I wrote this over a year ago in the midst of losing our baby and never had the courage to hit publish. Now, I have a beautiful 3-month-old rainbow baby and I am hoping that another mom will read this and feel less alone on her journey.
There is a positive pregnancy test sitting on my bathroom counter. It has been there since Christmas Day.
I lost the baby a few short weeks after taking that test and now I don’t know what to do with it.
The positive tests from when I found out I was having my daughter are safely tucked away inside of a ziplock bag in her baby book. Nestled right between her first sonogram and every first memory that I never want to forget.
So what do I do with this test? It’s there every day. It is one of the first things I see when I wake up and one of the last things I see before I close my eyes at night.
The other day, I even picked it up to clean under it, and set it right back down on the counter.
I can’t bring myself to throw it away.
A miscarriage at 6 weeks isn’t what I expected it to be. There was no severe pain or excessive bleeding. I didn’t even really think that a hospital visit was necessary, but my doctor’s office insisted.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the emotional journey.
The words I repeated the most the first week after losing our baby was “I know I’m crying, but really I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t fine. I just felt like I had to be fine. Not because anyone told me that I should be fine, in fact, they told me the opposite, but because I couldn’t wrap my head around how I could be this heartbroken after losing a child I never even saw.
How can I be sad when I know a mother who carried her baby to 20 weeks and lost him?
How can I be sad when a couple we know just lost their child who was only a few months old?
How can I be sad when I have witnessed a mother’s gut-wrenching pain after losing her 17-year-old son?
The truth is, I still can’t tell you. The emotional connection that I felt to a child who I never saw with my own eyes, never felt kick inside my stomach, and who’s tiny little heartbeat I never even heard will be something that I don’t think I will ever be able to explain.
All I know is that the pain is there, and it is real.
And it rears its head at the strangest times and in the strangest places.
Sometimes, when I look at my daughter, I feel the all too familiar knot forming in my chest thinking that the baby I lost could have been her. Or that there was a baby inside of me that never got the chance to feel my love. Our love.
I don’t know how to explain the way I feel. I logically know the scientific reasons behind a miscarriage. I spiritually know that God has a plan.
Emotionally, I just can’t explain it.
So, there the pregnancy test sits. A constant reminder of what could have been.
But maybe subconsciously that is why I keep it there. To never let myself forget about the child who will forever hold a piece of my heart.
I’m sure as time goes on the emotions will subside and I will move on, but for now, I am giving myself a pass to feel.
To feel whatever I feel without questioning why I feel it.