My Grief: One Year Later

I guess this post should start off with something about how busy we have been the last few weeks. Since my last post we have had school field trips, end of year programs, family vacation, piano recitals, vacation Bible school and my annual summer cleaning of every room in my house. It seems as if the days fill up faster and I am slower at getting most things accomplished. Being this busy has actually been a blessing for me, you see the busier I am the less time I have to think. I can keep my mind focused on everything else going on and not on the fact that it has been a year. This last week I have not been able to stop thinking about it, even with everything that is going on, it seems to be in the forefront of my mind. You see, one year ago on June 24, I made an unexpected trip to the emergency room. This trip would take me down a road I had already traveled twice before. This trip would bring back so many sad and tragic memories. This trip would break my heart for the third time and bring all the same haunting questions back around. Those of you somewhat familiar with my story may know of what I am speaking, but others will be just learning about it, so let me explain. On June 24, 2013 at 1:30 in the morning we dropped our two children off with our neighbor and rushed to the ER. I did not take them with me, because I knew in my heart what was happening and I did not want them to be a witness to the struggle. I knew before the doctor ever saw me that our precious little baby, the child we had prayed and longed for, was no longer with us. I was 12 weeks along and had to go through labor just like I had with my two living children. The pain was only made worse by the fact that I knew I would never hold or see this child. I would never know the sex or get to tell our baby how much they were loved. I had a feeling deep in my heart that our baby was a boy and I have refered to him as such ever since. We decided to name our baby Quinn, which means fifth, seeing as he was my fifth child. It was a long, hard night and I am so glad that my husband stayed right by my side the entire time. It was so hard to tell our children what had happened, they did not even know that I was pregnant. We had keep it a secret, due to my two previous miscarriages and was planning to tell everyone that week after our 12 week ultrasound. Since I had been through this before I knew what to expect both physically and emotionally. I have to say that the emotional things have not left me, in fact I find that after each loss it has been more difficult to go on with life. At times, my grief even now, is so strong that I find I can not breathe. It is as if something heavy is sitting on my chest preventing me from drawing any air into my lungs. It seems that someone has their hand around my heart and is squeezing it to the point of crushing it. This week has been a hard one. It started off on Fathers Day as I cried myself to sleep that night thinking of our babies in Heaven. I went on to cry myself to sleep for the next two nights. There are times I do not even understand myself or my feelings. Let us just get to the point where the rubber meets the road here. I want to be happy and content with my life, but I still long for that third child to make our family complete. The desire to have another child is so strong in me that it hurts. I look around and see all these others getting pregnant, having their babies and I wonder what is wrong with me? I am not going to lie, there have been times when that green-eyed monster called jealousy has rising up in me. I know others who have lost and are now expecting or have had their rainbow baby. I know that they understand how hurtful miscarriage is, but I also hope that they understand that I hurt. The fact that they are having and I am not upsets me. I hate it when I feel that way. It makes me mad at myself, because I know it is wrong and I should be rejoicing for their good news. I would love to have a rainbow baby, but it seems that will not be and it feels as if I have been left out. For those who have children that would be the same age as mine, it hurts to see them. It hurts me to see them do new things and grow, because I can not help but think of my own. I think about how I will never sing Happy Birthday to them. I will never see them take their first steps or speak their first words while on this earth. I do believe that someday when I reach Heaven, I will see them run to meet me and hear them call me Mommy for the first time. That is going to be a wonderful reunion for us. Will I ever get over this? NO!!! I do not expect all to understand. Even a woman who has had one miscarriage can not understand me, the mother who has lost three children. I am happy for you, but do not expect me to jump for joy and stand on the rooftop. I will not be silent, I will talk about my children who are not here, just as you talk about yours that are. The difference is you are teaching your children about the world and I am having to teach the world about my children. In loving memory August 8/10/10 Kate 5/04/11 Quinn 6/24/13