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The Ugly Emotions We Don’t Talk About

I haven’t written lately because I have been struggling. I am still struggling with our loss. I am still struggling knowing that “Hudson” is quickly becoming a popular name and I now have to hear it and can’t say, “Oh, that’s my eight month old’s name!”

Even more, I’ve been struggling with the most recent group of pregnancy announcements and babies.  And this is where the ugly emotions come in. After my miscarriage, I did the normal grieving process. I expected that once I came to the point of acceptance that baby showers, meeting new babies, and excitement would just follow. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case. All I feel is resentment. It’s fleeting, but I feel it with every single announcement I see.  I realize how this makes me sound. I hate myself for even having the feelings, but they are there.

And what’s even worse, is that the latest round of pregnancy announcements have been from people who have experienced secondary fertility. They didn’t just end up pregnant the first month they tried for a second baby. It has been years for most of them. Some have gone through miscarriages themselves. So after the resentment subsides, all I feel is guilt and shame. Guilt because both of our children were conceived without trying. Guilt because even though we lost our second baby, we have a child here that is wonderfully spectacular and perfectly healthy. And some people haven’t even had the chance to bring one baby into the world.

There is certainly some resentment as well because I’ll never get the chance to have our rainbow baby. I’ll never get that healing of being able to bring another child into this world biologically. And that’s something I’ll eventually have to deal with.

I’m sharing this in hopes that if anyone is struggling with these same feelings, you will understand you’re not alone.  It’s not the healthiest emotion, but it is a valid one and it needs to be identified. And if I’m the only person who holds these feelings of resentment, perhaps acknowledging and naming it will allow me to heal even further.

Category : Jessica , Volunteer Bloggers

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A second child

I get asked regularly about more children – when are you going to have more kids? Are you going to have more kids? Won’t they be too far apart in age if you wait much longer? 

Questions like these are hard to hear. Yes we do want to have more children, at least one more, but it’s not that simple. 

When people that don’t know our journey to have our daughter I usually just say that we had a hard time conceiving her, so it’s not as easy as just wanting another baby. And I leave it at that. For people that know our story and still ask I just tell them that we have to go back to see a specialist and talk to her about the meds that I had to take last pregnancy, and the possibility of the meds working again. 

You see even though the meds helped me carry my daughter to term, they were not a cure for my losses. They were a “This might work, it helps 80% of the time it’s used for unexplained reoccurring miscarriages.” Yes that is a great percentage but I also fall into a group of couples that have multiple losses that is less then 5%, so just because the odds are in our favor doesn’t mean it will work twice. 

There is a lot to consider this time around. Can we handle another miscarriage? If we have one do we try again? How many times do you try to have another baby that we can hold and watch them grow, after you have one already? 

When we are ready we will take the steps to see what the specialist says and we will go from there. 

Category : Amanda , Volunteer Bloggers

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A Connection

My husband and I were shopping for baby furniture the other day. We have been so focused on the other parts of our new house that we had put off setting up the nursery. We finally nailed down a day to go out to start looking. We met at a store nearby and spent over an hour perusing the cribs, matching dressers, gliders, and rockers.

We spoke with a sales associate to purchase our chosen crib and dresser. We began talking with him about what we do and where we are from. He walked us over to the counter to tally up our price. As he was adding everything up, he told us a bit more about himself. He said how before working at the store he had sold car seats, now he sells furniture. He knows about all the guidelines and regulations of baby things and top brands. He told us of all the nieces and nephews he had. One would assume he had children of his own.

“My wife and I wanted kids,” he said as he wrote up our receipt. “We had about 4 or 5 losses. We tried adoption, but that didn’t work out either. So here we are. We’re happy with how things are meant to be.”

We both responded with, “Wow, we’re so sorry.” I stood there for another moment in silence, unsure of how to respond to this man’s brave honesty. I decided to respond with my own honesty.

“I had two miscarriages before this pregnancy,” I said. I felt my face get red as I placed my hand over my wiggling baby bump.

He nodded his head, “So you know how it feels. It’s hard.”

“It is. It’s really tough,” I said. “I guess we just have to keep believing someone up there knows why this stuff happens because we sure don’t. Just gotta believe there’s a reason behind it all.”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s all we can do.” He said to my husband his name made him think of it. One of the losses was supposed to be named Zachary. 

Since having my miscarriages, we haven’t had an off the cuff conversation like that with a stranger. We didn’t say that much to each other. We didn’t go into detail. The understood feeling of the heartbreak of loss connected the three of us in that moment. What started as a simple trip to get some furniture for our little one, turned into a moment of deeper human connection. You really never know what others have gone through. We all have a story to tell and it makes a difference when there are people there to listen.

Category : Kate , Volunteer Bloggers

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Introducing Thomas John

In the pregnancy loss community, the term rainbow baby is commonly used to refer to a baby who is born after the loss of another, as that child is something beautiful the same way a rainbow is after a dark storm.

I must confess that for a long time, I hated this phrase. Why? I’m not really sure, but I can only assume that it’s because while I was in the middle of that storm (or hurricane, as it more commonly felt) I couldn’t imagine ever seeing that rainbow.

Now it’s here.

It is with a full heart that I introduce my son Thomas John, who was born on July 18 at 11:33am, weighing 8lb, 2 oz and measuring 20.5 inches long.

TJ (aka Goose) is actually my 2nd rainbow baby but for me, there’s something about that final burst of light that just feels special. This is the end. There will be no more pregnancies, no more losses, no more waiting. I no longer have to wonder just how many times I’ll be pregnant because now I know the answer: five. (That number still doesn’t seem real to me)

When my son Ryan was born two years ago, he wasn’t a rainbow – he was the sun and the stars and the entire freaking universe. But as overjoyed as I was, I also knew our family wasn’t complete. I knew there would potentially be more struggles and more dark days and I honestly didn’t know if I could handle that.

But I discovered I could.

Now, with my two little boys, I feel blessed and hopeful for our future together. I can finally see the rainbow.

Category : Karen , Staff/Board Members

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The Empty Nursery

August has really been the month to move! Just like Kate mentioned moving to a new home, so did we, which is why I have been absent from the blog over the past month. We had been planning this move since last year. Last year, our apartment lease was coming up for renewal around the same time we got our blazing positive. It was too last minute to start hunting for a larger place at the time.

“We can live here a few months with a newborn” we told each other, staring a little hesitantly around our small apartment.

“We will then move to a larger home when the baby is six months old and our lease is up.”

Even though I hadn’t had a nursery at that time, I had started preparing what the future nursery would look like when we moved in a year and I had the space. I had my Pinterest board and added so many little decorative items to my Amazon baby registry. I had the entire room planned out.

A year later, and here we are. We moved into our larger home, but instead of bringing along a six month old baby, we brought along her memorial, urn, and memory box to set up in our room. This was the first time since I packed up all my baby items in December that I had to get out those boxes. I had to carry our baby girl’s bouncy seat and her tiny box of clothes she never got to wear. I had to find a place to store them.

Time is a funny thing. When I packed away those items, I thought I’d never want to see them again. I had even considered donating all the items and buying all new things for the next baby. But, somehow, I just couldn’t bare getting rid of Lily’s things. It felt like throwing away her memories as well, so I hung on to every single outfit, changing pad, and carrying sling we had collected, never knowing if I’d ever be able to use those things. It hurt so bad packing them away, but when I moved them, I noticed that my body had built up strength so that the familiar sting did not cause me to cry anymore. I was hardened to that gnawing inside the pit of my stomach. Instead of the body shaking tears I used to have, I just let out a sigh.

Our new place has three bedrooms. One for my husband and I, one for our office, and one for the guest room. We don’t really have that many guests, but neither one of us wants to admit the real reason for the third room: the future nursery, one day.

Time. Kate talked about how a year changed her life around completely. For me, it was not a positive change. Last year, I was pregnant and thinking ahead and planning for a new life. This year we are moving into a new home with an empty nursery. It’s these little reminders, that just when you think you are growing stronger, that you are pulled back two steps to remember just how much you lost and just how much you have changed.

Time will not heal those wounds, but will make you stronger when facing them. That is one truth that I am realizing more and more each day. If time can get me to this point, time can get me to the point of one day filling that empty nursery.

Category : Sarah , Volunteer Bloggers

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This Time

Around this time in July of 2017, I was a couple weeks away from finding out I was pregnant again. Seven months from my first miscarriage, I was finally starting to feel like myself, happy and hopeful. Life felt like it was taking a turn for the better. Physically I was feeling much better. Then, the second miscarriage hit.

Fast forward to now, July 2018. I’m 25 weeks pregnant. I’ve had no complications thus far. The baby is growing as he or she should. I moved into a new house with my husband and we are starting to set up a nursery. You really never know what can happen in a year. Just a year ago I was feeling completely hopeless. I was depressed. I had no faith in what my body could do because it had failed me twice in such a short amount of time. I felt so isolated, so alone. 

Now here I am, experiencing the miracle of life growing inside of me. I honestly am amazed at myself and at the female body in general. The way our bodies know what to do is truly a miracle. My body has got this and I need to do what I can to make sure everything keeps running as it should. 

I’m amazed that I have been able to pick myself up and keep faith. I still fall. But knowing I have the ability to get back up keeps me from staying down. I was texting a friend about this and I said I don’t know how us women do it when we are faced with these personal, internal struggles. She said, “We do it because we have to. There’s no choice in that. It’s just the matter of time it takes till you can get back up.” She’s right. It’s in our nature to rise after we fall. We just have to. 

I have had support along the way, I could never forget that, but this has primarily been a solo journey. Yes, getting pregnant involves a counterpart and I do recognize these things have not only happened to me, but also to my husband. But once the life is initiated, it’s mostly the woman’s journey. We carry the child inside of us. It is our responsibility to ensure this life is cared for from the moment of conception and beyond. I think the term “mother to be” is silly. Pregnant women are already mothers. We are caring for our babies from the very start, whether the pregnancy lasts a few weeks or goes full term. We are mothers.

Every time I feel this baby kick, I smile. I smile for the life I am growing. I smile for the two that could have been that have become a motivation to be the best I can for this one. I still cry for them. But now I smile more because I know they are angels watching over us.

I don’t know if I believe it every day. I still struggle to keep that faith and I think I always will. Some days I cry a lot. But then I feel the kicks. They’re kicks back to reality. It’s like he or she is telling me, “Hey, mom. We’re going to be okay this time.”

Category : Kate , Volunteer Bloggers

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It Happened To Me, Too

As the month of June closes, I’m left feeling gratitude towards the men in my life. I follow several pregnancy loss pages on my social medias, and have had the opportunity to read articles and essays by men and their view on pregnancy loss. It has been an eye opening experience.

I’m so grateful to my husband, and his unwavering support through our journey. He’s cried with me, taken care of me, and celebrated our victories. I also know he’s felt deeply by our losses, and often had to put his feelings aside as he supported me with my struggles during our losses.

I hope as a society, as we open up and shatter the taboo of pregnancy and infant loss, we can reach out to the men struggling through these losses with us. For them, it’s often a more quiet despair, as they don’t have a lot of the physical trauma women endure. They’re often overlooked as loved ones express concern for the mother, or assume a man won’t be as emotionally touched by this sort of thing.

I think a popular tv drama got it right in one of their episodes. As a couple argues after receiving news about an impending miscarriage, the woman exclaims that “it happened to me, it didn’t happen to you.” Her partner responds by revealing some of his feelings and reiterating that he will be her support system while she goes through this, but says that while it didn’t happen to his body, “it happened to me, too.”

Women tend to be the public face of child loss. A Phil Collins song has a line that says “no words describe a mother’s tears,” and we as a culture are beginning to understand that. Let’s not forget the men who are also affected, because it happened to them, too.

Category : Stacey , Volunteer Bloggers


If you've come to this blog, it likely means you have suffered a pregnancy loss of some type. We are so sorry you have found yourself here, but hope the stories of life after loss can help you on your road to healing and recovery. Remember, we are all in this together!

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