I wrote this one week after I lost my baby. Three weeks later and I am finally ready to hit publish. 

This time last week I was pregnant, excited and beyond happy to be adding another member to our family. Today, I am sitting in my office, which I was starting to envision the nursery, trying to continue on with everyday life.

On December 10th, 2015 I suffered the loss of my baby. It’s something that doctors have shared statistically happens to 1 out of 6 women. I am a statistic. I am devastated, scared, sad and confused. Knowing that this has and will continue to happen to many women helps  a little but I also know that I can’t just pretend the feelings I am having are not real. I feel empty and not like myself at all. Also, for a control freak such as myself, this has my head spinning because there is pretty much not one thing about this I can or could have controlled.

The ironic thing is that I have been trying to restart blogging for quite some time but was sort of waiting to write about something that really moved me. Never did I ever think it would be my own miscarriage. I replay that day over and over and over…I replay the last 8 weeks over and over. What could I have done differently? Maybe I should not have had that 1/2 to 1 cup of coffee each morning. I find that not many people talk about miscarriage and I refuse to do that for a few reasons, one because I am an open book, two because I don’t know any other way to grieve and three because I refuse to let my baby be a secret and something that never happened. 8 weeks, 36 weeks, newborn, whatever, the loss of my child is real and painful.

One minute I want to sit here and cry and just go to bed, the next I am ready to tackle the next item on my to do list. Completely and totally out of sorts and all at the same time feeling so empty inside. But, life does have to go on. I understand that. I know it deep down and I want to keep pushing for so many obvious reasons. I thought I would come here and run through each horrible detail of that day. The way I felt when I saw the ultrasound and just knew in my gut the outcome would not be good. The way 20 minutes in a waiting room for a doctor felt like three days and how the words “your baby has no heartbeat” quite literally felt like someone punched me in the gut and then ripped out my heart. I honestly should have known this would hurt so bad, I am already a mom. I loved and protected my baby for 8 weeks and now just like that he/she was completely gone.

Leaving the appointment, I had decisions to make and then a couple hours later, I walked right into labor and delivery for a procedure that would make this all real. One word to the docs, if at all possible, maybe consider doing these procedures somewhere other than labor and delivery. It is pure torture having to walk into that place knowing you will not be leaving with your baby.

So, here we are, another day past one of the hardest days in my life and here I am trying to handle each emotion one minute at a time. I am writing this for myself as a way to grieve but, eventually when I hit publish, for any other woman out there who has gone through or might go through this. It is not easy but know you are not alone. Today, that is enough to help get me through. As a complete aside, I have a friend who I met through an association in a previous job…she wrote about her miscarriage and published it shortly after I learned I was pregnant. I told her I remember thinking at the time how brave she was and now I know exactly (for the most part) what she was and is going through. I reached out to her yesterday and it was her conversation that got me through the day.

I am going to end this post focusing on some of the positives. There is no way I can thank my family, friends and coworkers for the outpouring of love and support they have given me and John during this time. From just being there with me, coming over to give me a hlistening to me cry one minute and go to Target the next to bringing us dinner so we had one less thing to focus on. Seriously, I am not sure how anyone would get through this without support. Speaking of, someone I haven’t talked about yet, my husband John.

John – You are my rock. You have been letting me feel how and what I need to feel and reassuring me that I can take as long as I need and want to get through this. Reminding me that we will never forget our baby but also in your way, focusing on the positive that we still have our beautiful Reagan and the chance to try again in the future. I am not sure I have been there for you as I know you are grieving in your own way but you are truly the most amazing and strong man I have known. I am so lucky to have you. Keeping things moving at our house when I just cannot seem to function enough to wash a dish or give Reagan a bath while experiencing pain and hurt yourself. It is admirable. You also have been there for me in the good times, excited for each doctor’s appointment and even glowingly positive on the day we got the bad news. Thank you. Those two words will never be enough to tell you that I would not be able to move on through this without you.

I have many people to thank and could go on forever with this post. For now, I am going to take it minute by minute, letting myself grieve as I need to. I know each day I will get a bit stronger and there will be some random days, even far into the future that I will break down. I will also remember my baby, even the short time we had together, and celebrate that time, too. God willing, I will have another chance to bring a beautiful life into this world. For now, I am trying to wrap my head around what this all means. So, please, bare with me as I do.