It's a Heavy One

To say that I don’t find life ironic would be a blatant lie. I couldn’t never deny the correlation of life events even if I wanted to. The last couple of weeks have been hard for me, and that my friends is putting it lightly; it's been bordering traumatic for me. We’re all aware at how much of a challenge February is for me all on its own. But this year took me for a new ride, one I would have rather of opted out of.

As I’m still trying to figure out my daughter’s health concerns, mine decided they weren't going to wait any longer to step into the light. I found myself in a completely unfamiliar spot in life and one that I’m sure I’d never want to be in again. I was writing this hoping the physical pain would kick in to distract all emotional pain but by 2 am, every square inch of my body was hurting and I was still left in the turmoil of endless mixed emotions.

I should be thinking about two days from now. Two days until I’m 35 and how I can reflect on how far I’ve come in life. The personal growth I’ve made, how proud of myself I am, and really start laying out the plans for our future and our five year plans. However, I am here fresh from the hospital after being told that I have in fact had a miscarriage.

It's a moment I never thought I'd find myself in. For whatever reason, my body said no and there was absolutely nothing I could do but fight off the guilt that I wasn't good enough. The wonder of did I do something wrong, should I have done less or more? And the knowledge to know, miscarriages just happen.

As an empath I can often relate to others on such a deeper level but this was never one I was able to understand. I’ve spent the last couple weeks being told that the likelihood that this was going to happen was greater than that of being able to hold another baby of my own.

The question of the hour is, “are you ok?” But I don’t know what I am. Four days ago I had a baby and now it's vanished. It was a seed, a tiny apple seed size if that, because it stopped growing long before I even knew it. My body was still doing the pregnancy things, while my baby simply wasn't.

I’ve been trying to prepare myself for the ultimate fate but I still held onto some hope. I also know that at the end of the day, I have to trust in God and His plan because that’s all I’ve got and the only way I’ll survive. I learned this very quickly five years ago, and I can’t ignore the fact either that five years ago I lost my brother a week before my birthday, still a loss I haven’t recovered from. And here on his five year anniversary, again before a day I would otherwise try to celebrate, I’m at a loss. I’ve lost a being that I hadn’t gotten to know yet but would have been over the moon to raise and love. I’ve lost what could be the last chance I will have for more biological children.

To explain a miscarriage and it’s emotional toll would be like explaining quantum physics to a six year old and expecting them to understand after only one lesson. It’s a roller coaster of natural emotions mixed with sound medical knowledge. It's especially harder for me since my baby is gone but my body still has more to process before it’s healed and back to normal. If there was only one thing I’d ask for, it would be to be held. I just want to lie down, be held, and for a moment let someone else comfort me rather than trying to do it all on my own.

My heart is sad, my body is in a weird transition, but through it all my daughter is my shining light and honestly, how could I ask for anything more than that.