Grief is a tricky
thing. It often has a mind of its own and works mysteriously, appearing to be
more mischievous than anything at times. It can hit you hard and all at once;
it can fester just below the surface, close enough to creep up and rear its
ugly head in moments you let your guard down; or it can be stuffed down deep,
hidden from anyone to see, tucked away in a place almost as though you've
locked it up with a key. I thought I was ready to take on this significant day
in good stride. But once again grief showed me who's boss. I woke up this
morning feeling like a heavy weight had been dropped on my chest. Right over my
heart. I literally felt like my heart hurt and I was not ready to get up and
start the day. I would never choose to start the day cranky and angry, but I've
learned I must accept these feelings and let them wash over me in order to get
passed them, and in hopes to find peace once again. Today it's been one year
since we lost our baby girl, Elle Jay, and this is the story surrounding her short-lived but largely-loved life.
My husband
Jason and I got married in August of 2015. We both wanted kids and being that
he’s a few years older than me, we had a “we’re not getting any younger”
mentality about it; so we stopped using forms of birth control the month we
were married and decided ‘let’s just see what happens.’ Life got busy, six
months flew by, and without making calculated attempts, I found myself “late”
and then pregnant, much to my surprise. I really couldn’t believe it at first.
I remember thinking I didn’t “feel” pregnant, not that I even knew any specific
feelings you’re supposed to have that soon. Not completely trusting the at-home
tests, I even made an appointment with my primary doctor to get tested and hear
the official words from her that yes, I was pregnant.
So here I am
pregnant, a little bit shocked and very excited, of course, but also nervous of
what could happen. I was always trying to keep myself in check until we reached
what I called the “safe zone”, also known as the second trimester. I didn’t
know as much then how truly common miscarriages are, but I had an inkling that
it could happen early on and I wanted to prepare myself for the possibility of
it, as if somehow knowing it could happen would it make it less hard if it did
happen (which I realize now is so NOT the case).
I started
telling immediate family and a couple of my closest friends when I was only
about 6 weeks along, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hide it—I’m a horrible
liar—plus we were excited! I also made them all swear they wouldn’t tell anyone
until I made an announcement, and I knew it was too early for that. By the 9-10
week mark it was becoming harder and harder to keep it a secret though, between
morning (all-day, really) sickness, two upcoming bachelorette party trips I’d committed
to in Florida and Nashville, and even my quickly-approaching 30th
birthday. It was getting difficult to pretend to drink at parties and
apparently I wasn’t doing a very good job of disguising it. So usually when it
became awkward or obvious that I was totally sober in instances everyone else
was drinking, I told those around me the truth and everyone was always so sweet
and excited for me.
By mid-May, I was 3 months in; I’d had 2 ultrasounds that were perfectly normal, and I’d been tested for chromosomal disorders that came back normal as well—which had also allowed us to find out the sex of our baby…a GIRL!! It was finally starting to become more real that this was really happening and I was starting to feel more safe and secure. By this point I had bought the book What to Expect When You’re Expecting and started filling out a pregnancy book, tracking everything happening to me and our growing baby girl.
Once I passed
the 14-week mark, I felt it was safe we put out an announcement we were
expecting via social media, relieved to finally share the news with extended
family and friends. The news was well received of course, and things were
looking up. The morning sickness had subsided once I got into the second
trimester and I was feeling like a pretty normal human being again.
Fast forward 3
weeks. Jason and I have a stupid fight one night about something I can’t even
remember now, and he leaves for his weekly soccer game; we’re both not in a
great place. Something I regret to this day. I went and grabbed crappy
Mediterranean food from down the street and met up with an old friend who
needed help for a bit. Later that night we worked out our little quarrel and
went to bed.
The next
morning I’m woken up extra early to abdominal pain and an upset stomach. At
first I’m thinking it’s gas cramps and/or something I ate making me sick (like
that crappy Mediterranean), so I let my work know I’ll be coming in late and I
get back in bed to rest. Every hour that passed that morning, though, the pain
became worse and soon I notice a spot of blood when I’m in the bathroom. The
blood concerns me but at this point I’m convinced I’m just really sick with
some sort of flu or maybe food poisoning. By this point, my husband had already
left for work and I’ve tried calling the OBGYN’s office, only to get their
machine, because they aren’t open yet. Two hours in, the cramps and pain have
continued becoming more intense. The next trip to the bathroom I see a lot more
blood and I become immediately alarmed. So I call the emergency number at the
office and they page the OBGYN on call. A quick conversation on the phone with
him and he tells me not to panic, that this could be normal but I should come
in to get checked out, so I set up an appointment. Within the next hour, the pain
has gotten so unbearable that I can barely move from the bathroom and I’ve
started throwing up on top of it all. I’m pretty much terrified now, sick with
worry, and my husband rushes home because I’m not in any shape to drive myself
to the doctor.
The
whole way to the doctor I'm crippled over in pain, and while stepping into the
elevator, I feel a rush of fluid start running down my legs. My husband and I
see blood and he runs ahead to the doctor's office to alert them of what’s
happening while I slowly make my way there. They rush me into a room and check
the baby and tell me she's still alive but I need to go right to the hospital,
which is luckily connected to their building. After being wheeled into the
delivery wing and poked and prodded by a number of doctors/nurses/attending
physicians, I find out all morning the pain I was having were contractions and
that the rush of fluid was my water breaking. This meant my body was preparing
to go into labor...way too soon. And since my water broke, there was no longer
anything protecting our baby, and no way to reverse that. They gave us a few
horrible options of how to proceed, none of which I wanted to hear. Since it
was a Catholic Hospital, they couldn't do anything to move the process along
because that could potentially harm the baby, even though they told me there
was no way she could survive outside the womb at this stage. The only way
they could act was if my own health became in danger. She was still alive, but
it was only a matter of time. So we waited. At this point I don’t think I
was ready to face the hard facts of what this all meant. It was as if my mind
went into cruise control, not ready to let my heart accept we were
going to lose her.
They
monitored me and our baby closely and checked on us all throughout the night.
The last time I remember the nurse coming in to check, our sweet little girl
still had a heartbeat.
Early
the next morning I delivered her on my own. Jason called the nurses in, but by
the time they cut the cord and got ahold of her she no longer had a heartbeat.
We decided to name her Elle Jay, since “LJ” had been her nickname when she was
in my belly. The nurses cleaned her up so we could hold her and say our
goodbyes. Shortly after they put me under for a D&C procedure to retrieve
the placenta. And a bit later a gentleman from a funeral home nearby came in to discuss end of life options and services for Elle Jay.
Needless
to say, it was an awful, traumatic experience. Running back through it now I
still can't believe all of that actually happened to us, and that it’s been a
whole year since it did.
In
the beginning, I was in shock. I don’t think my brain was ready to process what
happened. It felt like it had been an out-of-body experience; it couldn’t have
really happened to me. I tried my best to get back to life as usual. To find a
new normal. I think I got so focused on moving forward for a while that I was
subconsciously trying to block all my feelings out. But, living as if it didn't
happen could only keep the pain at bay for so long. Eventually it caught up
with me.
And
then for some time the pain was unavoidable and overwhelming. At that point I
tried to face the grief head on, the best I could and decided I needed to start
seeing a counselor. I was lucky to find a lady with a lot of experience with
this kind of loss. She helped guide me through the storm of emotions and armed
me with tools to better handle the hard days. I learned it’s okay to feel
anger and sadness, to accept how I am feeling on any given day, without having
shame for it. And also not to worry about making others uncomfortable by
talking or not talking about my loss. I am the one who should take control of
the situation and tell others how they can support me or what I need from them.
Most of all she helped me learn to communicate better with Jason; to
acknowledge Elle Jay with him and find ways to honor or celebrate her. Leading me to be in a much better, stronger place. In fact I'm planning to plant a tree in her memory later this year, so we'll have a place to visit that we can acknowledge and celebrate her.
As
far as wanting another baby, I've been back and forth between trying and not
trying to get pregnant again ever since. I know people are always wondering,
what’s next, and when. I tried to take a little time off right after, per the
doctor's orders, but it's always been hard to avoid trying when I sense there
could be some chance--right? And I often get trapped in the endless cycle of
trying then waiting and hoping, then being let down when my period arrives. I
realized months ago though that getting pregnant and having another baby
wouldn’t replace Elle Jay or make up for what happened. And that the important
thing is giving myself time to heal from losing her.
Looking
on the bright side, this experience has strengthened my marriage and myself.
It’s also connected me with a lot of other women who have had similar experiences
or losses. Connecting with others who can relate to what you’ve been
through has got to be one of the most powerful ways of making you feel comforted and less
alone.
For
anyone who’s had a miscarriage or is struggling to get pregnant, I wish there were words of comfort I could
give to take away your pain, help you heal faster or make your struggle go
away, but I know from first hand experience that there isn’t an easy way, there
aren’t always the right words to say and there is no time limit on how long it
takes to heal. It breaks my heart to know the pain others like me are feeling,
and know that there may not be a way to give everyone a happy ending to their
stories. I feel like saying “I’m sorry” just isn’t enough, and I don’t
know what is the right thing to say, especially since we all handle grief, loss
and struggle differently.
I guess if
there’s anything I could offer someone going through a tough situation tied to
pregnancy loss or the struggle to get pregnant it’d be a big hug, a reminder
that you are so strong and amazing for enduring everything you have (GIRL
POWER!), and to lend an ear for you to share however it is you’re feeling about
your situation, good or bad or AWFUL. You are totally allowed to feel however
it is you are feeling. Whether that’s frustrated, hopeless, depressed,
exhausted, anxiety-ridden, etc. etc. I’ve found for myself that a lot of the
time I just need to hear what I’m feeling is normal and justified. Sometimes I need
someone to tell me what I went through was awful or traumatic and that I should
be angry/mad/sad before I can let myself feel the sadness that’s been lingering
there for awhile. I shouldn’t be looking for validation from others, but
it’s something I’m working on. ☺
Every day is different but my faith is strong things will be okay and we'll be able to grow our family some day. Until then, I try to stay focused on living in the present as much as possible. Not worrying about what's to come, and finding peace with what's already past. So today I keep her memory alive by sharing her story. Love you Elle Jay!
Every day is different but my faith is strong things will be okay and we'll be able to grow our family some day. Until then, I try to stay focused on living in the present as much as possible. Not worrying about what's to come, and finding peace with what's already past. So today I keep her memory alive by sharing her story. Love you Elle Jay!
If you are
reading this and can relate or are feeling that you could benefit from
connecting with other women who can relate to what you’re going through or have
gone through, I’d love to tell you more about support groups that are out
there, and put you in touch with someone that could help. Leave a comment or email me at mcnama65@gmail.com.