Huumm. How do I even start this post?
I’m at a loss.
Let me just throw this out there. I love being pregnant. I love the endorphin high I get when I’m building a body for one of my heavenly fathers spirits to come down to. I love that I feel a billion times prettier than normal, I love feeling the baby kick in side me, I love that my boobs resemble a super model. I love being exhausted from the smallest tasks. I love how my husband cleans the house. I’m not gonna lie… I also love how nice everyone else is to you when you start showing… people open doors and pick up heavy items to help you.
(I love this charm and I wish that I could find it somewhere... Love Love Love)
It’s like you’ve moved to Texas without all the moving. But when your little peanut jumps ship early, in less than a blink of an eye your dreams of expanding your family can be shattered. I guess that’s the easiest way to phrase a miscarriage. Jake and I went in for our 8 week appt and ultrasound only to find out that the baby stopped growing at week 7 and that they couldn’t find a heart beat. I was in disbelief when the sonogram tech told us that she didn’t have good news. Disbelief wasn’t the right word… maybe denial ?
I still felt pregnant. No spotting or cramping. I went home Thursday and searched the internet for stories of women who had a misdiagnosed miscarriage. That gave me hope. We scheduled another sonogram for 2 weeks. The strangest part was that deep down I had prayed for help. Usually my prayers are not answered that quickly. I felt calm. I had asked for a blessing from my husband to help me through this difficult time and that really helped too. I also scoured over my patriarchal blessing.
That helped me settle down somewhat too. So I guess hope alone didn’t carry me through this ordeal. I could feel the spirit guarding my heart. Three days later I stood there crying in the bathroom, pleading with my Heavenly Father. I couldn’t believe it was really over. My little baby boy wouldn’t get his chance. My emotions were out of control, but the feelings inside My heart were surprisingly calm. All I wanted to do was give Sophie a little brother to play with; now that wouldn’t happen. The due date was even around birthday. Summer baby- what a bonus, they would be only one year apart in school.
Sigh.
My mind just kept racing….
Maybe it was better that I didn’t get to see the heartbeat at all? Would that have made it more real? Maybe I shouldn’t have cleaned the oven? Those chemicals are pretty harsh.
Maybe it was when I slipped and fell on the ice? Did I take any medications that could cause this? What was it that went wrong?
I wanted answers….
Why
Was this little boy’s skin not developing? Was his brain on the outside of his head? Did he even get a heartbeat? Damn it.
Why didn’t I get my baby boy?
My summer baby boy.
The anguish that lasted for days… then anger set in. not just any anger, some type of rage. It was a rage strong enough to go with the extreme cramping I was going through. Rage that made me want to scrub floors until the hurt went away. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. I didn’t need their pity. I just wanted to stay in my room and writhe... It’s not like I could really do anything else… It wasn’t going anywhere… with the intense labor contractions… my uterus was trying to clean itself out. The Dr. gave me some Tylenol. Gee thanks... Tylenol. The wonder drug. NOT. It didn't even touch the pain. The contractions were amazingly painful.
Lame. The only way I could even sleep at night… is if I took a strong sleeping aid.
While I’m venting… I have to say I do not like the terminology used when "medically" talking about miscarriage. Why does it all have to be about abortion, missed abortion, incomplete abortion, threatened abortion...And not to sound too much like Seinfeld but… what’s the deal with "Pregnancy Loss". The phrases "she lost the pregnancy" or "she lost the baby"makes me mad. To me the word "lost" implies some type of responsibility. I guess it's the nicest way to put it but I don't like it.
When you usually lose something, it is because of your own careless or forgetfulness. When I lost the car keys it was my fault because I forgot where I put them. To say that I lost the pregnancy, it is just wrong! It’s not "lost" it was taken away, for what reasons I will probably never know (until I get to the other side… and then there will be a conversation with heavenly father). I guess it’s just a semantics issue- pregnancies are not capable of being lost, because that would assume that we have some sort of control over them. I guess I feel that this is something that is out of my control. That’s what everyone is telling me anyway.
Speaking of what to say (language /terminology… and how to adequately describe the situation) I’m at a loss for words. It seems I can’t find the right ones, the ones that fit perfectly to portray my feelings. The words that will help me heal or at least ignore the hurt. There’s gotta be a haiku somewhere… poets are good with words. If only Wayne Campbell or Garth Algar could help me out with this.
I digress.
Anguish- somewhat describes my mental state. If there was a word that combined anguish and exhaustion that might be a step in the right direction. EX-GUISH sounds like a gross slug that has just been stepped on… on the sidewalk. Ew. Maybe… Ang-haustion?
Hmm.
New word making isn’t my job, obviously.
Am I going through this challenge now just to have something that the “future me” can reflect on? That sucks. What a lame reason for a miscarriage.
Sometimes when the part of me that tries to help by thinking “almost everyone has a miscarriage” … I get more angry. Guess what. I’m not everyone or almost everyone. Or even the 1 in 5 quoted so often.
I don’t wanna hear it.
I want to hear 165 BPM on the sonogram.
I want to be able to wrap up a 3D image of the baby and give it out as a Christmas present. I want some little spirit to come down from heaven and bless our family. I want my summer delivery. I’d even love for my water to break in WalMart again if it meant giving birth to a healthy 7 lb 3 oz. Little Man.
I’m not usually a bitter person and I don’t want this experience to have that effect on me I wish there was a way for me to learn something from this with out really having to go through it. Now I understand how painful a natural miscarriage can be. The following words don’t really do it justice; aching, soreness, throbbing, te
nderness, agony, sorrow, anguish, grief, agony. Torture is more appropriate I think.
This poem helped (helps me) … Don’t know who it’s by…
I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.
"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"
"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."
"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby here."
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.
"I wish that I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child smile,
With all the other children and say...
'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.
I feel so lucky to have a Mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quick,
My Mommy set me free.
I miss my Mommy oh so much, But I visit her each day.
When she goes to sleep, On her pillow's where I lay
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek, And whisper in her ear.
Mommy don't be sad today, I'm your baby and I'm here.'
"So you see my dear sweet ones,
Your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.
They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
They'll be at the gates for you.
So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
It's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.
Though some on earth may not realize,
Until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day
And know that you're the best mom!"
I guess this means that I have an angel baby watching over me now…
Which to can be a comforting thought.
Especially since Breinholts tend to die young...maybe this means I will have someone waiting for me when I go. I'm pretty sure I won't out live Jake... He's got too much Page in him.
But some times … I wonder when does the spirit enter the body? Do I get to see my baby again if it never got a heartbeat? Does it still qualify as a child to be mine forever?
My mind replays all the videos that I've looked up on the internet of 7 and8 week baby sonograms, at times the flashes give me hope but I hate that I can’t turn my brain off. I’m still unsettled. I don’t know if these feelings will ever go away.
I can't even talk about it... So I thought I'd just write.
This Christmas has been super hard.
