Loss and Guilt

October 15 is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day. 

As I scrolled through my Facebook while holding the hand of our latest miracle while he fought sleep, I was amazed again at how many women have experienced the loss of the smallest babes God could give us. It altogether fills me with a sense of belonging and immense sadness for my fellow mourning moms.  Some lost babies very early on, others lost them heartbreakingly late. The common thread is the loss. The shared agony is for the ones we will never see grow up. We won't get to hold their hands as they drive us crazy NOT falling asleep. 

Fortunately, the Department of Health and Human Services has finally recognized what my fellow mothers and I already knew: life begins at conception.  Which means loss begins then, too. 

We have lost at least three babies in the last six years. Our "last" miracle snuck in and somehow survived a battery of blood tests and whacked out hormone levels and 0 folic acid and incredibly low progesterone, etc etc etc. And we are incredibly grateful. And yet I miss my "Roos" that didn't make it. Our - and I say "our" because the loss was my husband's and mine shared - our second to last loss was the most difficult thing we've gone through. God Bless my parents, again, who came over at 10:00 PM when I couldn't stand the pain of the actual miscarriage any longer and didn't have the energy or emotional strength to go through it. (Yep - that's not usually mentioned. Many times you find out you've lost the baby then have to wait days or even weeks for the physical miscarriage). 

We got to the hospital and were treated with incredible love. And God Bless the morphine. I managed three live births sans drugs (so dumb) but couldn't bear the loss of one without them. 

Life is like that. We can go through so much pain if we know there will be light/happiness/miracles eventually but when there is only darkness, we beg for the drugs to numb us. All of our losses are unique - to each individual and each pregnancy.  But the fact that there is a loss is not. 

Nearly 30% of pregnancies end in a miscarriage, usually within the first seven weeks. That number could be far from accurate since many women don't know they're pregnant until around that time.  So for some, the loss is in hindsight. For others, it becomes a roller coaster of "Yay we are pregnant" to "Holy shit. What do I do now?"  

We experienced our last two miscarriages in "real time". My suspected third was in hindsight. Then, as I was speaking to my fertility nurse, she said if I looked back at my NFP charts, I would probably find months were I had early miscarriages. I always said there was no way I wanted to do that.  Until I did. Over the past eleven years, we have experienced over a (suspected) dozen miscarriages.  The only way I knew was because we charted. 

My story is one of thousands who experience the loss of a baby or many in their lifetimes.  My heart broke as I read one friend's post where she ended it with hashtags, one being #itsme. I wanted to reach out immediately and reassure her that it wasn't because of her and that we can't explain why these losses happen and things will be okay and all the other cliches that people wear out in moments like that.  

Then I stopped. 

Because it was her. And it is me. And it is you. We are the carriers of life so when that life is lost, it is nearly impossible to look anywhere else for an explanation other than #itsme. 

And no cliche comfort or emoticon on social media will dissuade that motherly guilt we will carry for the rest of our lives. 

Because for whatever reason - God asked us to carry that guilt instead of that life. 

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Pet Peeve Nine Hundred and Thirty Two:  When your kid holds a big fat mirror to your face and basically says, "See here. You really fucked up right there in that moment."

Yep - that happened today.  More on that later.

Social media has brought all of our best moments to the forefront of our lives.  However, the danger in that is that people who scroll Facebook feeds and Snapchat stories tend to trick their brains into thinking that those are the real story.

This doesn't just happen in the minds of our teens.  It happens in any person who uses the apps and feels tinges of jealousy or finding themselves wanting a slightly different version of their own life.  I've done it.  The smiling kids on vacation or the mom-time by herself with cocktail in hand or the couple celebrating their anniversary in a kick-ass way...all moments where I've caught myself mid-sigh.

The danger is that Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, etc all filter out the other necessities of life.  It's absolutely necessary to celebrate the Good in life.  Otherwise, every time a memory comes into our feed, we would fall further into a pit of despair.  However, those other two cannot be ignored...they are necessary as well.

Back to that mirror held by the nine-year-old.  Our son was in a super special mood this morning and being a stinker.  He had a talking-to after church but was still in a funk.  Hubby and I decided maybe we need to have an honest conversation with him.  I told him to let us know what was bothering him and we wouldn't get mad.  It could be with himself or the family unit - whatever.  I was thinking he would say something like "We didn't get to stay at the cabin" or "We only went to Silverwood once."  One of his usual complaints.  Instead we got the mirror: "I really don't understand why you and dad have to cuss so much."

Shit.

Fucking shit.

I mean...I don't know why I cuss either.  I lecture my students all the time about it and how important word choice is, etc, etc.  It was completely embarrassing to be called to the carpet by the prepubescent boy who has probably heard more cuss words from his mother than the high school locker room.

So I decided I would be more conscious of it.  A cuss-cup won't work since I never have spare change and neither will soap in the mouth.  However, a rubber band around the wrist might do the trick so that's where we sit.

The Good?  We took him to church.

The Bad?  Moodiness and yelling and scolding shortly after church.

The Ugly?  Those damn cuss words.  *snap*

Why do I share this?  Because it's important.  Because moms and dads need to know that they are not alone in their battles with the beings that claim to be our children (most of the time).  Because life is hard enough and battling imaginary filtered pictures on the internet is not a fair fight.  Because I'm tired of thinking my life is so difficult when I know there are others out there in much tougher situations but feel they have to filter it.

So I encourage all of you to post, at least once this week, an Ugly or a Bad moment.  Post without shame and post without fear of judgement.  Because we've all been that mom in the middle of Target pulling the shit from the dollar rack and handing out the iPhones like it's crack in the 80s to avoid the meltdown at. all. costs.

So bust out the Ugly and the Bad with some Good mixed in.  Then suck down a nice cocktail.  You've earned it.