Now that I've shared a little about me, I want to open up a little more. A little deeper. Share about something I faced this summer that came completely unexpected, something I didn't understand, and something I can now talk about. This summer, I had a miscarriage.
I was about 5 weeks along when I found out I was pregnant. It was quite a shock, especially being that it was only a few days after our oldest daughter graduated from high school. We were starting over. We were going to have a little one, again, and we were very excited. We were so excited, we immediately began telling everyone and anyone. Big mistake, in hindsight. There's a reason why they tell you to wait 12 weeks before telling anyone. I learned that the hard way.
For 2 weeks, everything was great. Or so I thought. Then, it was time for the doctor's appointments and ultrasounds. We were so excited for the first ultrasound, but instead of seeing my baby's heartbeat on the monitor, we saw an empty, black sac, and started hearing words coming from my doctor's mouth.
Blighted Ovum: When a fertilized egg attaches to the uterine wall, but the embryo doesn't develop.
I had never heard of it in my life. Didn't know it existed. Couldn't even comprehend that it was happening to me, being that I'd had 3 successful pregnancies, and I come from a very fertile family. Blighted ovum was my final diagnosis, and it took 2 horribly painstaking weeks of tests and ultrasounds to make the diagnosis, and for a D&C to be scheduled. I should have been about 8 weeks along, and instead I was going to have a surgery to have my "products of conception" removed from me.
It's very hard to put into words the emotions that surround a miscarriage. It's a loss. You need to grieve, rest, and try to make sense of a medical malfunction that happened inside your body. You have to accept that people are going to offer their condolences, they are going to look at you with that look of pity in their eyes, and they are going to walk on eggshells around you, because they're not sure how you're handling it.
I'm one of those people that put on the "brave face". I smiled, I thanked everyone for their thoughts and prayers, and I told everyone that I'd be OK.
What really happened, though, was a change inside of me. Something I didn't really expect. Something good actually came from this horrible tragedy. I fell in love with my husband even more (if that's possible), and it connected our bond even stronger than I ever thought possible. For the first time in our marriage, I needed my husband more than ever, and he was there. There in a way I could never imagine. There with his words, his actions, his support, and his encouragement.
Walls were broken down in me that I never thought ANYONE would break. That "I've got this", "I can handle anything, and get over it", mentality. I have always been strong. I've always been able to handle any and all obstacles that came my way. I've always been the support that he needed, and the stress that I carried on my shoulders was never too much to carry. Until the moment I heard that I wasn't going to have the baby I had already fallen in love with, the baby I had already started making a blanket for, the baby I had already envisioned in my mind.
I tried with all of my might to put on that persona. Then, I would find myself crying for no reason. I would just break into tears at the drop of a hat. I would convince myself it was just my messed up hormones, completely normal, and something that wouldn't last long.
My husband knew it was just that. A persona. A fake image I was trying to carry, trying to pretend wasn't effecting me, and he jumped into action.
For the next few weeks, up until this moment, Casey has been my rock. I've been able to open up to him, and he has listened. He has taken care of me more than anyone has ever taken care of me. I've never really been taken care of, before. Not like that. He held me when I needed to be held, he spoke to me with such love and understanding, and I am certain I wouldn't have made it through this without him.
What I have learned from all of this is that a miscarriage is NOT something someone can go through alone. It doesn't matter how strong you are, how many trials and tribulations you've been through, nothing prepares you for the loss of a child. And that's exactly what a miscarriage is, regardless if there's a baby there or not. You feel like you have lost a child, and it takes a lot out of you emotionally, physically, and mentally.
Casey and I are trying again. We want to hold our rainbow baby in our arms, and thank God for the blessing of being parents again. This loss has renewed our love, brought us closer together, and shown me that there isn't a stronger person in a marriage. There have been many times he's needed me, and this was the time I really needed him. He was there.
I pushed aside the fact that he had to deal with this loss, also. I had to understand that he also felt pain, felt loss, and regardless, he did everything in his power to ensure that I felt comforted, loved, and supported.
It has been 4 weeks since my surgery. I don't think the emotional change will ever go away. I don't think I'll ever be "over" the miscarriage. I can look towards the future and have hope that we will have our baby. What I can take from all of this is that I know without a shadow of a doubt that there isn't another man on this planet that I could love, or would love me, than Casey. He is my rock, my other half, my complete partner.
I can't be me without him.
Our angel baby, despite not getting the chance at life, has given us life. Our angel baby was sent to show Casey and I how much we truly love each other, to bring us together even more, and to open us up in a raw and powerful way. I truly believe our angel was sent to open all of this up for us, so that if we are blessed with a rainbow baby, he or she will feel that love that has come from this unexpected tragedy.
