A Season For Healing

For the last couple of weeks, I have wrestled with the decision to write about my experience with miscarriage. At first, I told myself that it was too painful to write about. It was hard enough to live it. This is not my first time but, it was the most difficult to go through. As days passed, I told myself that writing about my experience would make me look like I was looking for attention or oversharing. It's always a struggle to decide what to share on this crazy world of social media. Am I sharing too much? Am I only showing the most "sparkly" parts of me, leading others to believe that I lead a sunshine/rainbows life? It can be a difficult balance to maintain and it makes it hard to not care about what others are thinking about you. Living so far from home has made me more grateful than ever for social media as it has allowed me to stay connected with people I love in many different and positive ways. However, there are days that I feel like throwing all of our electronic devices into the ocean for good. 

As I have worked on healing from this ugly experience, once again, I have felt more and more that it was important for me to share it. I'm not sure if my desire to write about it is more to help me in my healing or to help others who may have had a similar experience or will in the future. I sincerely hope that what I write won't make anyone uncomfortable and I'm certainly not hoping for pity. I would love to read others experiences and would also be happy to answer any questions. Miscarriage is a very lonely and heartbreaking experience. I suppose my desire in writing about it is to feel a closeness with other women who have gone through what I have and to help them feel a little less lonely too. It's always a positive thing to feel strengthened and lifted by others. I know I have felt that strength as I remembered stories and experiences shared by others who have had similar journeys.

I found out I was pregnant on July 23rd. I was filled with joy. I had no doubt that I was going to have a healthy pregnancy and that the timing was right this time. Emma had been asking about having a sibling and I knew it would be such a good thing for her and for our family. The baby was due in April which was kind of crazy but also so fun. Sam, Emma, and I all have April birthdays. I couldn't wait to bring another April baby into our family. For the weeks following, we made plans and worked on preparing ourselves for the new adventure. I planned how I would tell my family, I ordered Emma a "Big Sister" T-shirt, I researched OBGYN's in my area and set an appointment for an ultrasound. I wrote lists of possible baby names and started doing some baby shopping. I had even started a journal on the day I found out just as I did with Emma. I had written several entries recording symptoms, experiences, and feelings in letter form to my sweet baby. I was anticipating so many magical moments. Discovering the gender, telling Emma that she was going to be a sister, helping her feel little kicks on my belly, and watching her meet her brother or sister for the first time. Sam and I both were so excited to have another sweet baby in our lives. 

Just before 7 weeks, I was laying in bed when I had a feeling that I had miscarried. I realized that many of my symptoms had lessened and I just didn't feel the same. I was worried and stayed up nearly all night fretting about it. I tried to convince myself that it was just anxiety and that I shouldn't spend time worrying about it but, the next morning, I started spotting. Immediately I was flooded with emotions. Tears, tears, and more tears as all of the hopes of another precious, tiny baby were taken from me. I called my doctor right away and was told that it was possible that I wasn't having a miscarriage and to call to schedule an appointment if my spotting got worse but, I already knew. I was already lost in grief. The next day, my fear was confirmed. It was oddly comforting to have the ultrasound and see that my baby was there, even though it was no longer growing. Otherwise, the day was utterly comfortless-full of tears and a heavy, lonely darkness. 

For me, one of the worst parts was that I was not only grieving this baby. I also felt like I would never be able to have a healthy pregnancy again. Not only did I feel like my body wasn't capable, I also felt like it would be too scary to try again. I never wanted to live through this awful experience again. If I ever did get pregnant again, I couldn't bear another loss. I hated myself for not being able to give Emma a sibling like I so desperately wanted to. I felt like Emma was going to be my first and last child. Other mothers got to make the decision that their family was complete and I felt robbed of that decision because in the days that followed, I was certain that I would never have another baby of my own again. 

So few people knew that I had been pregnant and I felt alone in my grief. Of course, my husband was my rock and a dear friend of mine that I confided in was willing to have even the most difficult conversations with me about this uncomfortable topic. Even so, I was experiencing some of the worst pain my heart had ever had to experience. My greatest comfort came from a loving Heavenly Father as I prayed to feel any kind of peace and hope. 

A few days after my miscarriage had been confirmed, we were to scheduled to leave on a trip to northern Maine. We planned to visit Acadia National Park and then head west to Moosehead Lake where we would stay in a family member's cabin for a few days. At first, I wished that we weren't going. I was crying constantly and didn't feel like doing anything besides laying in bed. Not only was I experiencing the emotional grief and pain of my loss but, I was also feeling a lot of physical pain and discomfort. As it approached, my physical pain was lessening and I realized that getting away from the house could be a good thing for me. I resolved to make this a trip of healing and hoped to return home with a little more peace in my heart.  

Miscarriage is one of the terrible experiences in life where you have no choice but to just sit in your pain in order to heal, there really isn't much to be done. For me, it was about feeling the love and support of my family and those close to me who I initially shared my experience with. It was especially comforting to feel the loving arms of my savior and to truly realize that he understood my grief perfectly. I later realized that He had also provided many tender mercies for me as I would go through this difficult time. Sam had just finished his semester which meant that he was no longer distracted with classes and finals. He was home and completely available to help me through my emotional and physical pain. We had originally planned to travel to Utah on this break from Sam's classes but, hadn't felt right about it. I realize now that even though I miss my family, it would have been a very difficult time to travel and visit everyone. We had instead planned to go on this trip which, turned out to be the biggest tender mercy of all. It provided me with a lot of time for reflection and rest and most importantly, to feel loved and supported by my family and my Heavenly Father in a truly beautiful place. 

Our trip was absolutely perfect in every way (well, except for the part where Sam lost his wallet and we spent three hours looking for it). The first two days were spent in Acadia National Park where we hiked Cadillac mountain, picked and ate wild blueberries, dipped our feet into Jordan Pond, visited the Bass Harbor Lighthouse, and walked Sand Beach. The three of us squished onto an air mattress in a tent both of those nights and snuggled all night long. 

Cadillac Mountain looking out at fog-covered islands in the distance.

Wild blueberries on Cadillac Mountain

Heading to Jordan Pond

Spot the frog

Bass Harbor Lighthouse

We ate delicious food and splurged on ice cream both days. We hiked, explored, watched the sunset, and listened to the rain as it pounded our waterproof tent through the night. I savored the time spent with my beautiful little girl and loved watching her excitement as we saw and experienced new things on the enchanting Desert Island. 

Sand Beach

On our way off of the island, we bought a pie from a little local place that we had seen a line outside of every day. We ate it straight from the pie tin right after breakfast as we made the three hour drive from Acadia National Park to Moosehead Lake. 

Moosehead Lake was a dream. We stayed in a cabin where I could sit on the back porch and watch the loons glide across the lake and hear them call to each other as the sun set. I could see the reflection of pine trees in the clear water and I listened to Emma laugh as Sam caught her again and again and again jumping from a large rock into the water where they splashed and played. We all swam, fed the ducks, and kayaked until our arms felt like jello every day. I loved being in the middle of that beautiful lake, completely surrounded by trees. I'd close my eyes and just be still. 

Every night we built a fire and ate multiple s'mores and then climbed the ladder to the loft where we all slept together. I was too tired to stay up at night crying and being sad. Instead, I contentedly snuggled between my two favorite people with a warm little dog at my feet and drifted to sleep. 

There is kind of an unspoken rule about staying in a cabin with Sam where he is the one to make breakfast in the morning. I tried getting up on the first day to make pancakes for everyone and he insisted that he wanted to do it. Who am I to argue with that? Every morning Sam made pancakes with cinnamon and nutmeg with hot chocolate (which Emma fell in love with). 

We ventured away from the cabin a couple of times. We visited the adorable little town of Greenville where we wandered through quaint shops and ate at a couple of fun places. We visited Elephant Mountain to see the wreckage of a B52 bomber from the Cold War era where 7 soldiers in training were killed in the crash and 2 survived despite having to spend a night in -29 degree temperatures after their crash. One of them was the only person to survive a plane crash in an ejector seat where their parachute didn't open. It was a sad site and walking the 1/2 mile of wreckage was a sobering experience. 

We enjoyed picking wild raspberries all over the area as we hiked, finding all sorts of strange varieties of plants and mushrooms, and seeing some fun wildlife (although we were disappointed that we never did spot a moose). The whole area surrounding Moosehead Lake was green and lush with all sorts of vegetation. It was the perfect place and we had the perfect time together. 

As I watched the fire die down on our last night, I told Sam that I was sad that the trip had to end. It had felt so perfect and I had smiled and laughed so much. I felt sad that something so wonderful had to end. I wanted the feelings to last and didn't want to have to go back to the pain of what happened and the worry of what the future would hold. 

I don't know what God has in store for my family but, I do feel more hopeful as I look to the future. I am grateful to be so loved by my people and to love them so much. I am grateful to have the support that I have. I think after this last week, I am more grateful than ever for the life that I have and for the sweet baby that I've been blessed with. Being her mom is the greatest gift. My process of healing might look different than yours. The way I felt and grieved may be different too. I think Heavenly Father is mindful of our personal needs and knows what we need and how to best teach us and strengthen us through our trials. My experience is unique but, many have had similar stories and I have been comforted by the strength of others. I am not alone and though the sadness is still there, I am stronger.