Heart Talk: Pregnancy after Miscarriage

27 week bump with my little handsome 

(Sometimes I hold back from writing certain things because I just don't know what is appropriate to share with such a large group of people and what isn't. But recently my mom encouraged me to write to my Gran, and my family in Texas because this blog is pretty much the only way they can tell what's going on in my daily life. So, here it goes, several bursts from my heart. It's going to be a jumbled mess...)

The past month or so has been so wonderful and so emotional on so many levels. Several sweet readers have written to me asking if I am alright or telling me that they miss my posts. First, thank you for asking. :) You are so kind and sweet. Nothing significantly crazy has happened. We are super good, the baby's healthy and Kael is thriving in his new stages of toddler-hood. I've been trying to be present in every moment with him, enjoying every second. I've been going through layer after layer of processing my own heart and trying to enjoy the moments, simple and extravagant alike. My hands have been busy making dolls. I love making things that make people happy. And, making some extra money on the side is pretty amazing, even if it's just a little. ;)

This pregnancy is the most precious time I've ever had in my life, and it's also the most delicate, confusing and quite honestly...painful time as well. Nothing can be helped, the fact is, immediately after I lost one baby another one started to thrive. One week,  I'm on top of the world, ready to write and create my heart out.  The next, I'll get lost in my thoughts as I stare out the window, washing dishes or typing a blog...then I'll just bend over and cry for 5 minutes because I still don't understand what exactly my heart is feeling. I'm fine on the outside, but I'm the strangest abstract painting of emotions on the inside.  So much so that I don't even get it.  I still miss the baby we lost in November. It's the silent fact that screams at me everyday.  It still feels like it was just a couple weeks ago and not 7 months. And yet, I have never felt more love for my new baby boy, don't think that any of that negative emotion is reflected on him. I feel that this pregnancy is more sacred and cherished to me, even more than Kael's was. Not because this baby is more special,  I just realize how fragile life really is on a new level now. 

I've battled with lots of fear the past months, I'm not gonna lie. That's hard for me because my whole life, I've never really struggled with that consuming emotion, not like this. Is fear even an emotion? I don't even know. Whatever it is, I constantly have to push through it. The other night I was getting ready for bed and I smelled something awful, similar to, but not exactly like the discharge I had the night before I started bleeding with our miscarried baby. My chest got tight, and I went to bed inwardly paralyzed with fear. Then I started cramping. (Which is pretty much a normal thing during pregnancy...especially round ligament like cramps/pain.) On top of that,  the baby decided to take a nap for a good 30 minutes and not move.... that combination had my heart racing. I couldn't sleep until I felt him wiggling again.  The next morning, I woke up to him trying to have a dance off.  I knew everything was fine. But, it's just that added tension that is wearing my heart out. The continual wondering, and constant bug eyed look when something feels off. 

A lot of the time, my mind, even when it's still, has these feelings and thoughts constantly running through them, even when no one else can tell. Sometimes, it feels like I need to overcompensate in my own being for the unsteadiness and unsolved concoction of emotions that I feel. Overall, I have always been a positive person. So, it's been really strange for me, in the long run, to daily deal with, well...a broken heart. I mean,  even as I write that one phrase, "broken heart," tears start filling my eyes so that I can't see what I'm typing. It's frustrating to me. I don't want this beautiful pregnancy, with my beautiful baby boy, to be all about what we lost, who we lost. That doesn't seem fair. It doesn't seem right. But then it doesn't seem fair to forget Windland and act like he or she never happened, does it?  I've tried to push the whole experience of us miscarrying to the furthest place in the back of my heart.  When I do that, it ends up building and smoldering, until it eats through all my happy times and it's worse. Then, I'll try and accept what my heart is going through. Then I feel like I'm obsessed with something so tragic and sad, not fully being able to rejoice in the moments.  I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the oxymoron of being devastatedly crushed and being ecstatically elated at the same time.

I have a tendency to over analyze myself, to the point where it's just pretty much ridiculous. I've always longed to be the friend and person that is easy to be around, encouraging and no drama policy. Lately, I feel that when people see me, they see the naked, confused brain of mine, trying to figure herself out. Of course they probably don't, but another weight of pressure is placed on my heart by its own self. You know when you get a bouquet of roses or some sort of flower. Right when they are on their last leg you barley touch them and a blob of petals just fall to the table. That's what I feel like. I still have color, a little more droopy maybe than normal, but have any close contact with me of any real substance and a part of me will fall a part. Is that a good analogy? Well, it works in my brain and that what I feel like so often.

I'm not walking around like a big soppy mess. I promise.  My heart truly has been thriving and growing in joy and love in so many places lately. I really have been having some of the most precious, happy days lately... This new little dreamer of mine has truly been the sweetest gift. I can say that now. At first it all seemed like a cruel joke. What do you do with anger and grief when a new little life enters the middle of it, needing and deserving your joy and love? What do I do when every stage of him growing sweetly inside of me would be a kiss and a knife to my heart at the same time? Loving my heart to hope and goodness and then a reminder of what I would never feel with the little soul we lost. What do you do with that? "Oh, he moved SO strong just now!" Instantly my heart might linger to the place of, "I never got to feel my other baby move like that and I never will..." Yes, I know, why go there? Why torture myself? I don't know. I'm not doing it on purpose. Talk about being confused and feeling guilty. Can't you just enjoy the baby you have now? I am, I promise... How can I feel so empty and broken but so "my cup runneth over" at the same time?  Heck, I have no idea. It's a mystery to me.

Even with our sonogram of finding out if he was a boy or girl, it was tainted with fear. Finding out the sex of the baby wasn't in the forefront of my mind. I had prepared myself so hard for something to be terribly wrong, that when HE was healthy and strong, I was in shock for a good 2 days. Allowing my mind to just relax and enjoy was disturbingly difficult. Everything is just...different now. Everything. I just wanted to sit quietly somewhere and not talk. All I wanted was to think about what had just happened.  "My baby is ok. His heart is beating and it's healthy. He's alive. He's going to be alright. I'll actually get to hold him and kiss his face. It's alright Jess, this is real, it's not a mean joke."  But instead of just going with what I needed, I overcompensated to my own brain and forced a bouncy, happy, go lucky attitude. That means I'm happy about it, right? Oh, Jess...when will you learn just to be what you need to be in the moment instead of what you think you need to be. Don't get me wrong, it was a precious day that is one of my favorites. That looming factor is just there and sometimes I frustrate my own self. 

I had a long talk with Sam the other night. (I have the sweetest husband, seriously.) Well, more like he listened to me for 2 hours, verbally process all of this. He ended up telling me that he didn't think my heart had allowed itself to fully process, grieve  and realize all that had happened with losing something, no, someone so precious. I've somehow convinced myself that I'm just fine and dandy. The confusing and sad thoughts that invade my mind at many hours of the day don't count. I just mark the good and happy ones. Does that make sense? It's like I'm trying to control the feelings of my heart. It's like trying to hold back the late afternoon tide with an open 8oz sized plastic baggie. But, somehow in my mind, I'm convinced that works so, I do it again and again. Why am I verbally dumping so many raw thoughts right now? I don't know. Maybe because I can see how my heart has, in some small ways and in some big ways, already healed and mended back together in certain places the past 7 months and I want to have something to compare it to the next 7? I also know that sometimes my heart finds release when I journal and document what is going on. The first post I did helped me in countless ways. Maybe I am just a little desperate again...reaching a point to where I can finally admit to myself that I'm still walking through certain valleys of heartbreak. Grieving doesn't mean you're not rejoicing. It doesn't mean you don't see the good. In a way, I think it shows how much you cherish the good maybe? I've had several amazing hearts write to me asking me how I've coped, healed and walked through this chapter of life in miscarriage etc. I don't know. I feel like I'm still trying to figure that out myself. I will say that educating myself on healthy ways the human heart grieves and the importance of each stage was vital to me. Also, not pushing away the reality of WHO you lost was and is crucial. I wrote a letter to our lost baby at a certain point that released a huge part of my heart. (I still every once in a while will write Windland a note when I feel my heart needs to. I even pray sometimes that Jesus or angels or whoever does that in heaven will hold my baby extra close and kiss him or her goodnight for me. That may seem weird, and maybe it is, but for me it helps.)

I'm not writing this mile long blog to really do anything but let some of my thoughts escape from the cage of my brain and soul. Maybe some of the splatters from their impact on this screen will make sense to me later on and even seem beautiful in a way. I know it's a jumbled mess, and Lord I know it's wheezing in the "making sense" department. But, I felt that an update on the progression of my emotions with everything was needed. Maybe half of one of these long winded sentences might in a weird way encourage a girl having gone through something similar. Empathy. Just knowing someone else if feeling something close to what you are feeling can sometimes be more healing that a thousand encouragements. Sometimes empathy is the best gift. 

I will tell you that in the past few weeks, the reality of my new baby boy has hit me like a mac truck. I am so head over heels in love with him. For the first time in my entire pregnancy, I had a beautiful dream about him. I had a great birth, and experienced the first weeks of his sweet little life. It was precious. I actually saw his sweet face, crystal clear. We bonded. So much so that when I woke up, I was a little disappointed because it was so real that I reached over to our co-sleeper hold him and then I saw my belly. Haha. He is such a gift to my soul, more than I even understand. I cannot tell you how every fiber of my body yearns for that first moment when I get to hold him. I ache to feel his little self in my arms.

I'm so thankful this baby boy of mine is overly active in m'belly. I used to sigh and pray that Kael would be still for a little while so I could sleep more easily. Not with this baby! Every repetitive movement is therapy to my soul and a kiss to my heart telling me that he's ok. Every hiccup and flip has the effects of reminding me that he's coming, for real and so truly. He's my little gift, treasure and oh how I'm going to treasure every freaking second I have with him.

How do I sign off on this? haha. Um...well, I don't know. I kinda feel strange at the flow of this entry. Maybe I won't post it. Maybe I will.

Jess, feel what you need to. You're loving the best, most beautiful you can, your babies know that. Don't over think yourself please. If you need to take a 10 minute break and cry, do it. If you are enjoying the h*ll out of your day and your week of pregnancy, that's ok and fantastic! Love is love, through pain and through joy. You'll express it in tears, both happy and broken. You'll feel it in heartache and in new life. Let love just be love and go with it.

"...even darkness is light to you..." psalm 139

Tears Are A Language

Tears. Tears have been a language to me. A way for my heart to speak, when I don't know what to say or can't say. Even after they spill over my cheeks, running down my chest, I can feel the cold air of the room letting me feel the patterns they've left on my face. The skin on my face feels cold and tight, but there's some sort of comfort in that? Then, all of a sudden my face is warm again, more tears. 

Miscarriage has been one of the scariest of words to me. It's also a word that I never thought would be a part of my life story, but who ever thinks it will be?  

1 week late. 2 weeks late. 3 weeks late. I knew it. I knew my body felt different. I knew what "this" kind of "different" was. I was pregnant. Was I pregnant? Denial. My first set of thoughts were a mixture of "what the holy heck!!!??" a twinge of excitement, and Eeeee! Then, all out fear set in as I thought of the knitty gritty. I was in a tango of passionate, flip-flop emotions.

This called for a crying session on my back porch, one evening, in the middle of the maybes and might- bes. I let the fears gush out, that had piled high during my pregnancy with Káel and his birth. (I had a really emotional and stressful pregnancy with Kael and one heck of a labor experience. If you aren't familiar with it, you can go and read about it here and here.) Only Jesus and the little night critters in our woods were listening. Sam was inside. I had snapped at him, which was another clue that my body was out of kilter. Not the hormones again! I'm just starting to feel normal! The swing I was laying on had damp cushions from the rain that we'd had earlier in the day. My shirt was slowly starting to feel cold and wet. I didn't care. This was real and I had to address my heart. After the last sob ebbed, I looked up and watched the tops of the trees rock back and forth. The sound of their leaves were soothing, like the sound of the ocean. I felt a wave of comfort. Jesus was calming and kissing my soul. It was a really beautiful time of healing for my heart that I'll treasure forever. It was ok if I was pregnant.  I got up from my porch swing, ready to do this, still freaked out, but ready. Samuel was as supportive as ever.  I was holding my breath.  

A few days later, 2 faint lines on 2 separate pee sticks, confirmed what what my body had been telling me. I was pregnant. Sam was so excited. I cried a few tears with one of my best friends as the reality hit me. Then, we switched into gear with a snap. Samuel started telling me names that he liked. I started envisioning a wee baby and a sibling for Forest boy. We were ready to have another baby and it was amazing. That same day, I saw a few of my closest girl friends and I blurted out the news. Squeals erupted! We planned on telling our family at Thanksgiving, as we all sat around the table telling each other what we were thankful for. I even posted a fake "Aunt Flo" status on Facebook to throw my family off. I felt like this time around was going to be so redemptive and lovely. I was so sure. 

"Dear Little Darling, 

Today I found out that you are here. I told a few of  my closest friends about you. Your Daddy is so excited and so am I. I was afraid at first. But now, I'm SO excited. One day we will laugh together about today. I already feel your goodness and the beauty that's inside of you. I love you. 

-Momma"

I went to bed and smelled the most awful smelling discharge. I thought it was strange but, just brushed it off as a pregnancy thing. Sam and I had sparkles in our eyes and I made myself close the name book and go to sleep. I was going to call my midwife tomorrow. She was going to be so excited. I woke up the next morning and there was blood, lots of it. I ran to the bathroom and started crying. Samuel was trying to figure out how to help me. What does this mean? Maybe I was never pregnant? The lines were really faint, right? No, my heart was already committed to this. I had taken 2 tests. There was no easy out. I called my sweet midwives and an agonizing week of 50/50's and maybes began. Apparently 50% of women bleed in their pregnancy and they are fine. My midwife told me that it was most likely my body moving the embryo out of my body. But, she said that I could come in for an expensive blood test to confirm or wait a few days.

 I tried to convince myself that I wasn't pregnant at all. It would be easier to deal with. This couldn't be happening to me, could it? But my body and so many other things were telling me that wasn't the case. This was happening. The torture of finding a place to put my emotions was awful. Do I mourn?  Do I hope? How can you do both at the same time and still function? I wrote this during that week, "The heart leans into hope with a fierceness, even when it's afraid of it." I was terrified of hoping because, what if my baby was already gone and I would have to go through the initial pain all over again? What if I don't hope and write it all off and there's a baby in there needing some love and help? But like I wrote, my heart is geared to hope. So, I waited and tried to embrace being vulnerable. But, oh this torturous limbo.

"I'm laying here, bleeding and with every cramp, a shockwave of sadness hits my heart...I was so excited and so sure about you and the future moments I was going to have with you. The limbo is the worst. Maybe you'll be fine, maybe my body will keep rejecting you. I'm sorry. I've tried to sleep. I'm afraid to change my pad because I'm afraid to see 'tissue' which would be you. Please no." 

Being vulnerable is a beautiful, ugly and terrifying place to be. It feels like weakness. It is. It feels like you're left unprotected, open to any and every hurtful thing. Which, you are. For me, embracing being vulnerable is the only way my heart can heal and grow. If I'm in denial and I wall off (which I am very good at doing) my heart can't thrive, live or heal. It stunts me. I embraced being sad. Even in the unknowing.  Jesus would have to be something for my heart that I couldn't be for myself, and I wasn't about to try.

I kept bleeding, having to keep an eye out for tissue. I kept trying not to hope but, at the same time not to loose hope. How the heck does that even work?  I don't know. Up and down, back and forth, I felt like my heart was on the rack, being pulled in two extremes. I'd be at the sink doing dishes, and tears would start pouring down my face. I didn't even know how in the world to pray. My tears were my heart praying, only what He knew I needed to say. I started feeling stressed that maybe I had caused all this because I was freaked out at the thought of being pregnant again. My mom told me that if that were the case, half of the people alive right now, wouldn't be. It kind of made me giggle. 

After several days, my bleeding pretty much stopped although the cramping continued. It was all so weird. I took a digital test and "not pregnant" showed up. I thought I would be ok. I mean, it's not like I was 20 weeks pregnant or something. No, the heart is an amazing thing and mine had bonded with this baby or the idea of this baby, lightening fast. The little face that I had started to picture, was gone. I had blocked some of my heart from emotion and, my strongest wall couldn't hold it back now. The next couple of days were the roughest. I still had cramping and some pregnancy symptoms. It was like a cruel joke. Out of the blue, heavy, silent and sometimes loud wails started to buckle me over. This is a different kind of sadness. I don't really have a grid for this. Those closest to me were and are a dream, encouraging me to take as long as I need to process and heal, however I need to. This is a journal entry the day I had taken the last test that showed negative. 

"I was sobbing really hard today, after I took another test. As I sat there, tears dripping from my face, non-stop, Káel walks over to me and lovingly started patting my leg with his little hand. Just like I pat his back after he's fallen and I hold him. He did this 3 different times. Comfort is precious and beautiful." 

In the backdrop of my mind, there's one part of my heart that has worried people won't know what to say to me, or will be awkward around me if they know what's been going on behind the doors of my heart. Quite honestly, I've felt awkward around me through this. But you know what, this is life. We were made for relationships and we walk through life together in all it's awesomeness and in all it's suckiness. Then another part of my brain thinks my pain is over dramatized. Which, apparently, I'm learning, is a pretty common feeling for women who experience loss, early on in their pregnancy. 

Is there beauty in this?  I can't see it in every moment. But, being real is beautiful. And for me, being heartbroken is real.  I can truly say, as I'm still processing everything, that beautifulness has and is coming from this experience. It's awful, but now my heart can more understand others who have experienced loss, in a way that I would never have been able to fully empathize with or relate to. I've got a gapping hole inside my heart. Who'd have thought something so brief and small, could leave that large of wanting. But, for every emotion of pain that I've felt and feel, there is a tangible promise and reality of love and goodness that I am embracing and throwing myself into. Grace.

Now I know that my heart can be excited about having another baby without fear or hesitation. 

The past couple of months, I've been reading the book "1000 Gifts" which has been a life line of good to my soul and even giving my heart the cush for this confusing time. The author says at one point in the book that everything is grace. It is. Everything is grace, the good, the pain, the beauty, the awful, the bearable, even the unknown. Even in the middle of all this crap, I look around and I see so much wonderful. So much love. So much grace. My son and his thriving sweetness, good Lord! My husband and his heavenly devotion and encouragement, my family, my amazing community and the friends of my heart that are as constant and bright as stars. So much beauty, so much new life, and that makes me happy. I've purposed my heart to not live in an unrealistic dream land through all of this though. If I need to feel sad, that's ok. Loving the good doesn't mean I don't acknowledging the hurt. I can mourn and process all the emotion of not understanding and letting go while seeing the kisses blow my way.

"Well little darling, you were like a small breeze. You came and went. But, you created a storm of love in my heart. This has been so hard. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't get to hold you and kiss your face. Maybe I will one day? I love you my wee little Windland. Goodbye. -Momma"

I wrote this blog not knowing if I'd ever press the publish button. I wrote it mostly just for my heart to process some thoughts and emotions. This is me being real, kind of raw and it's me being vulnerable. So, There are so many things in life I don't understand. This is one of a million of them. I have so many questions. "God is always good, and I am always loved." I believe this. I know this. (quote from 1000 Gifts)  I heard someone say recently that "There can be no music without tension." Unless a string is wound tight with tension the bow can't release the melodies. Unless there is tension, the fingers can't pluck out the notes. That right there has been on repeat in my mind. It doesn't explain anything really, but in a way it comforts me. This is my tension in life right now. I'm listening to hear the music.