Monday, February 24, 2014

To My Babylost Sister, Expecting Again...I Understand & It's All Okay

To My Babylost Sister, Expecting Again-

Let me begin by telling you that I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry for your loss.  I’m so sorry you find yourself on this journey, an experience that should be filled with nothing but joy but is tinged with such powerful fear and trepidation.  I also want to extend my congratulations, that you’re carrying in your womb such an amazing gift:  a “rainbow” baby (or babies).  Being in this position, grieving and expecting, is one that often makes no sense and can be described as difficult at best.  My hope is that this letter, this piece of my heart extended to you, will help you to see that you’re not alone.

After you lose a baby, nothing is the same, is it?  Not your everyday, ordinary existence.  Not holidays or celebrations.  Being alive is different in every single way.  You’ve lost a baby, and now you’re pregnant again.  For me, once we found out at our 20-week ultrasound that our daughter was gone, there were two things I wanted desperately:  for the loss part to be over and to be pregnant again.  I wanted to jump to however far in the future it would be, to the day where I was pregnant once again, staring at those two pink lines.  Did you feel like that?  Did you want to be pregnant again, so badly that it overtook all sense and reason and logic?  I remember that longing like it was yesterday.  I remember that yearning, so forceful in it’s forward motion that it threatened to swallow me whole.  

It’s okay to feel like that.  

It’s okay to feel anything you feel right now.  it’s all okay.

My dear sister, it’s okay to be angry and thrilled all at the same time.  It’s okay to feel crushing sadness and buoying joy, entwined together to create an entirely new emotion altogether.  

It’s okay to feel envious of another pregnant woman that’s never miscarried or delivered her stillborn baby because she has never experienced the kind of loss that we have.  We can’t help it, it’s forceful and all-encompassing and it’s okay.

It’s okay to feel like you want to tell people when they ask that there was someone before this sweet baby you carry.  That this longed-for baby is a “rainbow” baby, that this baby is here because you lost one before his/her conception.  It’s okay to mention the child you carry only in your heart any time someone asks about your pregnancies or the number of children you carry.  It’s okay not to mention your lost baby, too.  

It’s all okay.

See, there’s no handbook for this.  There’s no What To Expect When You’re Pregnant After Loss.  There are some excellent resources out there for us, but because each story of loss is so different and carries so many different feelings and facets and perspectives, it’s impossible to write something that includes it all.  We each experienced our loss(es) individually, healed in different ways.  Are still healing in different ways.  But the one thing we all have in common, that we did lose a baby (or babies), weaves a thread among us that we can grasp onto to help keep us afloat when we’re drowning.  It’s this thread that we that are pregnant after a loss must hold onto when we feel like no one understands.

I understand.  

I understand that you’re scared, but you don’t want to be scared because it’s preventing you from being fully present and immersed in the joy of this new life.  

I understand that you simultaneously loathe and look forward to ultrasounds because you never know what’s going to happen.  I understand that every time your provider takes out that doppler, your stomach drops and you feel nauseous and light-headed and want to run out of the room.  

I understand that you want nothing more than to revel in this new pregnancy, yet wish you could just get to the part where this baby is alive, healthy, in your arms.  I imagine seeing our boy for the first time, seeing his pink skin and hearing his precious crying, the sound of vitality.  I see it in my mind’s eye every single day.  I understand not knowing how to balance wanting to stop time and yet catapult yourself into the future of your hopes, concurrently.  

But you know what, my sweet sister? It’s all okay.  Each and every twist in the path.

My hope for you is that when you feel these things, encounter these emotions and feelings, that you can walk through them.  That you can see them coming, the hurt or the pain or the anger or the jealousy, and allow them to wash over you and soak you to the bone then crash behind your back, to only be seen in the rearview mirror.  My hope is that you feel the healing light that will begin to radiate from deep within that broken part of your heart every time you allow those feelings to course through your spirit.  It’s only when we face the demons in the dark do they lose their ability to terrify us.

My hope for you is that you know how amazing you are, how powerful.  I know you are because you’re me.  We’re strong enough for any and every trial we face.  You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, and knowing that it’s all okay?  I hope knowing that will help you to take each step forward, no matter how painful it is.  Because nothing worth having or treasuring is easy to obtain.  

My dear sister in loss, I am so thankful to be walking this road with you.  I’m honored to be counted among this sisterhood with you.  None of us wanted to be here but we are, and I will take your hand in community and love.  My hope is for you to feel the love that each and every one of us are sending to you as you walk this path.  That you sense us praying for the safe arrival of your beloved baby, sense us sending you healthy baby energy and thoughts.  And to take it one step further, no matter what happens in the end?

It’s all okay, my sweet sister.  


Tricia is mama to two beautiful boys and one precious girl that was born too soon, at almost 20 weeks, in March of 2013. Currently 31 weeks pregnant with her fourth sweet babe, Rigby Moses will arrive earthside early in April. Tricia is a contributing writer at Still Standing and also writes about motherhood, family, and her journey to healing after loss at Tricia is a gypsy soul that longs for the mountains of the Pacific Northwest while residing with her beloved husband and babies in a sun-drenched beach town in Florida. You can find her on Pinterest and Instagram @bohomamasoul.

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1 comment:

  1. Oh, thank you for this. I'm 15 weeks pregnant with our rainbow baby and every day I have to make a choice to choose joy and peace over fear and sorrow. It's such a sacred dance.


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