Wednesday, February 20

in the club

we're gettin' all personal - real, real dang personal - up in here again.
i'm feeling nudged to tell my story, no matter how messy, no matter that others have told similar stories. and, if it helps just one of you, then that is why i've put finger to keyboard. so, settle in, it's a long one, folks.
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a few years ago, i joined the club. i didn't ask to be a member; no one does. and, it seems this club's rules are kinda similar to fight club - you don't talk about the club. well...i need to talk about the club. and, i'm quite certain there are others out there who need to talk about it, too. because, you know what? keeping secrets tears holes in the soul. giant, life-changing holes.

i joined the miscarriage club.   twice.    and, this is my story.

yea, yea, yea, you thought we never wanted kids. well, when your friends and sister start having kids, and the years speed by to your mid-thirties, and society makes you feel worthless if you're childless, sometimes minds change. try to get pregnant. 

and, i got pregnant in october 2010.

and, couldn't schedule our first ultrasound fast enough. my timing was perfect - right before the holidays, so we could give the gift of being aunties, uncles, grammas, grampas, cousins. then i signed up for all the baby emails (mr man, this week our baby is the size of a pecan!), dreamt up 'how to tell everyone' ideas, and stressed over what to 'drink' at holiday parties.

brimming with excitement at the doctor's office, we glazed over all the statistics and test scheduling, our sole goal being to hear the heartbeat! finally, the machine wheeled in. let's have a look at your baby! awkward silence let me just move around a little more. awkward silence you know, i'm no good at viewing these things. awkward silence i'll be right back.

and, heart hit floor. pieces of it are surely still there. doom. denial. tears. and, mr man had to go back to work. alone, terrified, numb, i was sent off to the big ultrasound, for more awkward silences and...

i'm sorry, but the baby has no heartbeat.

no heartbeat. no heartbeat? wait, what?! nononononoooo. there's NO way. my sister just had a miscarriage. why would god do that to me? after i finally decided to try for a kiddo. when i'd already come up with a clever holiday announcement.

well, folks, there's nothing clever or exciting about calling your mama and sissies to say - thru the ugliest of tears - i'm pregnant...but the baby has no heartbeat. how do you give that much pain to people who never thought they'd hear the first two words from my lips?
how do you process feelings of epic grief, when you haven't even really processed the thought of being pregnant? when your body fails you by rejecting life enough to miscarry, but not enough to finish the process? when you have to make decisions in split seconds, then figure out how to live with them morally, emotionally, physically? when the holiday loses most of its sparkle in the blink of an eye? when your husband doesn't know what to say, much less anyone else you're likely to tell?

if you're me, you cry. a lot. buckets. and, throw stuff. like tantrums that would make a 3-year-old blush. i tend toward the dramatic side, if you weren't aware. 

then, i chugged down a healthy dose of denial (they're totally wrong), made the split second decision required of me (avoidance), and went to my family cocoon for the holidays. holidays that went by in a blur of family get-togethers, anger, more ugly tears, and waiting for the inevitable. all while trying to muster the courage to pretend i felt like celebrating a new year. what was the point?

of course, my body wasn't having any of the inevitable, so i had to face what i'd been avoiding from the beginning. unflattering white gown, legs in stirrups, breathe thru the pain. oh, the pain. and, the helplessness. and, a heart broken in two. it's almost over. we're so sorry. 

i get why no one wants to talk about, hear about, think about it - cuz it friggin' sucks. and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it. no one can tell you why or how it happened. there are no reasons they can give you. and, life? it keeps spinning madly on, paying no mind to those who are run over. those who would rather stay curled up in bed with a box of kleenexes, than go thru the motions. pretend. smile. 

and, there was a whole helluva lot of pretending and plastered smiles. at least until someone tried to tell me how bad their day/month/year/life was, then BAM - bomb dropped. oh yea? shut it! i can top you. so lovely of me, right? but, my way thru tends toward the angry side, and i was pissed. why the hell did everyone around me get to have babies? why.the.hell were there so many pregnant women EVERYWHERE i turned? couldn't anyone see the pain behind my fake smile? pity party of one, right this way!

oh, but i've been the person ignoring the pain behind the smile. with lines like oh, i'm so sorry. at least you can get pregnant. miscarriages are so common. 1 in 3 pregnancies ends in miscarriage. all while trying to run away to avoid having to feel any more of their pain. how could i expect sympathy when i was so callous?

oddly enough, my faith didn't feel too shaken after. in fact, i sought solace in church, christian friends, christian blogs, and favorite scriptures. sure i was a little perturbed that god wasn't going along with the plan i'd created for myself, but i felt comfort in these words.
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 
plans to give you hope and a future. ~jeremiah 29:11
it's taken 2 years for me to see that my story needed to be told. that there may be a lovely lady out there who is suffering in silence, and has no one to tell her this friggin' sucks. if you or anyone you know has gone thru this and is still reeling, i wanted to offer some suggestions for baby steps on that looooong road of healing.

name your baby - whatever your beliefs are, that was your baby. as soon as you saw the +, you started dreaming about your life with a little munchkin. something that's meaningful to you is perfect. my babies are hope and joy, and based on my belief, i find peace in knowing my family and i will meet them one day in heaven.

memorialize your baby - take the time to mourn the loss of your hopes and dreams. paint a picture, write a poem, plant a tree/bush, release a balloon. we chose to toss flowers into the sound (picture above). include family members if that's your thing.

allow yourself - to be pissed. to think this sucks. to cry. to wail. to throw stuff. just allow yourself. it's ok to be sad. sometimes, it hits when you least expect it. allow yourself time. as much time as you need. if you're like me, you won't be able to tell your story 1 and 2 years later without sheddin' a tear. IT'S OK. and, it's possible you'll never get over it. and, that's ok, too.

tell your story - don't be like me and keep a big soul hole of a secret. miscarriage doesn't have to be a dirty word. and, if there are people in our club, we want to welcome them. plus, your story matters.

For everything there is a season, 
and a time for every purpose under heaven.
~ecclesiastes 3:1

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i didn't tell this story for pity or as a bomb drop for those who know me, but not this part of me. i told this story for all the women who suffer in silence every day over this heart break. if you've got encouragement, ideas to add, or feel compelled to share your story too, rock on in the comments, or send me an email. let's be here for each other, sisters.


  1. Hi Rosita, I found your blog through your sister - who is one of my sorority sisters. This was definitely a moving piece.

    First of all, I am so sorry for your loss, and I applaud you for having the courage to talk about it. It is kind of an odd thing.

    I had a miscarriage when I was 22, just months after getting married. I never wanted kids until that day. It was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life.

    I never knew I was pregnant, so I always felt bad mourning the loss - especially when I didn't want kids. I felt like I didn't have a right to be upset, and even now -- seven years later -- I don't know if I've ever mourned it completely. I never named my baby, because it didn't feel right -- I don't even know the sex, although I'm fairly certain it was a girl.

    But yes, suddenly, everyone was pregnant. And still, everyone is pregnant. Everyone is ALWAYS pregnant. It almost irritates me more now, because I'm since divorced, and I realize a family is even that much further away. I hate it.

    And yeah, that comment "At least you can get pregnant," scares the Hell out of me. Because I don't know if I'll ever be able to have a healthy pregnancy and I almost wonder if it's irresponsible to even try.

    But, I also found great comfort in my faith at that time, and in realizing his plan is perfect, and I'm at the mercy of it. For the longest time, I was angry with him, thinking it was his way of telling me that I wasn't deserving of motherhood. But now, I've started to see that wasn't the case, and that given the situation with my husband and I, it was probably a blessing in disguise.

    It was a humbling experience for sure, and it awoke a desire for children which has been the rationalization behind so many decisions. And for that I'm grateful.

    But I don't ever talk about it, really. Mainly because no one ever knows what to say. It's awkward, it's a downer, it isn't something people want to talk about over steaks and chocolate mousse.

    So, I guess we'll keep it in the club -- this secret society of women who know the unique pain of loving and losing something you never knew. At the very least, it's good to know there's a place for us.

    Thanks again for this.

    1. thank you so much for taking the time to tell your story here. i'm so sorry you had to go thru it, and I know it's so hard to deal with, but maybe you're right it was a blessing in disguise. but that seriously doesn't make it feel any better.

      even now, I think I shouldn't be as sad as I am, because I wasn't as far along as others, haven't had fertility issues, didn't have a stillborn baby. but, I have to remind myself that these are my trials, and I shouldn't diminish them by comparing them. please don't feel guilty for being sad. you lost something that was a part of you, whether or not you'd taken a test to confirm it.

      what a messy, messy topic miscarriage is, but those of us who've experienced it need to make it less taboo. thank you again for sharing your story. it's taken a ridiculously long time, but i'm finally realizing that we weren't promised joy without sorrow, and as long as we can find some amount of joy somewhere in the sorrow, we have begun the path to healing.

      god bless you as you continue on your path to where he wants you. i'll be praying for you that he provide his light for you to see in the darkness.


  2. Being the baby of the family,at the age of 12, the first baby to come into my life was born. My brother and favorite sister inlaw had made me an aunt. I loved that baby from the moment I saw her. To be an aunt was so awesome. Now I am an aunt many times over but that first little girl stole my heart in a very special way. Loved you then so very much, love you still for the woman you've become and the bravery you've shown in sharing your story.
    Aunt Robin

    1. aunt robin, those are the sweetest words. you made me cry, cry, cry. thank you for these beautiful words. miss you


    2. all true! love you!

  3. Love you sweet daughter. Glad you were able to write about this. I too am sad when I think of my 3 grandchildren that are now in heaven but I don't know how to put it in words. All I've ever been able to say is "God's will be done" because I don't know why things like this happen or why there are so many unwanted babies being born every day. It doesn't make sense but I have to trust God and hopefully someday we will all be reunited.

    1. oh mama, thanks! the waiting for his will is so, so hard, and it's amazing when things spring up from the darkness when you think you can't wait any longer. I have such peace knowing we'll all get to see each other again in eternity. love you, mama

  4. i'm so glad you wrote this and it is beautiful in it's entirety. i pray that many many women read it and know there is a whole club of women out there mourning right alongside them. i'm torn at times with my miscarriage - as you know - because without it, we wouldn't have brother bear, but i am thankful that i've been through the experience simply so that we have one another. that was awkward to write and i'm not sure i made my point, but something tells me you'll get it. love you more than you'll ever know.

  5. HUGS, HUGS, HUGS... i love ya!! I'm apart of the club, most recent in NOV. and one more before Jay Man!!! I love that you wrote this and put it out there, wish i could hug your neck right now. God is good and will do great things you and your family!!!!!!

  6. I just happened upon this on Pinterest and really identified with it. I am 25 and I've had one child he's three. The love of my life. My husband and waited for two years to try for another baby, bam, pregnant right away. I told everyone. Why wouldn't I? My first pregnancy went so smoothly. Not the case this time. I miscarried at 8 weeks. I freaked out. I was pissed off. I was mad at everyone, god included. The doctor said it was a fluke. Happens to most women at some point. Ok I accepted it, waited nine months and tried again. Pregnant instantly. Miscarried almost instantly. I thought maybe its still just a fluke. This last miscarriage was so early maybe I wasn't really pregnant. Four months later I was pregnant again. So sick this time, like I was when I had my son. My doctor told me that was such a good sign. I was sure this one was different, I was hardly worried about miscarrying. I remember hitting the twelve week mark And my doctor told me my chances of miscarrying after that went down to only one percent. I was so happy. Finally started to tell everyone. At week thirteen the bleeding started. I knew instantly, it was over. I remember laying on the ground screaming and crying to god. It can't be happening again. It did , and bad. I started hemorrhaging, almost bled to death, had to be rushed to the hospital via ambulance, had a d&c and some blood transfusions. That was this past October. I'm still bitter. I was supposed to be due two weeks from now. I've gotten two baby shower invites in the past week and want to tell them to shove it. I shouldn't of course. Not their faults. I'm just bitter. Numerous tests and they can't find any reason for the miscarriages. I feel like I shouldn't try again. I don't know if I could go though it again. I have a hard time letting it out. I like to bottle it up. That's how I cope. Despite my family trying up comfort me and talk to me about it. I get angry and frustrated with them, husband included. Maybe next time, it's probably for the best, be glad you weren't further along, blah blah blah. Whew, it felt good to get that out. Thank you for sharing your story. It helps to know there's others out there.

    1. hi cassandra,

      thank you for sharing your heart-wrenching story. i'm so very sorry you've had to experience this. such brutal, raw emotional sadness. and, i know nothing i say will make it feel any better. i'm sorry you are nearing your due date, and also being bombarded with baby shower invites. take care of yourself, and if it's not in your best emotional interest to attend, they'll understand.

      i'm glad you were able to get this out - it's so horrible for us all to keep all our feelings surrounding this topic bottled up. please feel free to email me if you need to chat more. we've all got to be here for each other.

      i know you said they can't seem to figure out what's causing the miscarriages, but within 5 minutes of each other, 2 friends from totally different friend groups emailed me about a blood disorder that can be taken care of with something as easy as an aspirin. you might have your doctor look into that. i've also been told by many friends to have my progesterone levels checked. i've done neither of these things, but i'll put them out there for you in case you heal enough to decide to try again.

      do take the time to mourn your lost babies - and don't allow anyone to tell you to get over things. i've also found solace in talking to my priest and a spiritual director.

      god bless you - i pray you feel his wings wrapped around you, and his right hand in yours.

  7. Hey, saw you (along with several hundred of us :P) on YHL this afternoon. Thanks for sharing, and I am really sorry. Maybe my story (link below) will help you or someone reading your blog too.



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