Some Things Feel Like Pure Torture

Today I need to write this. Today I need to get things off my chest. Today even if no one reads I need to type out what is on my mind.

It was just days after Mother’s Day that Aaron and I learned we were pregnant, something we thought could never happen, it had not happened in the last 9 years and we had been not preventing it. We had convinced ourselves it would not and could not ever happen. I was ok but Aaron he was over the moon. I was not even home when we found out, I was on a girl’s trip and that was ok.

We spent the last few weeks living precariously on the edge, one moment excited and wanting to tell the world and the next worried and concerned that things “were not right” according to the Dr. We were just waiting until the point where the baby’s heartbeat would be visible on a trans-vaginal ultrasound for sure and certain to decide if the pregnancy was viable.

While I tried to be excited and happy it was VERY hard, I did my best to let no one know how messed up I felt on the inside. A 39 year old woman has a pretty high miscarriage rate in general, I am told because of how “old” our eggs are, I am not sure why.

Yesterday we learned that the baby that should not only have a heartbeat but many other features had none, and had stopped growing pretty much the same time we saw our first ultrasound. Thanks to some medicine that I was on I was still having a lot of pregnancy symptoms and so I assumed all is well. I was wrong and may have completely lost it in the ultrasound room at the Dr’s office.

I think I cried for well more than an hour before I stopped, and that may have happened when I did a straight shot of vodka, I needed something to calm my nerves. We had decisions that had to be made and I could not make them if I could not research my options. I posted a private status update to those who knew that we were pregnant and had been praying for us. Those friends are the best, a few even cried with me.  Aaron stayed home from work – and he was not doing so well either. Mostly we were just walking through the afternoon and evening – we even took the kids out for dinner because neither of us could figure out how to turn on the stove in our grief.

After we got the kids in bed we talked, laughed, cried and got mad. This whole process has felt a bit like torture to both of us. This morning I had to call to schedule the D&C through more tears, and when I called to tell Aaron he cried as well. It is real, this pregnancy is over. I am told that this not only means we can get pregnant but it can happen again, however in all my research so can miscarriage at my age, in September I will be 40.

Tomorrow I am back to the OBGyn office to sign paperwork for the D&C – an office I have yet to sit in and NOT see a pregnant woman or two. Father’s Day we were going to tell our families but that will not happen now either. The end of June we celebrate nine (9) years of marriage and we had hoped to use it starting to decide what needed to be done to welcome a new baby to our family. We never got the chance to tell our kids or throw a party that something we thought might not EVER happen, did.

According to my little calendar where I keep track of those female things I was pregnant for 66 days total. I think most of them were spent waiting to see what was going to happen and not celebrating what this pregnancy meant and enjoying it. Now I am told I should not talk about being pregnant or even that I miscarried this miracle baby. I am not sure why?

The way Aaron and I see it we lost a baby – we may not have met this child yet, no one may have but to us it was a child and now it feels like the only people who know and care are those absolutely closest to us (and those people have been amazing) but Aaron is not someone who cries and he was crying at work today, and I have all kinds of appointments and meetings in the next few weeks and really would like people to know if I break out in tears it is not them, it is me and my grief that happened to appear at that moment or that if I just don’t feel like attending that one time I need a little lead way to do so.

I was looking for ways to help my husband cope as I have never seen him like this and found this article titled Why Can’t We Talk About Miscarriage – other than a parent’s death (thank God that I didn’t have that one) I feel like this woman.

Thank you to all those who have called, texted and messaged words of support and offers for watching the kids, who at this point are still clueless. Thank you to those who read this because writing this was helpful for me. I am not sure where Aaron and I will go from here, but we really could use your prayers.

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5 thoughts on “Some Things Feel Like Pure Torture

  1. Oh Carissa, I am so very sorry. I think it is good to talk about it. Talk about your miracle baby that lived under your heart for 66 days. Talk about your sadness and pain. When they are a little older, tell your children about their angel sibling. You don’t need to hide your grief. I have lost 6 babies to miscarriage and even now, years later, the grief pops up unexpectedly. I can go days or weeks without thinking about it. But when the grief hits, it is real. I am praying for you. Hugs your kiddos tight and don’t feel guilty about missing the one you will not hold until heaven.

  2. Carissa, I would repeat what Sivje said. I’ve lost three babies in-utero, the most recent only a few months ago. It’s a real loss, not just a medical condition Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. When they’re old enough to handle it, tell S&J. Don’t keep this a secret–there’s nothing about it that deserves to be hidden or shoved aside.
    Know that we are praying for you and Aaron through this season.

  3. Oh Carissa I am SO sorry! But PLEASE do not hide this baby from the world. Do not hold back your feelings or your story.

    I never understood the concept of not telling people you are pregnant in case you miscarry. For me, I would never NOT tell someone in my life that I was pregnant or that my baby had died. That little baby is your child, whether he or she is here or with God.

    When I miscarried my second baby, it was the worst day of my life. I was crushed but telling other people what I was going through and hearing their stories allowed me to understand that miscarriage is part of this parenthood rollercoaster. Knowing that I was not alone in my pain and that others understood and validated my heartbreak made all the difference to me.

    I don’t know why humans need empathy so much. I don’t know why it is so important to know that others have felt similar pain, but it is. It holds us up and keeps us going.

    Your baby is precious. My baby is precious too. We just didn’t get to have them with us for very long. It is a devastating loss. And you need to feel the pain, experience it, and know that soon it won’t hurt as much as it does today.

  4. My thoughts and prayers go out to you and Aaron. May your faith and love get you two through this difficult time. God Bless you two and your family. Love you both.

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