This post is dedicated to each mama out there who has had to say goodbye to her baby and bravely move on with life. Your baby is never forgotten. The life you carried mattered. You aren’t alone. I see you.
Little Did You Know that when you ask how I’m doing I’m secretly wanting to tell you that I can’t think of anything except how empty my arms feel. But I don’t because I don’t want you grow tired of me.
Little Did You Know that when someone is celebrating a birthday, my first thought is that I’m not currently planning one for my own baby. Even my own birthday is clouded with that thought.
Little Did You Know that when we get together for a casual coffee all I want to do is tell you how much I’m still grieving my baby even though its been months.
Little Did You Know that I remember every single milestone from my pregnancy. I remember the day I got my positive test. I remember the due date. I remember the day I was supposed to or did find out their gender. I remember the first time I heard their little heartbeat. Every year that these milestone anniversaries come around I become despondent, depressed, distracted.
Little Did You Know that one of the worst parts is putting away all the maternity clothes, deleting all the pregnancy apps, unsubscribing from all the milestone emails, and wondering what to do with the ultrasound picture because shoving it in a drawer is unbearable but hanging it on the wall is too painful of a constant reminder.
Little Did You Know that every month I religiously take a pregnancy test hoping its positive and when it isn’t a part of my soul dies.
Little Did You Know that when you announce your pregnancy, baby’s gender or healthy birth, I’m so very thrilled for you but at the same time I can literally feel the emptiness in my own womb and then cry.
Little Did You Know that when I wake up in the middle of the night, all I can think about is how I wish I was waking because my baby needs to be fed.
Little Did You Know that when I go out in public, I notice every baby and baby carrier and can’t help but wish I was frazzled and exhausted because I was carrying my own little one.
Little Did You Know that it gets easier to hold the tears back but deep down my heart never stops aching or crying for my baby.
Little Did You Know that every time I see the color soft pink or pastel blue my heart shatters into pieces at the thought of the little bundle I wanted to wrap in that color.
Little Did You Know that the worst feeling is knowing most people discredit my pain because it either wasn’t a stillborn or I never held them or saw their face and I constantly feel pressure to downplay my feelings to combat the judgement for missing my sweet love.
Little Did You Know that when people ask if we’re trying again or when we’re going to have a baby, I go numb from head to toe not knowing how to articulate the storm of feelings that come up from remembering my lost babies, our intense journey, and the nights I’ve laid awake crying and asking myself the same question.
Little Did You Know that when I’m sitting at home and it’s quiet, I’m thinking about where the little one’s toys would be and how I’d probably be getting them all bathed and tucked into bed about that time.
Little Did You Know that no matter how much I cry and how much I want to move on, this is something I will never not feel or not remember.
Little Did You Know that the worst pain starts to hit me months after I had to say goodbye even though I was far from ready and my entire world changed in a moment. I want someone to ask me how I’m feeling and making it through since my loss 3,6, 12 months from when it happened. Feeling like such a horrible thing no longer matters to anyone but me is one of the loneliest feelings on earth.
Little Did You Know that my miscarriage was not a hiccup in the road of life. It was my whole life until it was suddenly taken away with the words “there’s no heartbeat”. It changed my future, my plans, my goals, my view on life in every way imaginable.
Little Did You Know that if I ever do get to relieve my aching arms with a healthy little one, I’m worried that others might view it as my consolation prize when in fact my other babies were just as much of a life as this one. Please don’t forget my other angels that were part of my journey.
Little Did You Know that the phrase “there are no words” and a heartfelt hug, mean more to me than any questions, medical advice, or suggestions. Because the truth is- there truly are no words. No words to describe the constant void I physically feel in my womb every day, no words to express the literal pain of a crushed and broken heart, no words to convey the weight in my soul on a daily basis. There truly are no words.
And now to my grieving mama’s out there whether you’re dealing with infertility or miscarriage or both…
Little Do You Know that my heart breaks for you and I pray for you every time I pray for myself.
Little Do You Know that you are so far from alone and you can always come cry with me.
Little Do You Know that your little one will never be forgotten and that grieving is not only good- it’s your right as a human being. Cry. Be sad. Your baby deserved you to miss them desperately.
Little Do You Know that I know the road you’re facing, the aimless journey moving forward, and the struggle to remember your baby without letting it keep you from continuing to live life and thrive.
Little Did I Know where this journey would take me or how it would fundamentally change everything about me.
Little Did We All Know
Much love and heartfelt gratitude to anyone who read this. This is my heart and my feelings that I’m sharing for many reasons- the utmost to help those dealing with everything I mentioned above. Keep the faith my friends.
NOTE: If you have never experienced a miscarriage or tread the road of infertility yourself or haven’t been around someone who has, this post is not by any means a form of judgement or disdain. On the contrary, this is meant to help you know what your friend might really be going through. I have been so blessed to know a lot of women who have never experienced miscarriage or infertility and their overwhelming love, support and kindness was often the best I received from anyone in my hard times. This is a reminder that we never know what someone is going through and struggling with and a simple “I haven’t forgotten your pain” does more for someone to heal then anything else ever could.