Struggling with Those Two Little Lines
The onesie we excitedly bought to celebrate our successful IUI to get pregnant with Calvin.
My period returning after Calvin’s birth was equal parts comforting and traumatic. It was that way with each step of recovery from birth. I was comforted by the fact that my body was healing correctly but terrified that my body was physically “moving on” from my time with Calvin. First it was my milk coming in and drying up, then the bleeding stopped, and the stitches fell out. Each new step of recovery pushed me further away from the pregnancy. My cycle starting up felt like that final terrifying step.
What I learned from my miscarriage and stillbirth is people are obsessed with “trying again” and that’s no different for the ones experiencing the loss. Your mind becomes consumed with how, when, if you should even dare to go through it again. After my miscarriage, I knew I wanted to try again immediately. It seemed like a no brainer. We want to raise a baby. Our twins passed from a terrible one in a million chance that had nothing to do with my genetics. One in four pregnancies end in miscarriage. I became obsessed with having my “rainbow baby.” I searched Pinterest for all ideas rainbow and cheered when I got my period. I think I announced it to everyone in the family and more! Even though I was devastated from losing my sons, I needed the goal of getting pregnant again. It felt like a chapter in our grand story. Truthfully, getting pregnant again didn’t stop the pain. I was terrified of losing Calvin and had to be talked into announcing the pregnancy. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop and mourned the twin’s due date. I still cried over all the things I missed with them and to this day I struggle when I see twins. Calvin’s pregnancy, especially as I got further along, was the hope we were missing at the time.
Unexpectedly losing my “rainbow baby” at full term to a different one in a million chance had a different impact. I was forced to consider the possibility of future children as I planned how to deliver but my thought process changed compared to my miscarriage. Maybe it was suddenly coming to terms with the fact that rainbows are not guaranteed. I thought I had my happy ending, my baby who made enduring infertility and miscarriage all worth it, when it was suddenly ripped out from under me. It went from “trying again” to “trying for more children.” I didn’t need to try again. We went nine months, we reached what we thought was the finish line. It just turned out that the finish line was moved. You can make it nine months, fill your home with all the baby items you need and still not take home a baby. Losing Calvin didn’t diminish how badly I wanted more children. We never planned to stop after Calvin to begin with, but I was tired. We fought to get pregnant, and I spent almost the entirety of a year being pregnant, went through two first trimesters sick as a dog. Grief was consuming us and just wanted to get my feet back on the ground. I needed stability.
“ It went from “trying again” to “trying for more children.” I didn’t need to try again. We went nine months, we reached what we thought was the finish line. It just turned out that the finish line was moved. You can make it nine months, fill your home with all the baby items you need and still not take home a baby. ”
I decided to wait before having more children. I didn’t give a time frame, but rather goals. I wanted to get into better shape, lose some weight, start working, help Charleigh make progress in therapy. All these things so I could fully enjoy the next time I got pregnant. Truth be told, the list of goals before trying probably would have kept getting longer. The thought of going through pregnancy again was terrifying. I know some women enjoy pregnancy and I applaud loudly for them. You would think I would be one of them! My pregnancy with Charleigh was filled with stress and mayhem and I never got to enjoy her newborn stage because she was in and out of the hospital. I was sick as a dog with the twins. I was overweight and out of shape with Calvin because I was terrified to do anything wrong. I had a subchorionic hematoma the first trimester, and a placenta dangerously close to my cervix and attached to my cesarean scar during the second trimester. By the time the third trimester came around it was too difficult to get active. My back and pelvis hurt horribly, I was anemic, had low blood pressure, and fought migraines. I, of course, love the kicks and learning to interact with my baby in the womb. I learned so much about Calvin’s personality by singing to him and playing with him. They’re the only memories I will have of him, but it doesn’t change the fact that pregnancy is HARD! It’s okay, even as a mom of angels, to admit that.
The digital pregnancy test my best friend drove me to the store to get. Something about seeing the words “pregnant” made it more of a reality. The picture is blurry because of how shaky my hands were.
My second period never came. I tried playing it cool, but it was obvious to everyone that I was panicking. Family was over but I snuck away to buy a pregnancy test. The moment everyone left, I made excuses to get home. I mumbled some excuse for Jack to get Charleigh in the house and flew into the bathroom, ripping open the package. I stared down that pee-soaked stick until those two lines popped up. I wish I could say I jumped up and down and squealed like the happiest person on earth. Instead, I laughed. I was in total shock and had no clue how to process everything I was feeling. I texted Jack to come in the bathroom without Charleigh noticing. When he saw the pregnancy test, he truly tried to hide his excitement. He asked how I felt but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. I believe my exact words were “You’re too happy. I need a female who understands how daunting it is to be pregnant again.” I anxiously messaged my rockstar midwife in a panic. Every fear of anything I had done in the past two weeks flooded out of me. I had been dieting, exercising hard, I started a new medication, it was too soon since giving birth. She talked me off the ledge enough to rush off to my best friend’s house while Jack distracted Charleigh. Talking to her, we were teary eyed and laughing the entire time. The whole situation felt absurd. She even rushed me to Acme for a digital test, reassuring me seeing the word “pregnant” would make it feel more real.
I didn’t tell anyone else right away. I lied to my mom and just about everyone else around me. I tried to hide how horribly sick I was and panicked when everyone talked about going on vacation together. Part of me didn’t believe I was pregnant. Even with all my searches on Google, I was convinced there was left over HCG somehow in my system. Once it was confirmed by multiple blood draws, reality started to sink in, but I still didn’t know how to feel. I knew I had to process it and understand my own feelings before sharing the news and handling to emotions of those around me. After four blood draws confirming my numbers were doing what they were supposed to, I finally started to feel some excitement. I remember telling Jack “I’m finally getting a little excited.” He nearly burst out of his skin, finally being able to gush with me over having a baby. I thanked him for trying to hide his excitement while I processed, even if he didn’t do a very good job of it.
I tried to look for neat ways to tell everyone but everything that discussed a rainbow baby made me angry. Again, after my miscarriage, I loved the term rainbow baby. It made sense, after loss and difficult times you get a rainbow. After losing Calvin, my original rainbow, I struggled with it. I think there is a strange protectiveness and need to validate my son’s existence. Whenever I thought about the term, I wanted to retort “My son was not a storm! He is a baby and my child, no matter where he is.” Then suddenly, I changed my way of thinking. Why is a storm a bad thing? Yes, they can cause chaos and destruction, but that shows how powerful they are. The pain and destruction lead to an opportunity to rebuild. When you rebuild, you can provide a stronger foundation. Storms bring communities together and can impact the entire world. My son was not a storm, but stillbirth is. It destroyed everything we thought was true in the world. It tore away our naivety and our false sense of security. Left shaken to our core, we cried enough tears to flood the earth. With our future and our plans broken down, we were able to take stock of our lives. Our marriage and relationships became stronger as well as our purpose for living. We were shown how many people are there for us and even forged new relationships. We became a member of the stillbirth community, which introduced me to so many stories of strong powerful people and their beautiful babies. Our son’s story impacted so many around us and was heard by people around the world.
“Whenever I thought about the term, I wanted to retort “My son was not a storm! He is a baby and my child, no matter where he is.” Then suddenly, I changed my way of thinking. Why is a storm a bad thing? Yes, they can cause chaos and destruction, but that shows how powerful they are. The pain and destruction lead to an opportunity to rebuild. When you rebuild, you can provide a stronger foundation. Storms bring communities together and can impact the entire world. My son was not a storm, but stillbirth is. It destroyed everything we thought was true in the world. It tore away our naivety and our false sense of security. Left shaken to our core, we cried enough tears to flood the earth. ”
When you shop for anything rainbow baby, so many say things like “Don’t worry mom, the storm is over!” Does the rain ever stop? No. Those onesies are wrong. Some days the rain comes down harder than others. Unless you’ve been through loss, it’s easy to think a new baby takes away the rain. Joy and hope don’t wash away pain. Our pain is still very much there. Going through pregnancy again is a constant trigger of what happened. When our next son is born, each milestone will be a bittersweet reminder of what we missed with Calvin. Our grief is forever intermingled in all aspects of our life, even the happiest moments. If anything, being pregnant while still processing the loss of Calvin makes it more complicated.
Other items say, “After every storm comes a rainbow.” I used to believe this too, but the fact of the matter is with loss there is no guaranteed rainbow baby. Losing my first rainbow taught me that. I learned this further by listening to the amazing women in the infertility and pregnancy loss communities. So many women experience loss, and more than you expect experience multiple losses. Some women chose not to get pregnant again after loss. I know how hurtful it is to wonder why your rainbow was taken away and I know how hard it is to feel like you will never get your rainbow.
I’m finally happy and excited for this baby. I still experience intense moments of grief, confusion, anxiety, and so much more. We know moms are great at feeling guilty for everything. I struggled with feeling guilty being excited about our new baby because I felt like I was betraying Calvin. There is no logical sense because I know our beautiful boy would want us to be happy. I truly believe Calvin sent us this rainbow. On the other hand, I felt guilty when I wasn’t excited or over the moon happy about this pregnancy. How can someone who has been through what I have, take for granted the joy of pregnancy? I had to learn what I’m feeling is okay. “And” sentences are extremely important. I can love Calvin and this baby. I can grieve Calvin and be excited about having another baby. I can be excited to watch Char be a big sister and recognize she has been a big sister to angel babies long before an earth side baby. I can be thrilled about having a baby and not enjoy pregnancy. Whatever we need to feel is okay and normal.