Until We Meet Again

This past week has been an extremely difficult week. This is the week I should be finding out if my babies are boys or girls. I should be prepping my older boys in the excitement. I should be going shopping for gender outfits and I should be planning a celebration. In fact, I’m not. I’m not doing any of those things. At this pregnancy milestone I’m instead trying not to blink for fear that the icy tears of disappointment and grief that are pooling in my eyes will spill over. If my sadness is masked by my lack of blinks it won’t be hidden with my burning hot cheeks, my red nose, my puffy eyes(I am not an attractive crier) as I soak in this new and different sense of longing. If this wasn’t enough also coupled with this week is the painful reminder brought on by my first period since the miscarriage. Since I lost them. You know blood is a funny thing. It is part of what gives us life, and yet, it in this case it’s a painful reminder of everything that isn’t.

Baby LossMy heart still hurts. I still find myself bringing my hands protectively to my belly expecting to feel it’s roundness as if my presence there can change what is no longer. My eyes magnetize to every beautiful pregnant woman around me focusing on her growing belly which of course seems like these days is everywhere I look. I long to put my hands on my belly and feel them there, safe. I long to feel their kicks. And damn it I even long for the morning sickness to assure me everything is okay. But it isn’t, and every time I’m only being reminded of my own emptiness.

This is still hard. I feel like with miscarriage it’s expected that you’ll get over it quickly. Maybe the thought is that it’s not like the babies were really here. I realized how quickly the perceived grieving period for a miscarriage is…maybe a week at most? And then you’re expected to push your grief aside and jump right back in to life with a smile on your face. Maybe I’m wrong in that assumption but regardless for me the pain is still real. Sure, it’s not as raw as it was 2 months ago; I’m not crying at the drop of a hat, or the mention of a new pregnancy and I certainly have more good days than bad but it’s most definitely there. I know everything I’ll be missing with the twins as I look at my 3 beautiful boys recalling all my experiences with them… I’ll be missing their tiny flutters inside my belly, their kicks and jabs as they grow, and the excitement leading up to their birth. I will be missing their beautiful birth story, holding them for the first time, covering them in kisses, getting to know each of their tiny little features. I’ll be missing comforting their cries, hearing their sweet giggles and coos, encouraging them to walk, to talk. I’ll be missing them calling me mama, rocking them to sleep, and kissing their booboos. I’ll be missing seeing them grow and learning their own unique qualities despite their identical looks. Instead, I’m just missing them.

But I am timidly pressing forward. Something I am incredibly grateful for are supportive friends. The ones that still ask how I’m doing, know when to be protective, and yet are also there with hugs as I bravely face discomforts because I want very much to be included in everything. I have beautiful reminders of my tiny twins that I hold on to and wear close to my heart that I can cling to when I am missing them. I’ve learned the hard way how to support friends through pregnancy loss, what not to say, and how heavy their hearts are. I am pressing forward knowing that there must be a reason for this. Though I can’t walk with my head held high yet, I am walking…one foot in front of the other. Confidence slowly finding it’s footing. Will these be our last babies? We don’t know. We felt certainty and finality over this pregnancy and our new definition of family so we’re carefully praying. Carefully waiting and hoping for answers. But never forgetting.

My heart still hurts, this is still hard, but I am timidly pressing forward. 

Sadly so many women have gone before me in pregnancy loss. I pray that no one ever feels this type of pain again but with a heavy heart I know am I am not the last. I am not alone in this journey and yet, some days I feel like I am. And some days I want to be as my shoulders heave and I relinquish to the tears seeking solitude. My heart goes out to all the women hurting. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. To all the women that have lost babies. To all the women that are longing to be moms. To all the women that have loved and lost or not even had the chance to love. My heart is with you. 

What I do know is that my heart, though full of the life and laughter of my 3 older boys and loving husband, will always have a void until we meet again.

9 Comments on “Until We Meet Again”

  1. Thank you for this. I hope you don’t mind, but I posted it on my Facebook page. Your mom is my client (I do her hair) and she shared this with me today. I have spent a lot of time not allowing myself to be sad. Pretending to be over the baby I lost end of November. Today after reading your post, I felt a grace for myself to be sad. To not be over it. It’s such a forever process. Thinking about you. XO

    • Astacia, Thank you so much for your comment. And I don’t mind at all that you shared it on your facebook page–I love and encourage that! I am so so sorry to hear that you too have had a miscarriage. Please give yourself the grace you need and deserve. It really is a forever process isn’t it? My heart goes out to you. ~Greta

  2. Thank you for sharing your story! Praying for you in this difficult time! I have never been pregnant but lost a precious niece or nephew a few years ago and the pain is still real. Thankful for the assurance that one day we will get to meet and that you will get to meet your sweet babies!

  3. Greta thank you for your transparency in your post. I’m so sorry for you and your husband. So unbelievably painful. May your story bring hope and healing to other women going through this pain of loss. I’m passing it on to my friends in the event that someone could use your words today. Stay close to your husband; I can only imagine he’s grieving right alongside you. God bless you both as you continue to grieve and heal.

  4. Beautifully written from a brokenness you are willing to embrace. I am drawn to you to your willingness to be open and vulnerable and allow yourself the pain and the time to grieve. Blessings to you and your family!

  5. Am soooo soooo sorry for your loss. I lost my unborn brothers(3) so I know this isn’t easy. And yes, you never get over it. Best wishes and luck. May God be with you and your family.

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