Remembering Pregnancy Loss

Most people don’t know that Eloise is our rainbow baby.

In April of 2019 I had an early miscarriage/chemical pregnancy. And I never talked about it. Not out of a sense of guilt or shame. But because the situation just made it…weird.

I had always admired women who shared about their loss. It’s surprisingly common yet seldom acknowledged. I guess I thought I would do the same if I found myself in that situation. But when I was, I didn’t because I couldn’t.

Now here I am a year and a half later sharing the story. I’ve carried it along with me and want to honor the memory. And since today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day I figured there was no time like the present.

See in April of 2019 my husband was gone at NTC. For non Army people, that means he was sweating it out in the Mojave desert for about a month. With no phone.

I found out I was pregnant right after he left and didn’t say anything because something just felt “off.” And if everything was ok I had my heart set on surprising him when he came home.

Sometimes people dismiss early losses. You never see the baby on an ultrasound or hear a heartbeat. But I can tell you I had calculated my due date, planned the cute Christmas themed newborn pictures I would take, figured out if my husband would be able to go to the anatomy scan before leaving for his rotation. Wondered if he would feel the baby kick before he left. So I may never have seen my baby or heard a heartbeat, but that doesn’t make the loss any less real.

I’m not going to go super into detail, but as time went on I was more and more convinced something wasn’t right. By that time my husband didn’t have his phone so talking to him about what was going on wasn’t an option. I had to fight with the doctors to take my concerns seriously. After a lot of appointments and blood draws, they finally confirmed what I already knew.

By a stroke of luck or maybe divine intervention, my mom was coming down for Easter. I also had a couple amazing friends I talked to. But overall it was a very isolating experience. I wanted to tell people I wasn’t ok. That I was absolutely wrecked. But I couldn’t fathom telling other people before I was able to tell my husband.

Even when he got his phone back I didn’t say anything. At that point it was over (at least physically) and I didn’t think he needed that kind of distraction from the training he was doing since they were already sleep deprived and under a lot of pressure.

So when my husband got home, I didn’t get to surprise him with the news that we were expecting a baby. Instead I had to tell him that for just a short while we had been, but then it was gone. Nothing prepares you to have that conversation.

By that time it has been “over” for long enough that it felt strange to share. So I never did. And I was so incredibly lucky to get pregnant with Eloise soon after.

But there’s always the part of you that has experienced loss. The pain doesn’t go away. Every time you have to do paperwork for a doctor and put down 3 pregnancies and 2 children you feel it again.

So to all the mothers who have experienced loss-I see you. Whether your loss is public knowledge or yours alone. Your pain is so very valid, but please never feel alone.

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