Nothing in me wants to write this post.
When I started blogging I was going through all kinds of things and in some ways I felt like I had a lot to prove. All of life’s curves had led me to there. I needed an outlet and this blog became my home, my security blanket. It has nursed me through a broken heart more times than I can count and has given me so much. I have gained friendships and grown up alot. I have changed and shared all the ups and downs along the journey. Then somewhere along the way I changed, I no longer had anything to prove. The heart behind the blog changed.
The girl behind the keyboard changed.
Then in the last year I have sought for my voice a bit, what I want to share…pulled back a lot and changed a lot too.
I honestly have dreaded typing these words. Dreaded in a way facing the feelings, dreaded the judgements that will be out there from people who don’t know all the details. But I feel a constant soft nudge to be the voice for those in my shoes. I wish I could share the picture of how I feel. It’s like when you see a stage and someone is nudging you out there, you resist but get tosseled out into the light.
So here I am raw and stumbling out to share more of my story. And the more loss I experience the more vulnerable and stripped I feel. The more I want to unclaim this story. But here I am… humbled again and putting out my life and my hurt for those of you who understand.
Those of you who scroll through your feeds everyday and rejoice at the new lives growing in all the beautiful bellies but weeping for the lives that keep getting lost in your own. Weeping for the silent lonely road of loss. The isolation. The experience you walk through when you’re the only one who can walk it. I honestly was completely shocked when we lost our first baby. And then we got our precious rainbow and I thought that was my redemption story, my precious Apple was my story! A story that was over. Apple was my end chapter to loss- so I thought.
But then we lost another one.
And then we lost our third.
I was standing in the shower the night after we saw yet another baby with no heartbeat on the sonogram screen. Yet again walked through almost the entire first trimester, weeks of throwing up and fatigue- good bloodwork, good sonograms…then one again, a loss. The hot water was pouring over me as I blankly stared at the wall, barely able to move or process the gravity of the news. The bigger picture- what does this even mean for us? Yet again having to face the comments of others that sting like fire.
It’s taken me longer to gather the courage to write about this one. But, we don’t get to choose our stories.
Weeks later I was walking down the grocery store aisles alone. I had been strong, I had kept it all together, kept positive, kept it all bottled up in a nice pretty package. Nice pretty packages can get messy sometimes. And somewhere as I walked down the aisles it all started to unravel. And the more I tried to hold it in, the faster and harder it came. I made it into the car just quick enough to let out a fierce passion of cries. A heave of loss that weighs so heavy you think you won’t be able to take the next breath. I wept harder thinking about all the women who do this whole deal alone.
They carry it everyday.