Fear.
It was the theme of my rainbow pregnancy. From the moment that faint second line appeared on the pregnancy test, fear took my entire being hostage. It seemed to be the only constant in my pregnancy after loss story. Hope would surface on occasion, but the fear was a constant and unwelcome companion.
There was fear that I would experience another ectopic pregnancy.
Fear that I would experience a miscarriage.
Fear that I would experience another stillbirth.
Fear that I would experience the death of another life that had called my womb home.
Fear that my living child would have another sibling she wouldn’t actually get to meet.
Fear that I, along with the rest of my little family, would have to say goodbye.
For nine months, I panicked. My heart clenched itself tighter than my fists. My body remained tense to the point of near paralysis. My mind wavered between disassociation and defeat. When it wasn’t denying the fact that I was pregnant, it was acknowledging it only by concluding that it would end in loss.
When people asked me how I was doing, they seemed surprised when my answer was simply that I was scared. They didn’t seem to have the capacity to comprehend that pregnancy doesn’t always end in the form of life. That sometimes it takes the shape of death. Despite their awareness of my history and losses.
And I felt guilty for not being able to absorb their hope.
I wondered if I was even allowed to sink into a place of fear when I’d had the good fortune of becoming pregnant again.
But the truth is, I didn’t need anyone’s permission to be scared. I had every right. Because it’s completely normal to be scared of losing something that is so incredibly precious – something that you know can’t be replaced. It’s normal to be scared of losing a baby when you’ve already lost one. Or two. Fear is a normal part of pregnancy when experience has proven babies sometimes die.
Yes, pregnancy after loss is a time of hope and joy – it carries with it a certain optimism about the future. But it’s also a time of fear.
And it’s okay to feel it.
This post was originally published at Pregnancy After Loss Support.
I lost my precious baby girl, Emma, 3 weeks before her due date 17 years ago. I had two more pregnancies with mountains of fear during each one. I was the worst patient. If at anytime I felt anxious as I approached the due date, I would make up anything and rush to hospital so they could monitor baby. I didn’t care what they thought of me. I would do literally anything to be aware of how the baby was doing. You see Emma had a knot in her cord that tightened on awful night and she was gone. The next morning I knew something was wrong. I called the on call doctor that called me hysterical and generally yelled at me. My husband and I proceeded to the hospital. And I would have loved to be wrong, but the monitor showed no heart beat. Over the next 22 hours I would have to give birth. She was pink and beautiful 6lbs 13 oz baby, but the reason for her death was immediately evident. The cord had a knot in it and no blood flowed to the part leading to her belly. No words. I remember the subsequent pregnancies and the fear, the anger and the determination that I wanted to do everything I could to protect, fully knowing in the end it was out of my hands. I, too, during the years that followed Emma’s death found that God comforted me by the people he sent, some were strangers before. I celebrate Emma on holidays, her birthday and have pictures around the house, jewelry that remind me of her presence. To all those you minister to, I thank you. What a blessing.
Lori, thank you so much for sharing your story and your precious Emma here. I am so sorry for your loss. How devastating. It’s something that you never forget and the trauma from that experience definitely bleeds into future pregnancies. And you are right – there are no words for such a loss. Yes, God sends comfort and help in a variety of ways and I’m so glad you found it during your time of need.