Words behind the wall

During my childhood whenever I pictured my future I saw a great man, and a few little kiddos running around playing with the dogs. As I grew up, I saw my sister, then my brother, so many other family members and friends getting pregnant and starting their families. Some way earlier than they had ever planned and some who are still waiting for the chance.

I remember as I got older I noticed how my parents were about certain things, specific rules we had that other people I knew didn’t have to follow. There were also things my parents would do for me that I noticed my friends’ parents wouldn’t. We were never allowed out of the yard to play with friends in the neighborhood, if they wanted to hang out – they came over to our house, when we stayed at friends’ houses these same rules applied there. When the street lights came on, all the kids scattered to run home – it was our warning that the night was over and all games must pause and resume tomorrow after school. My mom would always know how to look out for my wellbeing long before I did, she noticed when I needed a break from friends, she also knew when I needed a break from home because things had been so emotional and they were taking a toll. My parents NEVER made me stay anywhere I wasn’t comfortable – there were many sleepovers that ended in me calling my parents between 12-4 am because I couldn’t sleep and I just wanted my safe place – my home with my parents. My mom would secretly ask me if it was okay when friends or family asked to spend the night, even though she could normally read my body language and know which answer to give. I remember thinking – this is what I want to be for my child.

My dad was a huge history buff, movie lover and bluntly honest, unapologetic man – we would stay up late, eating random foods, watching movies for hours. He was also an avid rock and mineral lover so one of our favorite activities was going Gem Mining at Dan Nicholas Park, taking our findings home and matching it up to our huge book we had on the topic, which turned me into a “rock collection” girlie. We would go to the lake and dive to the bottom to search for pretty rocks, sifting through the rocks on the bank to go home and race to identify them. When I would stay with my friends he loved getting updates about what we were doing, my best friend and I would record videos of us singing and we would send them to him, I secretly think he looked forward to these videos every time she and I were together. After him and my mom split, our time together looked a lot different. While we still did some of the same things, we were in a different place but it never felt any less than before, it was so nice to have the bond we continued to grow up until he left this world. We had many bonding moments throughout my 15 years with him, but these were some of my favorites.

My mom is such a fierce and kind spirited woman – I remember when I was little and there would be thunderstorms, I would get so scared with the loud thunder and with each crack I was running faster and faster into my mom’s arms. I still see the picture so vividly in my mind – her sitting on the bed, in a blue and white robe, arms wide open, giggling at my reaction, once I would be in her embrace I was fine, just smiling away. She has always been comfort, I think it stemmed from always having a safe place beside her in bed when the nightmares filled my dreams. We would stay up late giggling, making inside jokes, watching scary movies, going to the movies, cooking family meals or talking for hours on end. Since her and my dad split up, our bond seemed to grow closer as we helped each other cope through the huge life changing event that we were going through.

I say all the above to say – my parents showed me the importance of having an individual connection with each of your children, to fight tooth and nail for them daily, to encourage, redirect, guide them, and mold them into great humans. They taught me to cook, clean, nurture, love, show compassion, empathy, and how to provide. They showed me ways I wanted to show my kids, ways I could be better, values I want to instill in my children, and how to make them better than I have ever dreamed to be.

But what they never prepared me for was… miscarriage. I’m sure you’re wondering – how does one “prepare” someone else for miscarriage? Why would you want to even think about the possibility of it happening? How can someone warn you about things they’ve only heard of on TV, in magazines or through little whispers of those who struggle? My parents were lucky enough to never endure such a pain, they were fortunate enough to give birth to three beautiful babies. So how could they warn me?

When I thought of pregnancy – I would think about the cravings, the weight gain, hormones, sonogram photos, heartbeats, gender reveals, baby showers, and finally welcoming the new bundle of joy that you have so longed to see. What I didn’t know was a part of it all is that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, typically within the first 12 weeks of gestation. I didn’t see just how hard some women have to fight to see those two pink lines so many take for granted.

I am 1 in 4. In my 25 years, I have experienced 2 pregnancies both resulting in miscarriage within the first 5-7 weeks. I would later find out that I struggle with infertility, I need supplements to help my body complete the full menstrual cycle, I need progesterone supplements to help my body to support another life, and I must take so many other precautions that others would never bat an eye to. I suffered my first miscarriage right after my 18^th birthday. Then my second miscarriage happened a little over a month after my now husband and I got married. There is something so gut-wrenching about the look on the ultrasound tech’s face when they realize there is nothing there, the silence is deafening.

When I got pregnant with my first – I was over the moon. My dreams had finally come true, I was about to fulfill the part of me that I had longed for, for as long as I could remember. As soon as it was confirmed by my OB, as I’m walking out the doctor’s office door I made a post, announcing my sweet baby. Roughly two weeks later I start cramping at work, accompanied by some blood and clotting. I went to the hospital immediately, I waited for what felt like days to hear the most heartbreaking words “we couldn’t find a heartbeat, I’m sorry. You’re suffering from a miscarriage…” The doctor was still talking but I couldn’t hear a thing – between my screams, sobbing, and the ache that I felt throughout my entire being. I will never forget the overwhelming numb feeling that washed over me. I just remember thinking about all the changes I had made in just those two measly weeks – I had quit smoking cigarettes, cut back on caffeine, started to try and eat less processed foods, ate more fruits and vegetables, cut out junk food, stopped eating the laundry list of things that isn’t safe for a pregnant woman’s consumption. I spent the next few years wondering what I had done wrong, why I couldn’t have saved you. I’ll never forget what the doctor that I would see for my follow up visits would always try to remind me that it was never my fault, he told me that my body determined something wasn’t “right” so it couldn’t move forward. He explained it as – both parts have to be perfect matches, think of it like a zipper if one piece is bent, broken, or missing it will make the zipper unable to continue further, this was the same apparently. I was hurt, how could he compare my baby to an object of no value? It took many years for me to realize that he wasn’t trying to hurt me, in fact, he was doing just the opposite. He saw a girl, who was barely an adult, trying to understand something so unknown and he tried to bring me some comfort in the best way he knew how, making it relatable.

With my second, I had woken up for work one morning and there was a voice in my head on repeat “take a pregnancy test”. I didn’t have any at home, so I stopped by the gas station and rushed to work. I arrive at work, and run to take the test. Within seconds both lines appeared, and I was squealing. I video-called my husband, when he answered I just had the test in camera view. It took him about 5 seconds to realize what I was showing him – he starts crying, he’s smiling ear to ear, he was so excited that he was yelling and laughing. I started to spot shortly after, so I called my OB and headed in for pregnancy confirmation and lab work. The nurse made note of my spotting, the doctor confirmed my pregnancy, and I headed out the door with instructions to monitor the bleeding. I kept trying to convince myself that everything was okay. The following day rolls around, I start bleeding heavier so I head to the hospital, where it was confirmed for the second time. This time felt so much harsher, I had only known of my babies’ presence for less than 24 hours and they were already being taken away again.

The one blessing that came from losing my babies is this – I was never shy to talk about them, I never hesitate to tell strangers about them, I make posts about them often and share my story. In the times that I have posted about my miscarriages – I have women reach out to me to share their story, struggle, or words of encouragement from a fellow survivor. I learned my aunt, my cousins, friends, people from school, and so many other women have suffered just as I have. So if you’re reading this, and you have related to any part even in the slightest way – my heart is with you mama. I am sending you love, comfort, and baby dust. I see you, I feel you, and I am you. I love you.

S.H.