As my family and I celebrate the first birthday of our sweet Hayes, I thought that now would be the perfect time for a very personal blog post. I don’t always feel comfortable putting my life out there into the cyber world but I have certainly had those moments when I have scoured the internet searching for others’ experiences similar to mine. I always feel so much comfort when I find those stories to which I can relate. To know that I’m not alone. And for that reason, I chose to share my family’s story.

“I will never forget that day in the hospital when I heard the news that no pregnant mother wants to hear. I was only 7 1/2 weeks pregnant with my third child but I had already made plans for this little baby. I had made a timeline in my mind of how our lives were going to change, possible names, when he (or she) would have his first birthday. How I would finally have a summer baby. Eric and I were so excited and so were our girls! That all came crashing down in a heap of reality when I took myself to the emergency room because things just weren’t right. The look on the sonographer’s face told me the news without her having to utter a word. She wasn’t permitted to anyway. That’s left for the doctor. Waiting for the official news from him seemed like a lifetime. A lifetime of waiting for news I already knew. News I never thought I would ever have to hear. And why would I? I’ve never had issues getting pregnant or staying pregnant for that matter. Pregnancy had always come easy to me. I never had to feel the pain and stress that a mother feels when she loses a baby or the disappointment she feels when she can’t get pregnant. No, things like this just didn’t happen to me.

I decided to let nature takes its course and opted to not have surgery. The reality of what I was in for during the days ahead began to sink in the following day. I think that’s when the hormones really started to take a nose dive and I thought I was going a bit crazy. I had never felt so alone. I mourned this little baby that for some inexplicable reason was taken from me so swiftly. I mourned for the life that I thought I was going to have with this new little one. I mourned for my family’s broken expectations. My girls were so excited to have a baby in the house. My husband was excited to possibly, finally, have a son. That was all washed away now. I felt like I had let my family down, like I was some type of failure. My body had failed me! My body had failed my family and the future we were supposed to have. While this may seem a bit extreme, these are the thoughts that a woman has after a miscarriage.

Aside from the roller coaster of emotions that I felt as my body began to heal, I began to reflect on my life; how much I had taken my children for granted. Babies always came easy to me. I never had to “work” for them. But now it was different and now I appreciated my children more than I ever had! I felt so guilty for every time that I had yelled at them or had gotten frustrated with the little things. I realized that there was a woman somewhere that would have given ANYTHING to be in my shoes, struggles and all. Now I understood.

As my body and family returned to some normalcy, I knew that we would try again. I knew that we would get pregnant again. I also knew that there was the possibility that I could lose the baby again…

Read Part II (coming next week) for the next chapter of our journey!
Until then…