Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day

October 15th.

It might sound like a​ random ol' date but it's a special one to me and my family. It's Preganncy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day. 

It may sound ​silly to have just 1 day to remember the babies that are in heaven. God knows the pain goes far beyond a single day. 

In fact,​ I use to get angry that this day even existed. I use to feel like this day was a slap in the face, a reminder of what could have been and of what was lost. 

Since I've started blogging, and as this day approached, I've come to the conclusion ​this day is a necessity for so many reasons, but mostly because having a specific day of rememberence helps bring awareness to a topic that happens frequently, to 1 in 4 women to be exact. 

I continue to be amazed at how taboo this subject is in our society. My hope is that this year, we break the silence. 

The Forgotten Wedding Vow

Our wedding, Saddlerock Ranch, '09

Josh and I find ourselves in an interesting fertility predicament. I'm not sick per se, but I have several things wrong with my body that are preventing me from holding onto a pregnancy. I had a slew of immunology testing done over the summer. Results came back and I have a list of issues:

An overactive immune system

Genetic mutation for blood clotting disorders

High levels of natural killer cells

Low serentinine levels

Genetic mutation for thyroid disease

All of which equates to a radical protocol BEFORE we even get clearance to try and conceive.

So am I sick? I don't really know how to answer that. I guess technically I have more than one autoimmune diseases. All that's to say my emotional state was in a deep dark place after receiving the news.

I began to wonder what I did to my body to make it not work properly. Why do I,  dancer who uses my body every single day for work, not feel connected to it anymore? Why is my body forsaking me? Why can't it just work the way it's suppose to?

A slew of questions, all unanswered.

With each unanswered question came another penny in my negative self-worth jar. (It's not really a jar but you get the imagery attempt, right?)  Pretty soon that jar was so heavy that I began to think irrationally.

I began to think my husband and son didn't deserve to have a wife/mother who was broken. They both deserve to expand their family and they should be able to do so without such obstacles in their way. I began to think how easy it would be to pack up and leave, only to shoot myself down by realizing Josh would beat me to the front door and insist I stay. In that case, if I can't leave I decided to make it really easy for HIM to leave ME. I started treating him poorly, pushing aside our relationship, not speaking to him except when Aiden was around and going to sleep before he even realized I was in bed. If I couldn't leave the marriage very easily, I was going to make it easy for him, give him excuses, to want to leave. The more he didn't budge, the more disrespectful, and desperate, I became.

When we got married we made a vow to stay with one another in "sickness and in health, till death do us part". I always thought of that vow from the perspective of the caretaker - as in, if Josh got sick I wouldn't leave him. Which is true, that thought wouldn't even pass through my brain.

Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks. It's obvious to me I wouldn't leave our marriage if Josh got sick but what if I got sick? That vow goes the other way, too. According to our vow, if I where to get sick I'm not to leave him either.

May seem obvious to you but this was a game changer. I not only take my marriage vows seriously but I whole heartedly believe in them. By shifting my mindset just a wee bit, I started to see the clouds open up and I no longer was in a deep dark place. The reality of what it's going to take for us to expand our family is going to be a journey, but it's one that I wouldn't want to do with anyone else but Josh.

Grief Isn't A One Size Fits All

Most view grief as something you experience when you have lost someone you love. By definition, it's viewed as an emotional response; it also has physical, cognitive and behavioral components.

My dear friend sent me the photo above. It's of a note her grandmother wrote herself after her daughter passed away. Not only do I feel privledged to be witness to it, it has also provided encouragement for me in more ways than one. It's a simple, yet truthful, explanation of grief. 

The first handful of miscarriages were extremely tough on my marriage. Sounds like a no brainer comment, I know. Aside from having to grieve the loss of our babies, I was also grieving the expectation that Josh and I would grieve in the exact same way.

Josh and I grieve VERY differently, our needs are quite opposite from one another. His comfort tendency is to surround himself with friends, be social and keep life propelling forward with normalcy. My comfort tendency is to be a recluse, stay home and cry, escaping normal life because it reminds me of what I have lost. 

One story, in particular, highlights this.

It was our third miscarriage, the loss of our daughter. We had heard the heartbeat, only days before we were forced to say good-bye. I desired to stay at home, lay on the couch watching bad reality TV. Josh did so for a while, then said he wanted to go to a friends house for a game night. I was pissed, how could he leave me? I proceeded to fall asleep on the couch and woke up an hour later to discover he was gone. Pissed is an understatement. I was livid! All I could think was how unsupportive he was in this vulnerable time. When he returned home he explained he had woken me up to tell me he was leaving and I that I had acknowledged him with an, "Okay." 

It took us a long time to unpack our grieving tendencies. It took me an even longer time to accept Josh's grieving process as his own verses something he does purposeful to hurt me. I use to look back on the story above and get angry and hurt. In the same way going about my normal life would cause me pain, now I see sitting on couch only made Josh's pain that much more deep. 

I suppose that's one silver lining of having endured so many miscarriages. Each one has forced us to learn to support and love one another unconditionally during painful times, even when our own pain is so deep it hurts to breath.

See, that's the things about grief, it comes in different sizes and doesn't look the same on everyone, it isn't a one size fits all.