Photo Credit: Alex Good

Our First Half of 2020

Today is our second wedding anniversary. If you know me, you know I’m not one for a simple sappy post. Shits about to get real, I suggest you buckle up.

Months have gone by during which I have gone into survival mode. My heart has been walled in armor. Recent events have broken my heart open again, and here I am to put the spillage into words, to help heal my broken heart and hopefully make you feel less alone along the way.

Many of my people know Matt and I had our first miscarriage in December of 2019. It shook us. It was not what I was expecting once we finally, after 10 years together, decided we were ready for a family.

We became pregnant again, I even got to see our little one’s heartbeat. It was real this time, and the numbers were promising. I was 11 weeks and 2 days pregnant when I went through the worst experience of my life to date, our second miscarriage.

A few weeks after miscarrying our second pregnancy, we went home to the farm to visit Matt’s family and meet with hospice to talk about care for Matt’s mom, Lana, who was battling stage 4 breast cancer. Our lives flipped upside down when we were told how serious her condition was. The entire family stayed by her bedside soaking up all that we could with her; we recalled funny family memories, held her hand, gave her kisses, slept by her, and prayed for her until she passed away on June 4th.

Protection Mode + Moving Forward

Looking back, I envision this being the time that my heart became heavily armored. It went into full on protection mode. Survival mode. With two losses so close together, my grief became discombobulated. My grief for Lana, the loss of a huge maternal influence for half of my life, especially when my brother Ben passed and my mom was understandably unavailable in her grief, Lana was there. And maternal grief for a baby I carried for 11 weeks, but never got to know. I was confused, dumbstruck in awe in the worst way, and felt so alone.

Matt and I contemplated waiting to try to get pregnant again. It is so hard to explain just how much I wanted a baby in my arms after two miscarriages in six months. I talked with Matt’s sister who shared some of her mom’s advice, “Mom said don’t wait. Don’t put your life on hold. You do you.” And with that, and heartfelt conversations between Matt and I, we tried again. 

Photo Credit: Alex Good

Our Third Pregnancy

There was something in me that was fearless during our third pregnancy. All our testing we got after our second pregnancy came back normal. Everyone I talked to who had miscarried preciously sounded like they experienced two miscarriages, with or without a live birth between, and went on to have healthy pregnancies. We carried a baby for 5 weeks, then 11, we are getting there (logical, duh). I urged Matt to not be afraid and to really get on board with being excited about being pregnant and if we miscarried, we could deal with that when it came.

I went into my 7 week ultrasound the Wednesday before labor day weekend pretty excited. I came out in shock. No heartbeat. The words of the techs reverberated in my head, “You could just be early!”. Are you effing KIDDING me? Like I wasn’t a woman obsessed and didn’t know when conception was?! Please.

The experience of our third miscarriage was particularly hard because I had to have three ultrasounds to confirm it was in fact a miscarriage. Three different times of being so vulnerable on the table in an ultrasound and not seeing a heartbeat. Three times of hopefulness, even though I knew I was miscarrying, the tiny hope that maybe it just was too early to detect, maybe, maybe. And after the third and final ultrasound, waiting to finally hear the words so I could move on. A very busy nurse called and started our conversation with, “Yeah, the surgery scheduling is hectic right now, we are working on getting you in…” Her voice trailed off and I had to tell myself, “Sooo, yes Carrie, it is a confirmed miscarriage. You are miscarrying for the third time. The third time in a year.”

Photo Credit: Cherish Alish Photography

Finding Light In The Darkness

This was the moment I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The grief and sadness from my second miscarriage broke down the armor surrounding my heart. The grief, deep sadness and hole in my life that is Lana not being here overflowing out of my heart. It all came rushing out like a freaking waterfall.

Grief is a lonely experience. Grieving a miscarriage is a lonely experience. Grieving 3 miscarriages and my mother-in-law while my husband grieves the death of his mother; was almost unbearable. It has been the most isolated I have ever felt. I do not know anyone who is 30 and has miscarried 3 times with no explanation, but I am sure you are out there. October is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month. October is also breast cancer awareness month. I share my story in hopes that other women going through what I have do not feel as lonely as I have felt.

The darkest nights produce the greatest stars, and as always, I have forged to find hope in the darkness. I have found stars to guide my way forward through this unbelievable grief. I have found out how to be more vulnerable and lean more on my support system. I have found hope in a great online community. I have found podcasts that have been very insightful and educational. I have found out how to communicate and navigate my grief and Matt’s and how we can support one another better. And most importantly, I have found hope that we will conceive a healthy baby when the time is right.

Xoxo,

C