I wasn’t sure what I would write for the title of this blog. I haven’t talked about being pregnant again, on here. Our rainbow baby. Our hope.
We were due with our baby this coming summer, August 5, 2014. That is nine days after our Emily’s due date, from last year. Our baby arrived sooner than we thought. February 12, 2014. That is four days after our Emily’s “birthday”.
How do I feel? Sad, again. As I said at our baby’s funeral this past Friday, February 21st, “It is not easier this time. It is more bearable because we know what to expect. It would be like losing a child, which we did. And then losing another child, which we did. It still hurts.”
It is a different experience on some level, but still very hard and confusing. All of the medical personnel after our Emily died, with no reason, said, “This is very common, and most couples go onto have a healthy, alive baby after a ‘miscarriage’.” We do have two healthy, living boys here with us, Matthew and Ryan. But this time around I caught a small glimpse of what it feels like to have hope taken again. Couples that keep trying for a baby here, and keep losing their babies. I do not know what it feels like not to have a baby here, but I felt a good amount of frustration, confusion, and hopelessness. I did not feel that with Emily, to this level, this time around. I thought we “turned over every stone” to ensure that our baby would be born alive this time.
It is very hard to know that we are not in control, as much as we would like to be. That is hard to say, “Okay, God, ‘Thy will be done’.” It is very hard.
So many people have asked, “How could this happen again?” I say, “I don’t know.” And they follow it with, “I just do not know what to say.” I don’t know what to say. Some say, “It is so unfair.” I don’t know. I am not saying that I do not struggle with these thoughts, but I am just at a stage of sadness right now. Sadness that our hope was taken, again. I knew going into this pregnancy that “it” could happen again. I just didn’t think it would. It was like a constant battle in my head that went on throughout this pregnancy. I was getting very hopeful as we approached Emily’s anniversary date, thinking, “We are going to be okay this time. We’re going to be alright.”
I was just so frustrated with God last night, sitting in church. I barely sang or said the prayers. I was giving up on hope. And then our priest, who performed both of our babies ceremonies said in his homily, “Do not give up. Run the race until the end, so that God can say when you die someday, ‘Job well done’.” Our priest was referring to the Olympics, but was applying their struggles to our lives. I thought, “Okay, God, I know that you are speaking to me. Don’t give up hope, whatever that will look like.” I am not saying hope as in having another baby, but more so about God using me for this next chapter in our lives. For they have changed, again, forever.
Attached here is the poem, “Again,” that I wrote for our baby’s funeral.