Goodness.
To start, I’m going to steal some words from a food blogger I intensely admire who has been sharing about her pregnancy and infant loss for the past 5 months. Thank you for your story and your words, Lindsay from Pinch of Yum. (The following statements were used in Lindsay’s posts about her pregnancy and her son, Afton, and I always found them to be so loving and respectful of all her readers, regardless of their current situation. I hope I can do the same for my readers.)
To you mamas who have been there – I’m so glad we can share our experiences. and thank you for creating a space that is non-judgemental and welcoming of all.
To you mamas who are pregnant – I’m glad you’re here. Please love those precious babies the very best you can.
To you mamas who are still trying to get pregnant or recovering from loss – we see you, we love you, we’re cheering for you and your babies.
To you mamas whose journey includes loss of a pregnancy, a child, or a dream – I now stand bravely among you. I see you, I love you, and I’m hopeful for us and our babies.
To you readers who are in a completely different life space altogether but still show up to be friends on the internet – umm, you’re the best… You are amazingly cool. We’re lucky to have you here.
There are so many things I could write about pregnancy after miscarriage.
I could write about the decision to try or wait after our miscarriage cycle, running through practical (“If we wait, we can go on our Alaskan cruise in May!”) and emotional (“Are we ready to put ourselves out there again?”) reasons to wait or go for it.
I could write about the first agonizing weeks after a positive test, just waiting for the shoe to drop.
I could write about the numbness I tried to hide in, not getting attached to this pregnancy, before my emotions took over and I allowed myself to feel the full extent of fear and hope.
I could write about the interminable wait at the first doctor’s appointment and the rush of joy from actually seeing a beating heart.
I could write about my hesitation in sharing good news because I now know what it feels like to have pangs of grief and jealousy when someone makes a pregnancy announcement.
I could write about how weepy I got last week, re-realizing my complete lack of control even if we do not have another miscarriage, when an acquaintance posted a picture of their newborn, likely diagnosed with Down syndrome and other health complications after a seemingly normal pregnancy.
I could write about how now, even a week after my doctor said chances of anything happening to this baby were less than 5% after seeing its little heart flutter at 10 weeks, that I still feel myself on guard.
Basically I have a lot of feelings, not surprisingly. Hesitation, grief, jealousy, anxiety, impatience, joy, hope, excitement, fear, doubt, empathy, sadness…
Thankfully the negative feelings are decreasing with each week as my little rainbow baby hope rises. I’m marveling at the way my body is already changing and how different pregnancy symptoms can be from one to the next. I’m starting to imagine my little fall season with Little Bamboo (it’s a long story, but might make sense if you’ve watch an obscure Japanese animated movie called Princess Kaguya).
And I’m making Mean Girls jokes because, yes, our due date is October 3rd.
Lindsay in Progress 