Such a mix of feelings

Made with love, for love, from love, of love. I have lost 3 now.

Baby loss submission

Story by Anonomous, 

I am lucky. I feel this.

I have a husband who loves and supports me. I have our boy. Our beautiful, exciting, challenging, gorgeous 4 year old boy. I am lucky in this. I love them.

I have what feels like a massive fist clenched in my chest. A lump in my throat amass with all the other words I can not say, the feelings I am unable to feel. I feel winded, held, tense stuck.

I have lost another baby. It was early, it was tiny, another poppy seed sized creation that had not been here long enough to have a heartbeat. But does that matter? Not to me. It was mine. We made it and it was growing in me, my tiny secret in my tummy.

Made with love, for love, from love, of love. I have lost 3 now. One from a tube, two correctly placed. But not enough to stay. I feel like such a failure, to not be able to hold on to my babies, to keep them safe, to let them grow. Am I broken?

Is there something wrong happening, or is it just ‘bad luck’? I don’t know. These 2 miscarriages happened within less then 3 months of each other. The roller coaster of emotion is ridiculous, I don’t know where I’m at.

Pregnant in October, bereft in November. Sad that at Christmas I should’ve been pregnant but trying to enjoy it for what I do have. Then, actually, pregnant again? Anxiety, fear at every twinge, but a tiny tiny piece of hope.. then, lost, again, on New Year’s Day.

I feel so guilty. I want to give our boy a sibling, so so much. I don’t have one, I want him to have one. Is it selfish also to not feel finished with all the baby-ness? I love each new stage we’ve had with our son, but I don’t feel ‘done’. I feel so bad for my husband that I haven’t been able to hold on to our babies and keep them safe.

He says he loves me, adores me and I wonder how this can be true, when I can’t do this fundamental thing; this natural human function as a woman now eludes me and I feel broken, less, a fail, wanting.

I am scared. Scared that it will keep happening. Scared to try again. Scared not to try again and waste precious time. Scared that the next one could be fine, who knows because no one knows yet, and yet we’re waiting for tests. Scared that the tests won’t show anything, anything that can be helped, so then we just have to try and hope again and again.

I don’t want the whole of our son’s young childhood taken up with the the grief of lost babies, of the anxiety and hope and pain that goes with it.

So how long do we try for? How many times can we go through this? I don’t know. I know it’s more. I know we will try again. I don’t know how long for but we will. So I must still have hope.

I have hope and I have love.


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