As I glance at our family calendar checking the upcoming events in the weeks ahead I am frozen for a minute as I realize it is almost June. I haven’t thought about June in so long, in fact I have subconsciously been avoiding the fact that after May, comes June for quite some time. A month that used to remind me of the sound of laughter, wet swimsuits, popsicle stained faces and freshly mowed grass now has a different meaning to me. Just looking at the word JUNE brings feelings of heartache, questions of why? and a blur of events that all happened far too quickly.
I recently started writing again…which was a hard first step (no not a time issue, I have a lot of free time with 2 toddlers at home, working part time and a house to maintain, said no mom ever) it was because the very last thing I wrote was a different story of my June baby.
I have made a million excuses not to write because I “didn’t have time”, I am too tired, I would rather watch paint dry, the never ending laundry sounds more fun, but really lying to myself was just a sneaky tactic of avoidance. Truth is, I didn’t make time. I have kept myself completely consumed with life moments, tasks, laughter, anger and tears and not truly even thinking about it. The June Baby. You know, compartmentalizing things…its what nurses do best, turn the switch off, put that moment away and move on to the next thing, usually without even allowing ourselves time to feel, time to heal.
Well, the last time that I sat down to write, I uploaded a picture of a positive pregnancy test, and it was the start to a new beginning. I don’t even remember what the date was because I deleted it, I deleted every picture and every mental memory of that date because I didn’t want to remember. But what I do remember is, November 29th. The day of deafening silence and heartache. The day that sweet baby was removed from inside my protective womb. I was a day shy of 11 weeks. we were just about to tell people, I had the whole Facebook worthy post planned in my head, right at Christmastime, all the stockings hanging in front of the fireplace with one additional teeny tiny baby stocking announcing our precious new bundle of joy. But it was gone. all gone. The June baby, the one we worked so hard to conceive after our chemical pregnancy. The one that I was ALMOST out of the worry zone of the first trimester.
I’m not sure why, but a miscarriage is such a lonely feeling. Maybe it was my experience and how the whole thing went down, maybe it was because no one really knew that I was pregnant in the first place, maybe its because I just wanted to be alone, but either way, it’s lonely, scary and just a sadness that can’t even be put into words.
It all happened in a blur of events one morning. I was driving in for my Rhogam shot (since I am O+ blood type) and the doctor said, “I know you are coming next week, but since you are here, lets just peek at baby!” And there it was….the look. The look of, “oh shit, there is no heartbeat” I didn’t even need her to tell me before I already knew. (obviously MD’s don’t have the whole Nurse Face thing down) What was supposed to be an uneventful happy morning turned into a whirlwind of blood work, phone calls, re-arranging schedules and tears. And the next thing I knew it was less than 24 hours later I was being wheeled into the OR for a D&C. It was gone. It was all over. I felt empty, confused and pain. I came home to two of the most amazing smiling faces of sweet babes who had no idea what I had just endured and their pure innocence and joy is what made me smile again. It is what always makes me smile first thing in the morning, and yet its also what makes me cry. Makes me wonder what I lost, what that beautiful face would look like, what could have been. I will never forget what could have been but, have been able to accept what our story is. The choice to be happy, to love, to smile and know that we can try again is the path we are on. Despite the feelings of loneliness during the miscarriage I have found comfort in knowing that I am not alone, that other women and men struggle with the same experiences and feelings of loss.
To all the other moms AND dads who are navigating their way through this journey of loss know that you are Strong, you are Brave and you are not alone. That after the storm there is a rainbow.
Whether I like it or not, June 20th will come and go. It will bring feelings of sadness, loss, and confusion but it will also bring memories of love. The love i felt for something so small, so fragile and vulnerable yet so loved. I will always think of you my sweet June baby.