It has been 23 days since I miscarried my 4th baby. At this point in my motherhood journey, the “1 in 4” statistic feels laughable. I mean, in the hollow empty laughter sort of way.
I intended on calling this post “Another Miscarriage” but couldn’t shake the feeling that all I want to express is this sucks. So I almost hit publish with the title “Miscarriage Sucks.”
For me, this is another miscarriage. But it isn’t just another miscarriage. This isn’t the first time I’ve lost a baby. But this is the first time I lost our little Junebug.
It came to me after the miscarriage, when I was trying to put all of my feelings into words. It was only within the month of June that we got to feel the joy of this little bug’s presence. Junebug. It stuck.
I got a positive pregnancy test on 6/25, exactly 2 months after going off birth control and “officially” deciding we were ready to have another baby. It was bliss.
We bought Evelyn a “big sister” shirt, announced to friends and family, and spent the next week feeling overjoyed–and nauseous–imagining life as a family of 4.
On 6/30, I started bleeding.
On 6/31, I called the Midwives who had delivered Evelyn. I described my symptoms, and was told to come in immediately for an ultrasound and bloodwork.
At 1pm, I held my breath as the Midwife asked “do you want me to explain what I’m seeing?” But I already knew. I could see my now-empty uterus. I could almost feel the lack of viable heartbeat. “I do not see a baby. I’m so sorry.”
The Midwife then turned to Andrew and said, “are you going to be able to take care of her today?” And to Evelyn, “give mommy extra snuggles, okay?” My little family–my precious, beautiful, wonderful little family–was tasked with the responsibility of loving me a little harder. I was told to rest; “call if anything changes.”
A few hours later we received the phone call with the blood results. But I didn’t really need to hear it. “Your HCG levels are no longer compatible with a viable pregnancy.”
My pregnancy was over.
When I was pregnant with Evelyn, my OBGYN (before swapping to Midwives) was in the middle of a pelvic exam when she exclaimed, “you have a really great pelvis for childbirth!” I thought that may be the oddest thing someone could tell me about my body.
But then my Midwife told me that my “uterus is good at cleaning itself out.” Which, in miscarriage terms, means I didn’t require a D&C. Lucky me.
When you have a toddler, life doesn’t slow down. There is no moment to grieve. More of the time, there isn’t even space to breathe (hell, I don’t even pee alone anymore). Things just keep moving forward.
Evelyn doesn’t know that there was a baby in mommy’s tummy. She has no idea that it’s empty once more.
She may have noticed that mama holds onto her a little tighter, insists snuggles last a little longer, and rocks her before bed again. But she doesn’t mind. She has no idea that she’s healing mama’s soul.
via Instagram @simplytauri
parenthood: capable of taking you to the highest heights and the lowest lows all within a matter of moments. it has been a whirlwind of emotions around here this week. on 6/25, i got a positive pregnancy test—and then a few more for good measure. and on 6/30, i started bleeding. today, we went to the hospital to get an ultrasound and measure my hcg levels. what we saw was a now-empty uterus and declining numbers.
i don’t know what it is about a successful rainbow baby that makes you feel invincible, but man, after finally getting my perfect babe, i felt like miscarriages were a thing of the past for me. false. here’s the universe smacking me upside the head with this one.
for 5 blissful days, evelyn was going to be a big sister. i wrapped the positive test and told andrew at the park. we went and bought a “big sister” onesie and let evelyn “tell” my family the news. we fantasized about telling the rest of our family at evelyn’s first birthday party next week. for 5 blissful days, this little junebug made their presence known, and we cherished every moment as a family of 4.
so it looks like evelyn is not going to be a big sister in march. and maybe not for a while after that. i’m not sure if i’ll get my “two-under-two.” it seems like my heavenly babes may just be meant to forever outnumber those i get to snuggle earth-side.
for those who have already had the opportunity to celebrate with us, thank you for sharing in the joy of our little junebug. my heart hurts a little more knowing yours will too. but big pain heals best in community, and i feel at peace knowing that this little life won’t slip by unnoticed.
and to my littlest of babes, you were loved so big during your short life. we loved you hard, baby. you brought us smiles and laughter, optimism and hope. you truly showered us with joy. see you in forever, junebug.
so we’ll play at the park today. we’ll snuggle evelyn a little closer. and we’ll continue to cherish the precious days we get as a family of 3.
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