And In Other News...

It’s taken me about a long time to find the words to write this post. For more than a year, I’ve shared my struggles and successes as a mom on this blog. Never in a million years did I think I’d be in the position I am now.

The day after I resigned my position (see last post), we learned I was pregnant again. We cried with happiness and were relieved that, like with Lucas, it didn’t take long to get pregnant. We began to plan, hope, dream, debate names – all the good stuff that comes as you think ahead to the baby on the way. We slowly shared with family members once our doctor confirmed what the pee stick told us.

Then everything changed.

On Canada Day, I noticed some things. Worry did not set in as the symptoms I was experiencing were not unusual for a pregnancy. A few days later, it was followed by some light cramping, so I booked a doctor’s appointment. Just one week after the initial symptoms, it worsened. I knew what was happening. After an ultrasound, our doctor confirmed that the baby that I was 7.5 weeks pregnant with had stopped developing somewhere around 6 weeks. There was no heartbeat and it was smaller than it should be. I was in the process of losing the baby.

This news was confirmed on my last day at work. As colleagues looked for me to say goodbye, I was waiting at the hospital for the ultrasound and the news that our baby was gone. When I returned to the office to collect my things and say my goodbyes, the tears that were in my eyes were for a different goodbye. No one knew – until now.

When I shared the news of my resignation, many friends wondered aloud if another announcement was forthcoming. Little did they know that our baby had come and gone, and that those words reminded us of our loss. It’s not their fault – they did what we all do. Ask an innocent question out of love and caring.

I know this is common – something like 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage – but that was little comfort to us. The weekend that followed, I experienced the worst kind of labour pains…the ones where at the end, you aren’t handed a baby.

Why write about this? Why share this incredibly painful time with the world? Because over the last couple of months, I have felt such an outpouring of love and concern from those that I see every day to others that I only connect via Facebook or Twitter. Some have shared their own experiences of pregnancy loss (you know who you are), which have filled me with hope and helped mourn what might have been. Lucas, the light of my life in addition to my husband, has also helped me be thankful for what I have.

This blog has always been an outlet for me to share, to work through those struggles one faces as a parent, so why should this instance be any different.

It has been a slow process of healing. I am able to talk about the miscarriage in a matter-of-fact way but can catch myself in tears, as I did at two weddings this summer. The right song, a look from my husband, and again those innocent questions from acquaintances about when #2 is coming, set off the waterworks.

Our #2 will come – when it’s time. Until then, we think about what might have been, with hope about what’s yet to come.