Glimmers of Hope

This blog can't be all about loss and grief. We are in a hopeful state, right now. We saw a heartbeat this time! First, very early, when the ultrasound amended my due date and moved me from 6 to 5 weeks pregnant. Then, again, at 9 weeks, the baby had grown and the heartbeat was strong. This, we had not seen in the past two pregnancy losses - by 9 weeks there was no heartbeat to observe. So, we became hopeful.

It was time to tell our other kids. It has become difficult to keep this secret from them, anyway. I am sick most days, and napping all the time. A day or two of that might be explained away, but now it has been about 3 weeks. Also, after 9 prior pregnancies (4 of them full term), my body didn't need long to remember the expanded shape. My hips have already grown several inches in circumference and none of my pants or skirts fit, even remotely. I am running out of sheath dresses to wear.

I was apprehensive about how they would take the news. After all, our house is already full. Our lives are stretched thin, our bedrooms are shared. Would they be excited to make room for a new sibling? Also, they all felt quite keenly the pain of miscarriage, last year. We had a month to dream together as a family about our new baby before we learned that he or she would never join us. Would they be reluctant to open their hearts again?

I told them at the dinner table, matter-of-factly. But I did glance around as my announcement sank in, quickly for the older ones and more slowly for the younger one. I was so relieved to see that each of them, in turn, as they came to understanding, broke into a genuine smile.

The questions came later. Those were fair. Each in their own way, they wanted to know, would this baby die, also? I had to be honest with them - I have no guarantees. Things look very hopeful, but babies are fragile. All we can do is pray, and hope, and wait, and trust in God. They were all okay with that. I think kids are often stronger than we give them credit for.

What Not To Say

During our pregnancy loss last summer, I wrote out a lament by hand. It was cathartic, but when I finished, I didn't know what to do with it. It felt too personal to publish on the blog that I know friends and family read. It felt to real to discard. I have saved the scraps of paper on which I wrote it all this time, and hope to eventually transcribe it here, for my own sake. That is for a later post.

More recently, the words that need writing have to do with how loved ones can react well, or not well, to news of a pregnancy or news of a pregnancy loss. I recognize that no one can navigate this well - what I want from others is not even always the same, and certainly other women represent another completely different set of needs. Even so, there have been some reactions that I believe are probably never helpful.

Conversation 1, at 7 weeks pregnant, about 8 months after our last miscarriage:

Our parents: "So, we didn't mean to eavesdrop, but did we understand correctly that you two are pregnant?"

Us: "Well, yes, actually we are. We aren't really telling anyone yet, until we know better how things are going."

Our parents: "Oh."

Really, that was it. They never mentioned it to me again, ever.  My husband updated them when we confirmed a miscarriage, and they still never acknowledged anything to me again.

"We aren't really telling anyone yet means we aren't making announcements because it was too hard last time to "untell" everyone, especially our other children. But now that you know, a simple, "Congratulations. We are happy for you and are praying for you and the baby," would be so much appreciated. "We are not telling anyone" doesn't mean please pretend it doesn't exist. That hurts.

Converstaion 2, at 9 weeks pregnant, about 1 year after the last miscarriage he knew about:

Me: "Well, did the kids tell you yet? We are expecting again."

My father: "Really? Wow. Um, congratulations. That is great. How far...when?"

Me: "I am almost 10 weeks now."

My father: " That is just great....Um, didn't you want to wait, until you were sure, to tell...um..."

I think he meant, to tell our kids. Maybe he meant, to tell him. It doesn't matter. We are never sure. We are more sure this time...there are indications that things are going better than before, but pregnancy is always fragile. Life is fragile. Yes, we waited a while to tell our kids (more than a month), because it was so hard to tell them about the miscarriage last summer. We never did tell them about the next pregnancy, or miscarriage. It turns out that that was hard, too, to mourn in front of them without them knowing what we were going through, physically or emotionally.

So, if I am telling you, then I have obviously decided that I don't want to wait any longer to tell you. If that means you end up having to share our future grief, I am sorry for that, but please don't question me about it. Love me by being willing to share my burdens as well as my joys.

Introductions

I am starting a new blog here today. My old blogs have been dormant for some time, but I just felt that the thoughts I have wrestled with over the past year have needed their own home.

I am in 42 years old, happily married, and raising 4 beautiful children, ranging in age from high school to preschool. In the past 12 months I have been pregnant three times. While those pregnancies were not exactly planned, we were overjoyed with each one. Two of those pregnancies ended in miscarriage. I am now 9 weeks pregnant again, and trying to grasp enough hope to begin planning for the new person that it seems may be joining our family soon. This blog is my space to work out some of these feelings.