2 days before Thanksgiving, I lost our baby, 12 weeks into the pregnancy.
It was a traumatic miscarriage involving multiple hospital visits and severe physical and emotional pain.
Ever since that time, I have struggled with grief and loss. Losing a child by miscarriage is a terrible limbo to exist in.
"Well, it's not like losing a child, right? I mean it's not as if you actually gave birth."-WRONG! The pain and trauma of the miscarriage was EXACTLY like giving birth (I know...done it 3 times before).
The moment I saw that sweet baby on the ultrasound, she was mine (yes, I am aware it was too early to determine gender, but just humor me here). She had a future...a nursery that was going to be beautiful and peaceful with a rocking chair to rock her to sleep, a brother and sisters who would play with her and teach her all kinds of wonderful things, a first step, first tooth, first day of school, graduation, marriage and children of her own. For 12 wonderful weeks, this child lived and grew inside my womb and inside my heart.
We didn't talk about it much. I was pregnant, then I was not. As if I had a cold, and then I did not. I went back to being a "mother of 3", not a "mother of 4".
Even now-almost 4 years later, I struggle with grief that at times makes it hard to breathe. My heart aches so bad it feels as if it will break in two sometimes. There will always be a hole in my heart and my life that this child would have filled.
So I have stopped calling her "the child", "the baby", "baby #4". Her name was Sophie. She was real. She was alive and for a very brief time, she was ours.