I’ve had this post saved in my drafts for a few days now, I think it’s about time to share.
Some may think this, and several of my other posts for that matter, are “too much for the internet.” Sure, I think a lot of people over-share via social media, and I will openly admit, I am one of them. Who cares what I had for lunch? No one. Do I snap a photo and post it to my Instagram (bethanyruthalcock) feed anyway? Of course I do! That being said, I think there are certain topics of conversation people avoid because it’s too personal and usually kept private. One example being my post on my struggle with an eating disorder. However, I think there is healing and empowerment in talking about some of these “personal and private” matters. Everyone was given a story, and stories are meant to be shared.
A month ago, I had a miscarriage.
It’s weird. It’s sad. It makes me feel guilty.
Last month, I had the suspicion that I was pregnant. I had many of the same early indicators that I did with Judah. I was super tired, my hormones were going crazy, and I wanted to eat everything we had in the house, all day long. And, I was late for my monthly visitor. When she finally came, it was different, and I knew it. I trust my instincts a lot when it comes to my body, I really believe God designed our bodies to tell us what we need and don’t need. He’s pretty smart like that. I knew something was off.
I called Kyle and told him I thought I was experiencing a miscarriage, and he immediately came home from work. I told him not to, that I’d be fine, but he knows me, and I’m so glad he didn’t listen to my stubbornness. Just having him around was such a comfort.
I called my doctor and spoke with a nurse who ordered up some lab work and later that week, my results confirmed that I did in fact experience a miscarriage.
I had what is known as a “chemical miscarriage,” meaning I wasn’t far along, and in fact, many women have these and don’t even know. But, I knew, and it hurt.
No, I didn’t get to the point of celebrating that positive pregnancy test, of going to the doctor and hearing the heartbeat, or seeing that little, growing body, and then later being told it was gone. For those of you that have, I simply cannot imagine that pain. For risk of causing upheaval, to me, a woman becomes a mother from the moment of conception, whether she knows it or not. When you have a miscarriage, you lose a child, no matter how early they are in their development.
On July 12, I lost a child.
I still feel the weight of that loss, and I feel so guilty. I know that it’s silly to feel guilty about something that I cannot control. But I still feel it. I didn’t even concretely know I was pregnant, and I feel guilty that that little life didn’t receive the proper love and grief it was due. I feel guilty when I look over at my little boy playing so well by himself. I feel guilty that my body failed in some way and that I lost his little brother or sister–his playmate.
I feel guilty. I feel sad. I feel loss. And that’s okay.
Just because I didn’t know for sure that I was pregnant before it happened doesn’t make it any less of a daily struggle. In fact, earlier this week, I broke down crying while getting dressed for the day. I’m crying right now, as I compose this post. A loss is a loss, no matter what stage.
Going through this has made me realize how precious these little lives our bodies carry are. I am so grateful for my son. I am so grateful that he defied the odds he was given after his first ultrasound. I’m so grateful for his smile, his endless energy, his laughs, and the joy he brings to Kyle and I.
This one is at the top of that list of many questions I have to ask the Big Man when that glorious day comes that I get to meet him. Why does it happen? Why does it always seem like the women and men who would make the best parents have to struggle when it comes to so easily to others? Why do you create something only to take it away so quickly? I guess I just have to chalk this one up to His infinite wisdom and my minuscule, earthly brain that couldn’t possibly understand the complexities of His creation.
All I know is it’s hard. It makes me stop and think. But I’m working through it, and sharing this with you was a big step in that process. So thanks for listening and helping me heal.
Now I’m off to play with this gem and give him a couple extra squeezes.