“I keep myself busy with the things I do, but every time I pause, I still think of you.”

It was one of those mornings when I woke up today. My heart felt heavy, and my body felt weak. It’s like I could cry at any minute with no warning. I feel as though I have been gaining strength during this grieving process, and then BAM, out of nowhere, I’m back to feeling lost and empty and confused.

I write to my Peanut often. The journal lays next to my bed with many words of hurt and sadness filling it. I picked it up and turned straight to the entry speaking about the day I found out I was pregnant, April 15, 2016. My heart stopped as I remembered that day. The heartbreak and the fear and the anxiety.

7/13/16 @ 11:09 p.m.

Peanut,

I just came across the THREE pregnancy tests I took the day I found out I was carrying you. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was so scared. I didn’t know if I could be the mom you needed at such a young age. Was I ready to give up my life? Would my parents kill me? All of those fears don’t even compare to the moment I found out you wouldn’t survive. The moment I found out I was losing you. Just know, Peanut, that I would’ve given up everything to hear you call me mom, to take away your sickness, to give you life. Some days I feel as though I am barely functioning without you. I was so looking forward to feeling you move inside of me. There is a hole in my heart that only the thought and memory of you can fill. Mommy and Daddy love and miss you so much. Even if the days get easier, the thought of you never fades. I love you, Peanut. I always will.

Mom

The story of when I took the first pregnancy test is actually pretty hysterical, but I’ll save that for another time.

I found out I was pregnant during a rough time. I wasn’t married or engaged, I hadn’t graduated and I was only 21 years old. I actually thought telling everyone I was pregnant was rough.

Nothing prepared me for telling everyone I wasn’t pregnant. I kicked myself for sharing the pregnancy announcement on social media. All I could think was, “now I’ve let everyone down”. I told my mom I would never tell anyone about our next baby until I know FOR SURE that everything is okay, but I think I lied. I don’t think I’ll wait next time. I don’t think anyone should wait to share until the second trimester “in case something is wrong”. Why? Because I am SO thankful to have the opportunity to speak with friends and moms and strangers and teachers. I don’t have to hide what happened. I was pregnant, and then I was not. So what? Each of those announcements garnered so much support, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

My heart wonders what the next pregnancy will be like. Will I have anxiety? Will the baby be healthy? Will it be in five months or five years? The one thing I don’t wonder is if I will share the news or not. I will. I will shout it from the rooftops. I will post it on social media. I will call each of my friends. I won’t be scared about their reaction or the chance of miscarriage. A life is a life is a life. Whether it be 5 weeks or 12 weeks or 17 weeks.

“Once you are real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.” – Margery Williams

I encourage all of you who may be pregnant to share the news. You are going to want everyone to know your child is real whether the little one lives outside of the womb or not.

I encourage all of you who may have hidden your miscarriage to share it with the world. Support is a real thing, and I wouldn’t be where I am without it.

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