What is Left of a Lost Pregnancy

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I was eight weeks and two days pregnant when I saw the unmistakable look of sadness and pity on the ultrasound tech’s face. Her voice was filled with the undertones of both hopefulness and desperate sadness: “Maybe you are too early, let’s see what the doctor says.”

This was my fifth pregnancy and what I was certain was now also my second miscarriage. Like my first miscarriage, there were no signs of anything wrong at all. I had no bleeding, no cramping, and I for sure no longer fit into any of my jeans. My body, like my mind, wanted to keep the pregnancy. The denial lived in every cell of my body. I was nauseous, I gained weight, and I was tired all the time.

I was pregnant, and yet I was not. My doctor referred to it as a “missed miscarriage.” 

The days and weeks that followed consisted of weekly ultrasounds to check for any change, but there never was. For some people, I think a miscarriage is quick: there is cramping, bleeding, and then loss. For me the process takes weeks and weeks, and I have to face really hard choices.

I am not someone who ever wanted to have a D&C, which is a surgery that removes the pregnancy, the lost baby. Having my baby taken from my body, it killed me. I wanted to be alone in my home, I wanted to mourn the loss in private. I wanted God to take my baby back home, not a surgeon. In the end, I had no choice.

I went home to a house full of precious children. Life went on. I didn’t cry at night, I was too numb. What was left of me was someone I didn’t fully know. I was a mother, I was a friend, I was a person who had lost a baby to miscarriage.

I told very few people. I am private, and pain is something I keep so tight to myself, it sometimes feels like a physical object that I carry around with me. Holding on to the hurt, keeping it close to my heart, somehow felt like holding a friend’s hand.

The pain was mine to hold tight, to keep. I wanted to be okay, I wanted to heal. As the years creep by, I realize that my loss was okay. The miscarriage was now woven into the strands of who I was as a human, as a woman. What was left was a mother of earthly babies . . . and heavenly babies.

I was the same person, and yet, I was completely different. 

My rainbow baby came almost three years later. His pregnancy and his birth healed a lot of the dark parts in my heart that I had come to think would be with me forever. His little life is a gift. I hold him tighter and stare at his face a little longer. Every cell in my body knows, and it remembers. 

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Alli is a Birmingham native who always knew she wanted to be a mommy to many, but had no idea that would turn into many little boys! While being a "boy mom" was not what she expected, you will now find her trudging through the woods and happily exploring everything "outdoors" with her brood of little men. Happily married to a builder, you might find that her Google searches reveal a never-ending list of home improvements, which leads to lots of screen shots and "Let's do this next" text messages. When not chasing around her boys, you can find her off on a long run, drinking coffee, going out for a girls' night, or wandering the aisles of the most wonderful place on earth, Target.