You Brave and Beautiful Soul,
I want to tell you, Congratulations. This might be a word that you feel doesn’t belong to you, but let me tell you, it does. Congratulations on getting pregnant. That is no small feat for some, especially with the havoc grief can wreak on your hormones. Congratulations for having the tenacity to try again. Here you are- on the path you were so cruelly and unfairly thrust off of in the past- and you’re doing it. You’re doing it! Not to mention, you’ve somehow managed to open this book to find some support, so good for you. Pregnancy after loss is beyond challenging, and sometimes we have to disconnect in the name of self-preservation. But I think if you have picked up this book, you have already taken a really incredible step towards managing to engage in some self-care during this pregnancy. For that, you should be applauded. So bravo! So many people in our lives can’t begin to understand the depth of anxiety, stress, and fear that comes along with pregnancy after loss. Managing the response to trauma is a full-time job in itself, never mind finding the courage to take care of this new baby by taking care of yourself. I was so angry at my body for so long. Our first child, Mathilda died shortly before she was born at 40 weeks. Then, cruelly, we struggled with infertility. It was salt in the wound that our only baby died and then we weren’t sure if we’d be able to conceive again. After infertility treatment we were able to get pregnant, which was incredible, but it was so hard to shift my way of thinking. I now had to try and take care of this body that had let me down. This body I had been basically ignoring until then. We managed to go on to have a living child and I was so proud of myself- I got through it and we came out the other side with a beautiful baby girl. I could breathe again. Then, when she was just 8 days old, we were rushed to Boston Children’s Hospital because of an undiagnosed critical coarctation of her aorta that required life-saving emergency surgery. Thankfully she survived and is now thriving, but in those moments I couldn’t help but blame myself, my body. When we decided that we would regret not trying to give her a living sibling and that we were willing to try again- it was another struggle with continued infertility. I had to take care of myself, almost in spite of myself. I had to just force myself to believe that I could have a healthy living baby- one that could be born alive and not need a life-saving surgery to survive. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I also tried to enjoy what I could of that third pregnancy because I knew I would never want to do it again. Enjoy is not the right word- maybe find moments of being truly present? Savor some things so that I could remember the details when (and at the time ‘if’) my child one day asked me about it. I was someone who had to constantly use precursors like ‘hopefully’ and ‘if’ instead of ‘when’. Once I stopped apologizing for it and embraced the fact that I needed these precursors, I felt a little better. That is what I needed to take care of myself. I didn’t want to jinx anything (as if that’s possible). And it’s okay if you can’t go all-in on the possibility of a living baby being placed in your aching arms- but if you are able to believe it, even just for some of the time, don’t give yourself guilt for it. It’s all hard enough. I guess what I’m trying to say is, give yourself permission to handle this pregnancy in whatever way you need to. However feels best to think about (or not think about) this sweet baby that you so desperately want is truly up to you. Don’t let anyone else tell you how you should feel; because you are the only person who can know what it is to take this leap of faith and trust your body again, a body that you may feel betrayed you in the past. I wish I could tell you that everything will be okay and that lightning never strikes twice, or some other platitude that I am sure has been thrown your way, but we all know that isn’t true and no one can guarantee anything in this life- we loss parents know that better than anyone. What I can say is that you’re doing it! I also want to remind you that there is room for all of your emotions- you can feel joy and anticipation while experiencing deep fear and dread. We are complicated creatures, capable of feeling all of these things- often at the same time- so allow these feelings to come. I have found that acknowledging them and giving them some space will serve you far better than trying to ignore them or feel guilty for having them. Life will always be bittersweet. Their absence is relentless. I can say that you will get better at carrying that weight. I am sure you are better at it now than you were the day after your life changed forever. The same is true of having a living child. You will figure out how to negotiate all the milestones, the lost sibling experiences, not being able to parent all of your children together in the same physical space- you will figure out what works best for you and it will continue to change and grow as you and your beautiful family do. I am proud of you. You are doing it. I am quietly in your corner rooting for you- along with all of the other bereaved parents. On days where you feel like it’s all too heavy, remember that we are here. Feel our vibrations of love and well wishes in the air around you. Breathe it in and let the courage inside of you grown just a little bit stronger. Let that love bloom inside of your heart and take it one moment at a time. You’re doing it! In love and solidarity, Darcie Mama to Mathilda (Born Still March 4th, 2016), Winslow, and Hugo
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April 2018
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