Hope through heartache.
Motherhood | November 27, 2020
Have you ever felt peaks of emotion so high, and valleys so low, that you felt dizzy? Sick even? All within the same day, week, or hour? This is how I describe the rollercoaster Paul and I have been on recently. We’ve been taken for a ride that just wouldn’t end… with shock and awe transitioning to excitement and joy, then to worry and fear, which briefly shifted to relief and hope, and finally, to complete devastation. But we are slowly finding our way back to hope. Just a few short weeks ago I found out I was pregnant. It was a surprise that quite literally took our breath away. Yet just as unexpectedly as I found out I was pregnant, we suffered an unexpected loss. We then went from fearing for the life of our baby, to my own health and safety with inexplicable complications. The experience has left us aching and raw.
Regardless of how much of a surprise this baby may have been, it does not make the heartache we are left with any easier to manage. We had slowly started sharing the news, surrounding ourselves with a little army of prayer during those early weeks. And as we shared our joy, we quickly fell into a rhythm of genuine excitement. We discussed bunk beds for the boys, and had so much fun tossing out name ideas, guessing whether baby was a boy or a girl. But now, after almost 2 weeks full of physical and emotional pain, invasive appointments, and countless blood draws, we are left exhausted, confused, and just plain sad. While I’m giving myself permission to fully feel all that I need to right now, taking plenty of time to heal from the mental toll this has taken, as much as the physical, I find myself clinging most to those feelings of hope. Because, despite the sadness, I am filled with happiness and gratitude, too.
I had developed such a connection with this sweet soul, albeit a short one, and that can never be taken away. While I will never get to hold him or her, I will also never lose faith in how I felt during those quiet moments when it was just us and God. I prayed over this baby often, and in a few short weeks I was presented with so many gifts: I will surely never forget the look on my husband’s face when I told him Colton would be a big brother. Now THAT was fun :) Or how through this experience Paul and I shifted from mantras of “a third baby could break us” to “we can totally do this”. We truly opened a door we thought had been closed, and are excited about whatever future lies ahead for our family. What a gift. This baby awakened something in me, and brought us all closer in so many ways. I look into the faces of my two healthy, happy miracles with a more intense love than I ever thought possible. I am so lucky. I have had two relatively easy pregnancies that ended in bringing the most beautiful boys into this world. They teach us daily about life, love, patience, and joy. I have a husband with unwavering strength, who knows exactly when to hold me, or simply give me the space I need to process alone. And when I walked in the door from the hospital last week, visibly upset and crying, Jackson didn’t ask questions; he simply greeted me with a hug, handed me his lovey, and told me he loved me. That boy is pure sweetness.
One day we’ll tell Jack and Colt about this experience. About how we thought we would have another summer baby to celebrate life with… and maybe one day we will. Only God knows the answer to that, and I fully trust his divine timing. But for now, I hope that if you are reading this and can relate in any way, you know that you are not alone. This is hard and heavy and so very personal. Now more than ever do I understand why pregnancy loss is not often discussed, and I am so immensely grateful to the women who have bravely shared their own stories with me. Your vulnerability and openness have given me so much strength. And so I am sharing my story, in hopes that it may comfort someone else one day. Please know that I see you, mama. We will get through this. Have faith and hold onto hope. You are not alone.✨