Triggered, But Need Community

Experiencing a miscarriage can leave you feeling so alone. You can be surrounded by so much love and still feel physically alone. You feel empty. It doesn’t matter how early your baby/babies leave your body, you feel the difference when they’re gone. I felt like I was the only person who’d experienced that sort of loss and I yearned to connect with someone who knew what I was going through. My husband was the only one I could describe in detail what I was going through, but I still held back because I knew he was also grieving. 

I prayed and talked to God about the pain I was experiencing and my need to speak with someone or people who’d be vulnerable and transparent about their loss(es). Unfortunately, I had about three friends who’d experienced miscarriages before, but I didn’t want to trigger any emotions in them. They were either pregnant with their rainbow babies or trying to conceive so I kept my question to a minimum, “How did you get through the grief?”. But I craved more. I wanted to hear the details of another mother’s loss so that I could also openly share my experience with them. I needed to know I wasn’t crazy or being dramatic for responding the way I was to the death of my baby. Eventually, God would send someone my way. It was a woman I’d never met, and through an online conference. She made a comment, and I immediately put myself out there by reaching out to her. 

This was a risky conversation to have, and I talked about it with my therapist a lot. She was pregnant with her golden child (pot of gold after the rainbow), and I didn’t want to trigger her with my questions. On the other hand, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to hear about another woman’s traumatic loss without being triggered myself. But I needed the community. I needed the connection. My therapist coached me by saying, “You’ll never know what she’s willing to share if you don’t ask. She’ll let you know what she’s not comfortable talking about.” And wow… She was a blessing indeed. She welcomed me with open arms to a piece of motherhood that we both wish we hadn’t experienced.

Soon after speaking with her, I sought out Instagram pages and Facebook groups. I’d finally found my community, but was not prepared for how triggering it could be on certain days. I had to set boundaries and only visit those pages when I was mentally and emotionally capable of handling the experiences of the other women. There were so many willingly open to sharing their stories and I couldn’t believe it. I’m working on gathering the courage to connect with other women in person. 

If you have and/or are experiencing a loss of pregnancy no matter the way (ie. miscarriage, stillbirth, and more), if you’re trying to conceive, if you’re experiencing infertility and open to it, I encourage you to find community. While it may be triggering in many ways, you need it. You don’t wish the pain and grief on another woman, and you wish it wasn’t something you related to, but you’ll find yourself grateful you’re not alone.

Dear TJ, 

Losing you pushed me into my purpose. I wish I could’ve accomplished all these things with you here.

Love, Mommy…

It’s Not Just a Pregnancy Loss

 It’s been a while, but life has been lifing! I’ve just been trying to live. So many things have happened since I last wrote—so many incredible milestones as well as so much loss. However, the most recent “big” moment for my family was November 8, 2022. If TJ had lived, his birthday may have been November 8, 2020. Every year my family honors him on his due date because his angel day (day of death) never hits me as a day of excitement. 

This year was the first year my husband was able to be home and celebrate our son with the rest of us. We kept it chill, made breakfast, took naps, made tacos since it was also “Taco Tuesday,” sang happy birthday to the moon, and wrote our letters to him. Each year we put our letters in his keepsake box. Every single day of the week the moon was big and bright! It is so reassuring each year to see the moon shine bright on his due date. When he died, the moon shined bright outside my window each day for a month. It was a clear sign to me because his middle name is Titan (which is also a moon).

I miss him though. I miss him so much. When I think about how much I miss him, I think about how my loss wasn’t just a pregnancy loss. The day I lost TJ, I lost my newborn. I lost an entire baby. I lost my toddler. He’d be two. I lost my big boy, tween, teen, and adult son. I’ll never get to be his tooth fairy. I won’t get to witness his voice change due to puberty. I won’t witness my son get married and become a father… The moment the pregnancy test came back positive, I immediately had high hopes, dreams, prayers, and wishes for him. I added him to my living children. We named him early because we’d never imagined he wouldn’t be earthside with us. Every single time I watch my children laugh, play, reach milestones, and grow, I wish he had the chance to do those things also.

So if you know someone who has suffered a loss and took it hard, please understand that it’s not only about the loss of their baby. It’s their loss of birthday celebrations, first words, first steps, holidays, family photos, laughs, smiles, and more. That mother is grieving all stages and ages of her baby. Her angel is a newborn, toddler, teenager, and adult all in one because she still allows that child to grow in her heart. But at the same time… it’s still her baby that she yearns to hold in her arms. And because she’ll never have those moments, she is reminded of the painful moment she heard the words “I’m sorry, I can’t find a heartbeat.”

My dearest TJ. I can’t believe you’re two! I love you so much, my beautiful boy. I wish I could kiss all over you and sniff you.

Love, 

Mommy

Does The Fear Disappear After Having A Rainbow Baby?

I became pregnant 3 months after I lost my son TJ. Among other emotions and thoughts, my main thought throughout that pregnancy was to make it to the end of my pregnancy and to hold a living, healthy baby. I skipped learning the gender of my baby because I personally believe people make having a daughter a negative thing. That pregnancy was so personal to me, that I refused to have any negative conversations or thoughts surrounding it. But if I’m being honest, my anxiety and worry didn’t end once I held my son and rainbow blessing in my arms.

I had the immediate relief of “Yes. My baby is here!” I whaled when I held him in my arms and thanked God repeatedly, but a part of me still worried if it was too good to be true. I loved the sound of my son’s cry because it was an indicator that he was alive. When he slept for “too long” I worried. Why? Because when you become immersed in the pregnancy and baby loss community, your vail is removed. You learn that not all babies live after they are born. So I operated the same way I did when I was pregnant. I didn’t share many pictures of when my son was born. I didn’t talk about how he was born for a long time because I was still a little paranoid. What if I share the news of my baby’s arrival, and then I have to quickly share that he’s no longer here? But… THERAPY & GOD.

My therapist challenged me to stop my intrusive thoughts as quickly as I could. My intrusive thought would tell me “So many moms have birthed their rainbow babies who are no longer here on earth.” I would intentionally remind myself of what my reality was. “My son is here, alive, and healthy. I am grateful for his existence.”

I am very aware that everyone’s healing journey is not the same. For some women, the worry ends the moment they birth their healthy rainbow baby/babies. For me, it took me a little longer to accept that my baby wouldn’t be taken away from me again. I was still learning to trust God again. I had to take baby steps and have my support system remind me that my baby was here, alive, and well. What I appreciate the most was that my support system didn’t invalidate my feelings and tell me to “let it go, it’s not that big a deal.”

So does the fear disappear after having a rainbow baby? As with everything in life, it varies per person. Give yourself time and grace. Surround yourself with supportive loved ones and a village. Keep up with your therapy sessions so that you have help navigating motherhood after loss. Restore your faith and trust in God. Separate your fears from reality, and affirm yourself and your babies each day. By babies, I mean angel, rainbow, miracle, or whatever you deem appropriate.

I affirm that my son, Tobias, is alive and healthy. God has blessed me to hold him every day.

My son TJ,

I know that God gave you healing in heaven with him. You are safe in His arms.

Love,

Mommy…