It may seem a bit out of place to write about miscarriage in the midst of all things on this blog, but we’re going to file this one under “Real Life.” And we’re doing so because my intention here is to write about all things that add up to The Truth About Living.
What is the truth about life?
That it can be hard. Yes, I’ll admit it. Life can be hard sometimes. And we don’t always know why. Loss, depression, grief.
I’m reminded of when I first started this blog and I wrote in my About Me section almost those exact words. I wish I could tell you the exact reasons why ‘bad’ things happen, why life is hard sometimes and give you the immediate cure-all.
But what I can do is share what I’ve learned. That I have a strong suspicion that the purpose of life is love. And I believe love and God are one and the same. And the rest of it…. well, I’m still working out the details. 😉
My faith is strong but I lose my way from time to time too, meaning… I doubt or struggle or fall short of ‘the glory of God’ which to me, now means, I lose sight of the light/love. I then pray for ‘right’ thinking again and set my intention to align.
On Miscarriage and Hope, Vision and Child-Like Faith
So, what does this have to do with miscarriage and what’s the story there?
Tonight a neighbor of mine posted a picture of her two year old daughter in a beautiful long and colorful tutu. Her face shining so brightly, this ever-present smile. An absolute picture of innocence and joy.
It’s a celebration photo… her birthday. I clicked ‘like’ on the photo and it set the wheels turning in my mind, back to memories. Back to what the little girl, whom, admittedly I don’t know super well, has meant to me these last two years.
You see, I had a miscarriage before that little girl was born. It was in January 2015 and it was my third. I’d had two in 2009 before my first son was born in 2011.
Wow, the years go fast.
This third miscarriage was hard for different reasons. I was getting older (late thirties), I was further along (13 weeks) and we had just found out the day before that we were having a girl.
It’s been so long since I’ve thought about this experience, that remembering it now is drawing out the tears. This is life.
After I lost the baby, had the outpatient surgery and went back in for a check up, I ran into my neighbor at the doctor’s office. She was there getting her pregnancy check up and expressed interest and concern for how I was doing after the loss. I did my best to manage a conversation without breaking down crying right then and there, but believe me, there were many, many tears.
The other reason this hit me so hard was because I had just lost my father the year before. This new life, this baby girl, had felt like a loving sign in some way. She was to be due the very month, near the day, my dad passed, and it felt like it was meant to be. That rather than being immersed in grief during the month of July every year, we would have new life to celebrate. Her loss was felt deeply on many levels.
I could write an entire book on these experiences but for now I’ll just say that tonight all of this has resurfaced in my mind for one main reason.
The two year old little girl celebrating her birthday in my neighborhood….
After my loss, I watched my neighbor grow each month in her pregnancy. I saw photos online, I saw her on neighborhood walks… and of course, there was an element of pain. It was a growing (literally) reminder of what I had lost.
But here’s what I chose. I could have easily let my mind, my emotions surrender to despair. To wanting to look away from other people’s pregnancies. To feeling renewed pain every time I saw her. To feeling envious or jealous or disheartened. It would have been easy.
But I didn’t. I chose to send them love. I chose to make every attempt to genuinely look upon them with love. I was so genuinely happy for them. Their second child! What a blessing. They had so much joy to look forward to. I can honestly say that deep down in my heart I kept nothing but good feelings for them. And some part of me, deep down said… maybe. Maybe we could try again.
When I lost the baby in that third miscarriage, it had felt like our last try. In fact, it was. I remember now. My husband and I had talked about it and made a decision that we would only try to conceive for x number of months and after that I said I would make my peace with it if we weren’t able. Lo and behold, we got pregnant and it everything felt ‘right’. So, losing her meant many things.
I would never be pregnant again. My son would be an only child. Our family was finished growing. I was a mother of one (extraordinary) child. And it meant that life made no sense to me. My faith was positively shaken.
How could this be? Everything had felt so right, the timing had seemed so perfect. What had happened? Had I done something wrong? Did I eat something I shouldn’t have? Did I make some mistake I was unaware of? Did I deserve this? All of these questions go through your mind.
And still, I watched this little girl in a tutu… I watched her being born, I watched her grow and I embraced her. At the pool, at a birthday party, we talked, we laughed. I kept my mind and my heart open to their joy.
My husband knew the pain I felt though. The pain that even though it was smoothed over and healing bit by bit, would never be completely erased because 1) you can never completely erase the pain of loss but also 2) I knew our chance had passed.
My husband was nervous about trying again. He was older, I was older. He worried about my health. So many things to worry about. And we had agreed we were done.
What affect miscarriage has on your life moving forward…
But my heart ached. I kept 4 chairs at the family dinner table. When I picked flowers, I picked 4. I kept my heart open to what I felt was right and necessary – to complete our family.
The truth was that I felt our family just wasn’t complete and that feeling made me restless. But it also made me dream. It took a solid year of dreaming before my husband agreed… okay, let’s try again.
Doctors gave us the unpleasant statistics about repeated miscarriages, my age (I was now 41), my husband’s age (he was now 49) and still I was yearning for a baby. Life just didn’t seem quite right. I had felt in limbo for so long.
We had started trying to conceive back in 2008, so imagine, this has been an adventure of pregnancy, fertility, birth of my first son, loss, over many years. I felt I couldn’t move forward in life the way we were meant to because I was still ‘waiting’ for my second child to arrive. It’s hard to describe, but it was that inner knowing, or tug at your soul that you may have felt at some time. You can try to brush it off, distract your mind, pretend you’re ok without it – and truth be told – I would have lived a happy life if we’d never had our second child. But it would have always felt like something was missing. And I so desperately wanted another child.
There are so many parts to this story.
My son, Ben, who is now nearly 6 years old had it in his mind for years, that he wanted a baby. I know it sounds like something any mom would say, but it’s true and extremely significant in this story.
Benjamin was drawn to babies. Everywhere we went, if there was a baby around, he was gushing. He couldn’t help himself. He was a magnet to any baby, anywhere. This went on for years, probably since he was maybe 3 years old or even earlier.
It was so pronounced that when we went to NYC when he was 4, he threw a coin in the fountain at Rockefeller Center and wished for a baby!
When he would find a dandelion (he found many) and blow it to make a wish, he would wish for a baby… each time.
In September of 2015, for his 5th birthday (we were pregnant with my second son, but he didn’t know it at the time), he wished for a baby.
This kid was not playing around. He was committed. I look back and revel at his unwavering faith.
Unwavering, child-like faith
During those long months before my second son, Ike, was conceived, I doubted many times. I once became so disheartened that I took down my wall art that hung in my office that said, “You will have your cake and eat it too.” I’d bought that when I learned about the secret, the nature of the universe and our ability to have, do and be what we really wanted.
But in my despair, it seems that I couldn’t have, do or be what I wanted. So I gave up. I took it down. I said to myself and to my husband… this has affected my entire life philosophy. I said it through tears.
Why was I meant to go through the joy of pregnancy and the pain of loss? Everyone in my family grieved the loss of our little girl. What was it all for?
I struggled with that question and its answer for a long time.
Yet, I held onto my vision.
My friends, Vision is more important than I can possibly communicate to you. It may very well hold the key to your entire future. I don’t know the answer to why loss happens. But I will tell you this:
I began visualizing a child. I visualized the birth of my new baby. I saw myself leaving the hospital over and over again in my mind.
I saw it so clearly, felt it so intensely. I would end my visualization sessions with tears of gratitude streaming down my face.
I saw my husband carrying the baby’s car seat. I saw myself walking out to the car holding my 5 year old’s hand. I felt the wind against my face. I saw myself getting in the car with tears on my face, streaming from gratitude.
Over and again I saw this.
**I’ll write more about other things I did to support the energy of my fertility on this post a bit later (it included things like feng shui, loa and more)
When I became pregnant with Ike, who is now my second son, we had agreed to try only a few times. I promised my husband that after that, I would make my peace with what is.
And when I got that positive pregnancy test, I nearly fell down. I sobbed and sobbed. Tears of gratitude.
All those months and years. My faith had wavered. My husband’s faith had wavered. My son at age 3, 4, 5… his faith never wavered. NEVER. Not once. Never.
He demonstrated what we think of as child-like faith.
Doesn’t the bible speak of that? To have the faith of a child? His innocence, his focus on his love of wanting a baby, it sustained me in ways that I never could have imagined.
I wonder now if that love and desire was put in his heart in order that we might try and try again. I wonder about a lot of things. And funny enough, there’s even more to this story involving a spiritual connection to my father who had passed the year before and a message he sent me about a new child. But I’ll have to save that for a future writing.
Here is what I have learned…
- yes, there are things that happen in life that transcend our understanding. but it doesn’t mean that suddenly all things are out of our control. we have power still and can continue as conscious creators of our lives.
- faith may waver, be tested, or fall into the pits of despair. but if we can assume a child-like faith and find that inner-knowing, we have even greater power to affect our reality.
- send love to others that have something you would love to have. if you want a child and see other people getting pregnant left and right, don’t look at them with despair or disdain, envy or jealousy. bless them. always bless the joys and successes of others. in doing so, you bless yourself.
- use vision and visualizing to tap into what you truly desire. while we don’t understand how this works (is it energy, vibration, quantum physics, light, photons, God up in the clouds, what?) we know that it works. just like turning a light bulb on… we don’t have to understand how it works in order to use it. use vision and visualization.
- use gratitude because expressing it intensely for something you don’t yet see is so powerful.
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen”
Here are a few photos of our days in the hospital when my second son was born. They are days of immense joy that are hard to describe. Both of my children have been so very much prayed for and wished for. If you are in this position right now or know someone who is where I was, please share this article with them. There is no one right answer for everyone. But if a child is your absolute highest desire, you may consider what I’ve said as a message to keep the faith.
The day the I got left the hospital in April 2017 with my two sons, baby in carrier and climbed into the car, our family of four, I sobbed. Tears streamed down my face as I realized my dream. My vision had become reality and my faith sustained. Sending you love my soul friend…. Bridgett