I had very high anxiety during pregnancy.
I spent the first 24 weeks cringing every time I went to the bathroom. Scared that I would see blood. Worried at every little pain or cramp, panicked on the days I woke up with less nausea than the day before. Afraid constantly that I would lose yet another pregnancy. Tormented by thoughts that I was broken and incapable of having children (or more than one child). Everyday with both pregnancies, I googled my chances of miscarriage. I hit the 2% point and still worried incessantly. I did kick counts hourly, I googled “survival rates” for preemies, I stressed all day if I missed a prenatal vitamin. This is how I spent 39 weeks during each pregnancy.
I didn’t take time off of work when I had the flu, but I did when I had a miscarriage.
I just think this is important for people to hear. I’m not ashamed or disappointed I took that time. I needed more time to recoup from my miscarriage. My mind and my body were involved. I was devastated, hurt, concerned, and faced with an unknown. I sat alone with Dr. Google and cried.
I confided in one person about my stress… who wasn’t my husband.
All of that above? I spent months dumping my anxiety on my best friend. Thankfully, she’s an amazing human and soaked all of my anxiety and fears into her heart. She never tried to make it better, she just listened. For everyone else around me, I acted like everything inside of me was okay. To them, I was fine. I was constantly drained from this.
I was so worried about my son, I didn’t bond with him right away.
My son is my oldest. I got pregnant with him the first cycle after my miscarriage. I went to the doctor for bleeding when I was about 5.5 weeks pregnant with him and got a non-helpful “well, you’ll either have a baby or not” reply. I switched doctors VERY quickly after that.
After his birth, I obsessed over everything. Was he nursing enough? Why was he crying? What should I do about his tongue tie? Is that normal? On and on and on. I was so scared of losing him, I didn’t take the time to ENJOY him.
I was so thankful to have my daughter, I held her as much as I could in the first 2 weeks (to my own exhaustion).
Welcome to the other side. After 5 miscarriages (I’m an early tester and had a lot of early losses) and a rough pregnancy, my youngest was born. I couldn’t believe the difference in having her and my son. Was it my prior experience? Was is the fact that I had so much loss prior to her? I wouldn’t let her go from the minute she was born. There are VERY few pictures of my husband holding her (or anyone else for that matter). I didn’t want to let her go or let her out of my sight.
I feel guilty every time I want some time alone.
I mean, were these children not wanted desperately? I often wonder if I would feel the same way if I had not experienced loss. When I get frustrated and lose my temper, I then spend hours (okay, days) feeling awful. Here I am just frustrated and annoyed and wanting time to myself. (Yes, yes, I get that’s normal, but it doesn’t stop my guilt.)
I knew I didn’t want any more kids, but I still sobbed when I tied my tubes.
It took me over 1 year, and I had 1 miscarriage before I had my rainbow baby #1. It took me over 1 year and 5 miscarriages before I had my rainbow baby #2. We knew we were done. We knew we didn’t want any other littles.
My OBGYN asked if I was interested in “permanent birth control,” and I shrugged saying, “It’s not like it’s easy for me to get pregnant.” At the end of a long conversation (and the fact that insurance pays for it 100%), I opted to go for it. (What did I have to lose?)I belong to a community that is bigger than most realize. #recurrentmiscarriage Click To Tweet
I panicked a little when I signed the paperwork. I sniffled on the way to the operating room. I sobbed when I got back to the room with my newborn. I didn’t want more babies, but after such a frustrating struggle… how could I take that away from myself permanently?
I get a lump in my throat every time someone talks about infertility / pregnancy loss.
I think about myself at those times. Selfish, but true. I think about the MOUNDS of pregnancy tests that I had stored away as reminders. My heart gets heavy. I don’t know their journey, but I understand their weight. Even a years after my miscarriages, this still happens.
I learned the hard way to stop asking others about their fertility.
“Do you want any more kids?” “Are you waiting to have babies?” (on and on).
These were questions that used to fly out of my mouth. Then, suddenly, I was on the other side of these questions, and I realized how oblivious I had been. No one knew my struggles, my journey… and their questions were cutting. I learned quick and adjusted.
Fertility is a journey that belongs to those trying to conceive. NO ONE ELSE.
I still struggle to move past feelings of being broken.
That’s all. I made it so I can’t have more kids, but I still feel broken at times.
I wouldn’t change My Story.
Never. Ever. Ever. Ever. I am who I am because of my journey. I have a wealth of knowledge and a heart that is more open and more accepting. I have stepped outside of myself and have learned. Grown. Developed. I have my two rainbow babies, and I understand how fortunate I am. I realize there are others who are still waiting.
I belong to a community that is bigger than most realize. I am encouraged to talk about my struggles, my journey, my diagnosis. My story is me, and I’m so much better for it.
I have had multiple miscarriages. #recurrentmiscarriage
I am a mother of rainbow babies. #rainbowbabies
I am uniquely me after miscarriage.
Kim Wayne is an adventurous and natural-minded mama of two rainbow babies and six babies in heaven. She is a dear, like-minded friend of mine. Follow her and her sweet family on Instagram or on her blog, The Wild Waynes, as they downsize from a 3-bedroom house in the green hills of Southern California to a tiny-but-mighty home that can take them (and all their delicious family recipes) wherever they dream.