Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Losing # 3: The Post I Never Wanted to Write



**I wrote this post nearly two weeks ago, but it's taken me this long to get the courage to post. Every time I am deathly afraid to write about these losses, but I want all of this to be meaningful and hopefully it will help someone else.**

I'm sitting here in my little office upstairs, listening to my daughter babble to my husband as he patiently gets her ready for bed. The toddler temper flares slightly from being sleepy and the four teeth that all the sudden have decided to cut, but he speaks to her so tenderly. I can't help but think about what a great daddy he is.

And I'm sitting here, contemplating the post I'm about to write and not wanting to talk about this at all; not wanting to type the words. I've said it out loud, but writing it down just seems so, well, permanent.

We lost baby #3 last week. 

Three. Three little babies that are gone. Three little ones that I will never get to hold or cuddle, or breastfeed in the middle of the night, so very sleepy but feeling so incredibly blessed to have this little squishy baby in my arms.

I've gone back and forth about even sharing this. With the first, it was cathartic to write about the situation. The second, we still had hope, and I wanted others to know that they weren't alone. This time? Now I'm starting to be in a place all on my own. 1% of women experience 3 or more miscarriages in a row.

I didn't want to share because people say things that are so very hurtful, even when they are trying to help. "Taking a break", "relaxing about the situation",  "it'll happen eventually", "you'll be okay you're young" just pierce into that little part of my heart that is forever aching for these babies. It just feels like these little ones are being brushed aside, like they don't matter because we didn't get to meet them.

But I felt the sickness, I slept away the tiredness, my body changed for each of these babies.

Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad to have family and friends that want to support me through this situation, and I would never want to make them feel bad. It's just... well, nothing is going to bring them back and all I really need is a hug and an "I'm sorry."

The hardest thing about this loss? We weren't even trying. In fact, the exact opposite. I felt like God had a plan for us, and that was finally having another baby. I know He still does, but just not the plan that I desperately wanted.

This journey has been so incredibly hard. I'm frustrated with the doctor that I'm currently seeing because when something went wrong this time, after seeing a baby on the ultrasound, he didn't even try to help.

I'm mad because I'm pretty sure that it's just a hormone deficiency, but no one wants to listen to me. Of course they will now test for it "the next time."

I'm sad because I can't get into the doctor that I really want to see until August, and after 6 months and 3 lost babies, August just seems like a lifetime away.

I'm tired, because my body is run down and my brain won't shut off.

I feel alone because it feels like I'm the only one in the world that knows this pain. Even though I know that's not true,  I have such a hard time not feeling that way.

I feel angry at myself for any time I ever complained while I was pregnant with Juliet, because I would give anything to be in that place again.

Most of all, I hurt. I hurt more than I thought was possible. I hurt for the children I didn't get to meet, for my husband who I feel like I can't give a baby to, and for my daughter because she would be the best big sister in the world.

9 comments:

  1. Caitlin, I am so sorry to hear this. It makes my heart hurt for you, please know I'm praying for you! 💛

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  2. I love you. I'm so sorry for your losses. And I'm always here if you need to talk.

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  3. Sending love and strength, Caitlin. I am so sorry that you and your family have to go through this.

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  4. Caitlin, I am SO incredibly sorry for what you and your family are going through. I know there's nothing I can say that will make things better. But, please know I'm here if you need anything... even if you just need to talk. Sending prayers and love to you.

    xoxo
    Kat

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  5. I'm so sorry for what you all have been through. I love you and I'm here anytime you want to talk.

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  6. This just breaks my heart. There are no words to provide you comfort, but I'll be praying for you. I lost two babies in a row before finally getting pregnant with my daughter. It was the darkest, most devastating time in my life and I felt angry, sad, and frustrated. I felt that no one understood, and all I wanted to do was cry and be alone. I think those feelings are normal and it's okay to be that way. Once my daughter arrived, thankfully, it eased the pain, but those due dates are always special in my mind (my daughter was actually due on the due date of our first loss). I believe we will meet those babies again someday. Sending hugs!!

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  7. I'm so, so, so sorry. I can't help but I can pray. And I will pray for healing, for hope, for strength and for grace! <3

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  8. OH my gosh, my heart is breaking for you. Virtual hug and many prayers you get some answers.

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  9. Caitlin, I am so very sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your journey with us despite the pain. I am sure that other women will benefit from your honesty. <3

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