Friday, March 13, 2015

I hate miscarriage.

8 years ago today, we welcomed Ben.  What a miracle.


Today is my little boy's 8th birthday, and I am trying to be cheerful.

I found out last night that a friend is having a second trimester miscarriage... or maybe a premature delivery... not sure what the right thing to say is... she is in the hospital right now.  A person I know through RCA had the same thing happen this week.  And another Catholic mama in my circle, K, laid her baby to rest this month too.

I just hate miscarriage.  There is no more eloquent way to say it.

Mine was over a year ago.  After five healthy babies, I lost one for the first time.  When I realized what was happening and saw the blood, I started screaming.  I just lost my mind.  I already loved Blaise, and could not bear to know I would never get to raise him and be his mama.  My kids would never play with him.  His life was over before he got to live.

I have gotten better over the last year... especially in the last 6 months.  But it never goes away.  And the sounds that came out of my body... pure, unabashed grief and loss... are still echoing in my ears.

Thinking of my sweet friend going through that right now, I just can't... no words can describe.  I can't stop crying.  We prayed for her baby, and after some scary times in the beginning, I thought this baby would be okay.  I can't begin to describe the hurt and pain, and I am so far on the periphery.

Praying for peace and acceptance.  He gives and takes away.

I don't know that I will ever be brave enough to try again.  To my friends who have said goodbye more than once, I can't put into words how much respect I have for you for still standing.  I feel like it would break my spirit.  Just once for me, and I still feel broken.