Guest Post by Meghan
I’ve shared bits and pieces of my story at my blog, The Struggling Cyster, but up until recently, I have never spoken the complete truth about everything.
I went to a Christian University, where we attended Chapel three times a week. I struggled a lot with that not being a Christian myself. So to get out of Chapel once a week (and to help myself), I joined a Grief Recovery Small Group. No one had any idea what I had gone through.
I have lost two babies.
We had to create a Loss History Graph and rate our losses by how much they affect us now. The first, I had just found out I was pregnant, only a couple of weeks along.
When I lost my first baby, it was still just tissue. I shut everyone out and let my depression take over. I didn’t tell anyone for months what had happened. I thought it was the worst pain I had ever experienced, physically and emotionally.
It turns out it wasn’t.
I lost another baby.
I was 15 weeks.
I was told my baby would die when I went to the Doctor. They kept telling me to get a D&C, and everything would be okay.
One day I started hurting, and Oh God, the pain was like nothing I have ever felt. I had the urge to pee; it was so strong, then got into the shower. I was bleeding and hurting and cramping. I was scared and alone.
And then, the baby came. She was beautiful.
I couldn’t tell the gender, but it my heart it had always been a girl. She had fingers and toes. She had little webbed toes, I always think of that.
I named her.
My beautiful baby girl. Isobel Arjana.
I stood holding my tiny baby in the shower. The water was pouring down my back just like the tears on my face. I just looked at her and touched her for the longest time. I never wanted to let go.
My friend who is a nurse came and saw me, and took the baby away.
I didn’t want to know where my baby was going or why I couldn’t have her.
I couldn’t go to our hospital.
I lost my insurance.
And just like that, she was gone.
When I shared this story in my small group, I felt the pain all over again. I realized I have to keep living, even if I’m not the “old me.” But I learned that even though it hurts (and it hurts like hell), talking about it does help. Crying does help.
It’s natural to be depressed and cry, just make sure you don’t let it go far. Get help if you need it. It’s okay. Do not be ashamed of those feelings.
I always tell myself, that she’s up there watching. She can’t wait to have baby sisters and brothers, but she is happily waiting on Mommy and Daddy.
This is my only picture of my baby, at nine weeks.
[I have since been checked out by doctor’s, and my health is the best it can be.]