“Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms. She is breathing, but she is dying. She may look young, but inside she has become ancient. She smiles, but her heart sobs. She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she is, but she is not, all at once. She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.” -Unknown
It has been almost four weeks since I found out that my first baby had hydrops. It has been almost four weeks since my world started to unravel. June 30, 2016 was a mess of tears, runny mascara, heartbreak and questions. First it was “why me?”, then it was “how did this happen?”, “can we fix it?”, and “how do I get past this?”. No one teaches you how to handle grief. There isn’t a course in college that helps you handle losing your first baby. July 7, 2016 will forever be a day that fills my heart with sadness. It is the day I said goodbye to my first child.
What happens after you lose a child – one your heart had so badly desired and loved? Everything happens and then nothing happens at all. The week of June 30 was full of tests and questions and appointments and phone calls and text messages and cards and hugs. The week of July 7 was full of letting go and being strong and remembering and counseling and crying and more phone calls and more text messages. The week of July 14 was full of happiness and guilt and anger and excitement/fear of the future and anxiety and more crying and more counseling.
But this week, the week of July 21, has been filled with anger at everyone for thinking I’m okay. But it’s no one’s fault. I’m the one smiling, carrying on, planning a wedding and laughing with friends and family. I’m the one trying to push away the pain that happens after you lose a baby you love. It’s the rawness of a midnight fit of bawling that no one sees. It’s the slamming of doors, yelling at the love of my life who is just trying to tell me everything is okay and throwing anger at my family members (especially my sister and mom who have taken care of me every step of the way).
So, what happens after you lose a child? Everything – you scream, cry, cuss, hate, love, and laugh. You avoid aisles full of baby clothes, scroll quickly past pictures of babies and belly bumps on social media, and go out of the way to make sure you don’t stand too close to a pregnant woman or a newborn child. You go out with friends, have drinks, plan a wedding and go on vacations. You imagine what would have been on December 16 (our peanut’s due date) had you had a healthy child. You start thinking about the next pregnancy and how badly you want to have a normal baby that is here on Earth with you. You wonder if you’ll ever trust your body again. You think about how far along you would be and what the baby would have felt like moving around. Nothing – The world keeps moving. Everyone carries on. There is no life growing inside of you. There is nothing to plan for on December 16. There is nothing to show for the precious life you lost besides ultrasound images, a heartbeat teddy bear, cremations and the hand/foot prints given to you. There is no baby laughter, dirty diapers or tiny feet.
But, I keep moving. I keep growing. I keep loving and laughing and hoping and praying. God has a plan. My parents are paying for the most beautiful wedding, my fiancé is encouraging me to have patience every step of the way and I have a wonderful support system that has continued to show me grace and love. What happens after the loss of a child may be messy and hard, but it is humbling. So, thank you to each of you that have held my hand throughout this grieving process. It is nowhere close to being over, but it is easier each and every day.
“We were going to have a baby, but we had an Angel instead.”
You are a very brave, strong,and amazing person. I love you, I’ll see you soon 😘
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I love you too!
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I love you with every part of who I am. I’m very proud of the strong, courageous yet vulnerable and real young woman you have become. I was blessed to hold you as my first child years ago and I cannot even begin to imagine your pain. All of us want to make it better but know that nothing we can do or say will accomplish that. We, however, all love you very much and will continue to ride this emotional roller coaster with you standing by to pick you up, hold you, laugh when you are, cry with you and slowly move forward hoping that time lessens your pain and that eventually the birth of your healthy baby…one you wouldn’t have without losing this one…gives a greater understanding to God’s plan for your future. You are my world Tilda. My prayer each day is for you to find peace.
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Thank you, Mom. I love you more than I can even describe. I am so blessed to have you continually holding me up.
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I love you Madi!
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I love you too!
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It will get better. The pain lessens in time. I have lost 3 children before I conceived my daughter. I asked myself those very same questions. God has a plan for each of us. We may not understand it now but in time he will reveal his plan and it will be better then the plans you made for yourself. Stay strong and keep moving forward.
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I lost my baby “miscarriage” July 22 2016…that day truly changed my life cause I was planning…I was happy…I was nervous…but every appointment was “there’s no heartbeat” that’s when I started getting scared but I kept hearing “oh that happens just wait till the next appointment” right until I ended up in the hospital July 22…I still don’t know how to handle this pain…I had someone tell me…well you was only 6 weeks….I’m like wether I was 6 weeks it doesn’t matter cause I was still pregnant I saw the ultrasound but no heartbeat…I’m truly upset hurt confused on why did this happened…I cry…I can’t sleep…I can’t focus on anything. So my deepest sympathy goes out to you and your family
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I am so sorry for your loss. It doesn’t matter how far along you were. A loss is a loss is a loss. The pain will lessen, but you will always be a mom. You will be in my thoughts and prayers. I hope this post gave you some kind of relief.
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Thank you so much for sharing. Beautifully written. Know we all love you. I wish I could take away the pain, just know that when you laugh,get angry, and cry, all who love you….laugh, get angry,and cry with you. Love and prayers.
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I feel your pain, i loved a child for 47 years, and now he is with God, that’s a hard pain too, but, we can never question our God, how can we!
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Exactly! It is all in a plan, thankfully. I am so sorry for you loss.
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Prayers for you! Your words were beautiful and so is your strength!
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Crazy how God works…but I was driving back home to Lbk today and I was thinking man, my kid would be 9 this month…July 7th was the due date. Just know I grieve that day with you. And every Mother’s day…I didn’t get out of bed on that day until a good five years later. So interesting how I was led to this blog post today of all days.
I admire your boldness. Thank you for being a voice for us and our angel babies.
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Thank you for your kind words. God works in mysterious ways. Much love. ❤️
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I also lost my baby this July. I was due Christmas day. I was 16 weeks. When I found out my little Wyatt passed away. Unfortunately that is my fourth loss. I have one living child it never gets easier. This is the first time I was able to find out the sex of one of my lost babies. Each day you will think about your angel and miss them. It will never get better. But somehow you will make it through each day. I’m sorry for your loss.
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Thank you, Nicole. I am so sorry for your losses. You will be in my thoughts and prayers. Hold on to your Earth baby tightly. One day you will be able to hold your angels too.
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My heart aches with you & for you. I also lost my first baby in late 2011 & my third baby in 2013. Wow, I can’t believe it’s been almost 5 & 3 years. The pain & emptiness & loss remains, but it has become easier to talk about. In fact, I love when I get the opportunity to talk about their lives – no matter how brief they were. I don’t understand why this happens. I don’t have any answers. The only thing I can cling to is that my God has remained faithful & good through it all. I would not have understood the goodness of Christ to this depth had I not gone through loss. I now have 3 healthy, beautiful babies. But I almost always say I have 5. Because I do.
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I am so sorry for your losses. Each baby is so special, and you are connected to them in a way no one will ever understand. Isn’t our God amazing? Our babies were just too beautiful for Earth. ❤
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