I’ve had another blog draft in the works about this topic, but I feel inspired to write in the rawness of my feelings right now. On this 7th day of my writing challenge, I’m going to tell you about my miscarriage.
Only days after I found out I was pregnant this past autumn, I had a miscarriage. It was Halloween, which seemed oddly appropriate. Those days between the positive pregnancy test and the days following the initial bleeding were pretty intense.
We weren’t planning on getting pregnant. I had finally weaned our youngest and was hoping to balance out my volatile hormones and let my body finally heal. When I found myself pregnant, I immediately began sobbing. I was sooo overwhelmed. I had no idea how I was going to do it. My entire course of direction was changing and I was so depressed over it. It felt like my world was crashing down.
After a couple days, I was able to muster up some hope and excitement. I had been feeling the presence of this child for a while, and I was convinced she was going to be incredibly special (I correctly guessed all 3 of my children’s genders, and I believe this child was a girl. I’ve never been wrong).
I already had a name. It came to me on July 4th last year: Indigo River. It’s pretty gender neutral, so I decided that if ever I had another child, whether girl or boy, I would name my child Indigo River, with the darling nickname of Indi.
I found out I was pregnant on a Friday. On Monday, I started spotting. I was very nervous about this, having never spotted during my other three pregnancies. I thought maybe I was just stressed and needed to chill out.
The next day, on Halloween, I started bleeding for real. It felt like my world was crashing down, yet again. It hurt so bad. And I felt so conflicted. I felt both grief and relief- grief to be losing this child that felt so special, and relief at no longer carrying the responsibility for yet one more human.
As soon as I began bleeding, I knew I couldn’t treat my blood as mere “waste”. My blood was special because it contained my child. I decided to bury my blood.
I chose to bury my child underneath the birch tree behind the house. It’s a special tree to me, a tree that has been influencial in my own healing. That Halloween evening, as the sun was setting and it lightly rained, my husband dug the hole and I poured the blood. We held each other and cried.
Whenever I see that beautiful white birch tree, I think of my precious Indi. I wish I could have met her. I wish I could have known the person she would have become. There’s an entire lifetime of memories I’ll miss out on. It’s just so hard sometimes. I already lost my first child to a rare cancer when she was only 18 months old. I’ve already lost a lifetime of memories, now I’ve lost yet another.
In my sad moments, my two children come to me and try to cheer me up. They hug me and smile, they draw me pictures, and tonight my 4 year old handed me the guitar because she knows music makes me happy. They are so beautiful and precious, they fill my heart with so much light and laughter. Sometimes I think I love them even more because of my loss.
I am so thankful for my little family: for my amazing husband who is the rock of my life and our family, my daughter who is full of humor and passion, and my son who is so loving and sensitive. And I am thankful for my firstborn, who’s life and death ripped me open, and for my unborn child who’s brief existence will forever be celebrated.
In the moments of grief, I can still feel my heart so full of joy for all the blessings in my life. I am thankful even for my disappointments, because they reveal to me my own depths and strength.
“The wound is where the light enters you”
I am caught in the current
of the Indigo river
Lost in the flow
all I can do is let go
There is no fighting
of the movement