After losing a baby and having miscarried, pregnancy is just not the same.
Strangers making small talk asking if you want it to be a boy or a girl, but all you want is for it to live.
Coworkers asking you “how’s baby” all excited. I say “fine” but what I want to say is “I don’t know, I still don’t feel him kick and my next ultrasound is still two weeks away so I’m just hoping he’s alive.
Neighbours asking if the nursery is ready but you’re too scared that this baby will die too to prepare for anything
Friends kindly asking if you have a baby registry, but you don’t because your late son’s crib is still set up in the nursery and many of his belongings are lovingly packed in storage.
As blessed as I feel for this new baby, I now know too much. I know miscarriage is 1 in 4; I know stillbirth is 1 in 160; I know babies die.
This knowledge has made me a very odd pregnant women to the outside world. They might be thinking I’m focusing on the negative or being dramatic. The reality is that I’m counting the minutes between kicks, holding my breath at ultrasounds, holding back tears at every hospital appointment as they ask me over and over to explain my history of pregnancies and losses, thinking about where we’ll bury him if something does go wrong.
Pregnancy after loss has a different kind of beauty than ordinary pregnancies. I’ve said “I love you” to this baby more times than I can count, I’ve told him all about his siblings before him, I keep telling him how happy I am he chose me to be his mom.
The truth is, I am celebrating this pregnancy. Not with baby showers or gender reveals but with love: as much love as I can possibly let this baby feel while his heart still beats. That’s my mission until he makes it home safely and I don’t want any distractions from that.
If you’re pregnant or trying to be pregnant after loss, please remember to do what’s right for you and your family. It’s going to be a nail-biting 9 months so prioritize anything that gives you peace of mind.
With love,
From Michael’s mommy