I found out today I'm definitely miscarrying. I'm about six weeks along. No one talks about miscarriage publicly, and I can understand why. It's heartbreaking, it's awkward, it's intensely personal.
But because no one talks about it, I didn't realize how common it really is. That doesn't make it any easier, but with so many people going through it, it would be good to know that others are going through the same thing, to grieve and heal together.
At six weeks, an embryo is the size of an orange seed or a lentil. Teeny tiny. And yet it already has a heartbeat and pumps blood much faster than your own body, and its eyes and nose are beginning to form.
When I found out two days ago that my pregnancy was likely to miscarry, as I walked out of the hospital a name popped into my head: Samuel. *I realize I sound crazy, but I don't really give a F.* I knew simultaneously that this speck was called Samuel (not a name I ever thought about for my baby) and that it wasn't going to make it. When I got home and told hubs, he looked up the Bible story about Samuel and noted maybe I thought of that name because Samuel was the baby that Hannah had after fervently praying to God for one. It's possible, but what came to me so clearly in that moment was that this speck is named Samuel, and that when God called Samuel, he always said "here I am." And while this speck is not yet human and isn't going to make it (something I knew in my heart even before it was confirmed), all I can do when God calls me is say: "here I am. I don't understand why this is happening, I don't know your plan and I hope it's a good one, and I'm sad as hell but here I am, God."
One of the only friends who knew I was pregnant at all told me not to lose hope, because the miscarriage hadn't been confirmed yet. She told me to pray for a miracle, and that she'd be praying for me.
So I did pray for a miracle, but probably not the kind she was thinking. I didn't pray for this baby to stick. I prayed for the past two days that whatever happens, God would help me to accept it, and that God would give me the child I am meant to be a mother to.
I know that with time this will all seem like a blip in history, but right now it fucking sucks. As tiny as it was, it was my first baby. Hubs and I were already planning our lives around when it would arrive. We had such happy thoughts thinking about life with this little one, who we were sure was going to be a little terror, because you know, karma's a bitch. (and it's like our parents sealed a deal with the universe by saying when we were growing up: "One day you're going to have a child JUST like you and you'll understand.")
So. Goodbye little Samuel the Speck. I'm sad we will never get to meet you. I'm sad I won't get to be your mom, but I hope that one day soon I will have the children I'm supposed to be a mother to.
But because no one talks about it, I didn't realize how common it really is. That doesn't make it any easier, but with so many people going through it, it would be good to know that others are going through the same thing, to grieve and heal together.
At six weeks, an embryo is the size of an orange seed or a lentil. Teeny tiny. And yet it already has a heartbeat and pumps blood much faster than your own body, and its eyes and nose are beginning to form.
When I found out two days ago that my pregnancy was likely to miscarry, as I walked out of the hospital a name popped into my head: Samuel. *I realize I sound crazy, but I don't really give a F.* I knew simultaneously that this speck was called Samuel (not a name I ever thought about for my baby) and that it wasn't going to make it. When I got home and told hubs, he looked up the Bible story about Samuel and noted maybe I thought of that name because Samuel was the baby that Hannah had after fervently praying to God for one. It's possible, but what came to me so clearly in that moment was that this speck is named Samuel, and that when God called Samuel, he always said "here I am." And while this speck is not yet human and isn't going to make it (something I knew in my heart even before it was confirmed), all I can do when God calls me is say: "here I am. I don't understand why this is happening, I don't know your plan and I hope it's a good one, and I'm sad as hell but here I am, God."
One of the only friends who knew I was pregnant at all told me not to lose hope, because the miscarriage hadn't been confirmed yet. She told me to pray for a miracle, and that she'd be praying for me.
So I did pray for a miracle, but probably not the kind she was thinking. I didn't pray for this baby to stick. I prayed for the past two days that whatever happens, God would help me to accept it, and that God would give me the child I am meant to be a mother to.
I know that with time this will all seem like a blip in history, but right now it fucking sucks. As tiny as it was, it was my first baby. Hubs and I were already planning our lives around when it would arrive. We had such happy thoughts thinking about life with this little one, who we were sure was going to be a little terror, because you know, karma's a bitch. (and it's like our parents sealed a deal with the universe by saying when we were growing up: "One day you're going to have a child JUST like you and you'll understand.")
So. Goodbye little Samuel the Speck. I'm sad we will never get to meet you. I'm sad I won't get to be your mom, but I hope that one day soon I will have the children I'm supposed to be a mother to.
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