Sunday, April 21, 2013

5th Miscarriage

It's really hard sometimes to see life still going on around me. I think because I am hurting and sad and grieving that time should stop, just for a little while. I want to throw a pity party for myself and just stay in my bed. And then I feel selfish because I know there are things in this world that happen that are so much worse then what I am going through. And I also know that there are very happy things that are happening that I should be celebrating, but then it feels like I am betraying the loss that I just had.

This has been an extremely hard week for me. Very emotionally draining. This was the 5th time I got pregnant. Completely unexpected. And because it was completely unexpected, there was a little teeny-tiny piece of me that thought and hoped and prayed this was going to be the baby that was meant to be (and of course, I thought the other 4 babies were the babies that were meant to be). When the nurse told me I was pregnant, I just started sobbing. I told her she had to be wrong. This couldn't be possible because we weren't trying and I wasn't being monitored. But the test was positive and I was pregnant. I tried to stay cautious and I was never really happy, I mean how could I be? It was just instant fear because of all of the complications and losses we had already experienced. Every woman who wants to be a mom should be able to feel nothing but happiness and joy and excitement when they are told they are pregnant.

When will I get to feel that? When will it be my turn to have a happy, healthy pregnancy and baby? When will it be our turn to be parents? When will we get to see our baby on an ultrasound and hear a heartbeat and feel a kick and plan a shower and decorate a nursery? When will we get to bring our baby home and build our family?

Maybe never. When I lost this last pregnancy, I lost so much more then the physical aspect. I lost part of who I was and the last little bit of hope I had that we would ever be parents; that I would ever be a mom. I know people want to tell me that it will happen some day, somehow. But if that were true, wouldn't it have been one of the last five times I got pregnant? The truth is, that just because I want to be a mom more than anything, and just because I feel like I was meant to be a mom and that I was meant to raise children with my husband, that doesn't mean it will happen. There might be lots of ways to have a family, but those ways don't work for everyone. They're not a reality for everyone.

5 years of trying to conceive and 5 losses just seems like a sign, a very sad sign, but a sign.


  1. I'm sure you're more aware of all the options than I am, so I can't really offer any suggestions there...I just wanted to share that I know several people who have adopted, and I know their happiness is just as real as parents of children that share their biology. I don't know what adoption means to you...maybe it feels like giving up on a biological child that might be? Maybe it seems like an unattainable dream, like putting your name on an organ-donor list and waiting for a miracle to fall from the sky. I don't know, sweetie. I have 4 biological children that I only get to see, hug and kiss and hold for a few days each month and that is agonizing to me. I can't even imagine what you're going through. All I know is that it's not fair, and I'm crying as I type this. I'll be following your journey, and look forward to the day I see you holding a child you can call your own.

  2. Thank you for caring and for showing your support. I don't know what direction we are going from here. There is so much to consider and so much to do or not do. It is a very overwhelming and confusing process. I just wish it were easier.

  3. Hi smh06, I am here from NIAW and am very glad to have found your post. My heart is breaking for you. I am so sorry about the five babies you have sorry that I can't even put it into words. I hope and pray that you find healing some way, somehow. I hope and pray that it won't be long before you hold your very own child in your arms. But until then, my thoughts are with you. Thank you for speaking out about IF even in the midst of your own agony.