It has been nearly four years since I had my miscarriages. It was such a difficult point in my life and I can remember the feelings of enormous pain, loss, and guilt that it brought me. I recently found this photo and it explains exactly how I felt.
I tried to stay optimistic about having another child and a sibling for my son. I put all my energy into parenting, taking care of myself, and hanging on for the roller coaster ride of grief.
Some people tried to comfort me by saying, “at least it happened in the first trimester” or “it would have been much harder if you were further along.”
I understood where they were coming from, but what they didn’t realize, was the magnitude of loss was still enormous for me. This was a pregnancy. I did have a little life growing inside of me, even for a short, 5, 6 1/2, and 8 weeks.
I grieved for each loss.
I remember looking around and trying to have some connection to my losses. The only tangible items I had were a baby book and a positive pregnancy stick.
When I would take my son out, I noticed many white butterflies always fluttering by. I began to tell him, “Those are mommy’s butterflies. They are always following me.”
I feel like those butterflies represented my losses. They always put a smile on my face when I saw them and they began to give me hope.
After the third consecutive miscarriage, I became pregnant with my son, Blake. He was my rainbow baby.
He has brought so much love to our family. I feel that our family unit is complete now. I have my two adoring sons, loving husband, and protective french bulldog.
What more could I ask for?
Nothing. I am good. I don’t need a baby girl. I don’t need to try for number three. Actually, I already had numbers three and four and five.
There is a very special bond that Blake and I have. He is known as a “mama’s boy”. In fact, I joke that he is still attached to the invisible umbilical cord.
He is constantly following me around, holding my hand, sitting on my lap, hugging and kissing on me, while saying “Oh, mommy!” He is just special.
Maybe he knows that he is a rainbow baby. He has a special bond with each of us and has filled the void.
As I reflect on where we were four years ago and where we are today, it is just amazing. I feel so lucky to be part of this family.
I still see my butterflies, but now I have two little boys pointing them out.
I knew from being a child life specialist, that support and healthy coping strategies would help my husband and I get through this. If you find yourself in a similar situation, reach out for help, it can make a huge difference.
The Solitary Feeling of a Miscarriage
Coping with Loss on Mother’s Day
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