby girl. I’ll never hold her. I’ll never look into her eyes or hear her sweet voice. I have to spend my whole life on this earth without her. That pain will never go away.

I remember feeling very overwhelmed as they wheeled me into the operating room. It was enormous and I felt so very small. The last thing I remember before the anesthesia kicked in was the nurse asking my name and birthday. Then she made me tell her why I was there.

So you can take my baby from me.

I woke up in hysterics. I couldn’t open my eyes for quite some time. I kept asking Cody if I could hold her. I could feel the pain in his answer but I asked again and again. I needed to hold her. To bring her home. Even though she was my daughter, my baby, she wasn’t even big enough to hold… not even to say goodbye.

I cried harder than ever as we pulled away from the hospital because I was leaving her there. Alone. I asked my doctor what would happen to her and she said she’d be sent to pathology and then to the incinerator.

And then you just throw her away?

Yes.

I tried to spend some time with Lydia when I returned home, but I didn’t want her to see me cry nonstop. So, I went upstairs and crawled into bed. I had some pain but didn’t want to take pain meds…just in case they might hurt the baby. I know how crazy that sounds.

Cody brought Lydia in to say goodnight and she was very interested in my bracelet. She wanted me to take it off and give it to her, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to lose it. I hugged her tighter than ever and kissed her goodnight. Then I laid there for many, many hours until my eyes were almost swollen shut from crying. Cody brought me a pain pill and I gave in. I slept all night.

Day 3
I’ve been lying in bed all day today. I have to pee often- just like when I was pregnant- but I’ve been holding it in until its too painful to wait any longer. You see, this morning there was what my doctor called tissue in my toilet. The first thing I saw when I woke up was a piece of my baby. In the toilet. And it shattered me. So, here I am- lying in bed- crying every time I have to go.

Cody said I received some beautiful flowers from a friend today. I haven’t been downstairs to see them. My mother-in-law left a voicemail asking if we know what we’re having. She doesn’t know that we aren’t having a baby anymore. I had her already. Now she’s gone.

My phone is full of messages from my closest friends checking in on me, but I don’t want to respond because my honest answer of how I’m feeling would crush them.

I keep waiting for the pregnancy heartburn to go away. It’s the last of the lingering pregnancy symptoms and I’ll cry once I don’t feel it any more.

I showered today and it ruined the writing on my bracelet. I sobbed as I cut it off my wrist.

The tissue. The bracelet. It’s all gone now.

I can’t breathe.
——-
After spending all day in bed, I forced myself downstairs to have dinner with Lydia. Her giggles fill me back up and I feel alive for the first time today. My sweet girl. One of my sweet girls. The only one I’ll ever hold.

—-

We told Cody’s family today. My sister-in-law texted and my mother-in-law called, both excitedly curious to know what we are having. I asked Cody many times to call his parents, but he couldn’t. I texted my sister-in-law.

It was a girl. We lost her yesterday.

She told Cody’s parents for us and they immediately called and left a voicemail. I listened to it three times as I fell to the floor crying. The pain in my father-in-law’s voice was tangible. I was so sad for them and for their loss. And I wished, more than anything, that I could hear me daddy’s voice in that moment. I was still crying when Cody came downstairs. I told him and he said it was too hard to tell people because each conversation felt like he was losing her all over again.

I crawled back into bed.

Day 4

Day 5

Day 9

… I can’t.