Well. It has been a while since you heard from me. I’m sure many of you thought I had “quiet quite”, and at times over these last few months, you might have been right. The truth is that I have spent the last several months living out a dark chapter of my life I never saw myself living. Strangely, it is not until now that I have felt the ability, or found the words to mark this chapter or to safely say that I feel we are turning the page.
I am a deeply private person in many ways, many aspects of my life and interior self I keep private from view. However, the nature of writing opinion pieces requires a degree of explanation for where I’m coming from, and my lived experience - and my experience has now changed. I have also benefited hugely from the shared experiences of others through this time, so how could I be so selfish to not find a way to potentially help others too?
Early in September (exact dates are not being mentioned for privacy, but be assured dates are burned into my memory) we lost a pregnancy very early one, about 3-4 weeks in, likely due to hormonal disruption still in my system from a medication I had taken a few months before. This was my first miscarriage, and the experience was scary and a shock. I have never had any real risks in my pregnancies, so this loss so suddenly hit like a blow to the gut. Why? What went wrong? And the ultimate, unanswerable question every parent who has lost a child asks: “why take them before they could live their life?” “what was their purpose for existing at all?”. This loss sunk deep in my bones, colored my whole outlook in grey-tone, and is the main reason I took an extended leave from work. How could I write, about anything really, when my outlook was so dark and hopeless? I am very glad I listened to my heart and my body, and gave myself time to process, because little did I know, it wasn’t over.
After a little over a month of healing and struggling emotionally with our loss, in late October, we found out we were blessed with an unexpected surprise baby. That positive pregnancy test felt like a dream from another lifetime, my head still very much stuck in the place of loss, healing and possible fertility troubles. It was doubly terrifying because the test followed our whole family contracting Covid-19 for the second time since 2021, and everything I remembered from those early days of the Pandemic was the elevated 1st trimester risks associated with Covid. So naturally, I held my breath. I struggled hard with bonding with this baby, this beautiful surprise I didn’t expect in the middle of grieving the one that came before. In my gut, I knew something wasn’t right, but at the time I told myself I was just struggling to move on with grief. Several weeks went by, the pregnancy was thriving, and I finally made myself start bonding with this new baby. I painted the nursery in the evenings the color I had chosen this summer when we first started trying for a baby, hoping to make myself feel that this was actually happening. I even broke my own 12 week rule, and had us announce this pregnancy by 8 weeks in our Christmas cards - again trying to focus on joy and healing from the sorrow & anxiety that I felt haunted me.
A little over a week after I posted our Christmas cards, I went in for my routine appointment. Struggling to process the body language of the nurses and the silence of the machine, my OB broke the hard truth to me - baby’s heartbeat was gone and growth had stopped. Her explanation was that the loss was likely due “to organ damage from my Covid infection early on in the pregnancy” which I heard, but had to go hunt for answers later to fully understand. The undeniable truth was however, our 2nd pregnancy had ended in a missed-miscarraige, and my body hadn’t gotten the message yet. It was over.
I struggled hard with this second loss, the damnable “why?” again, and just the bafflement that I thought all would be well now. As someone who has now done this twice in a row, I will say the first day is the hardest. The only blessing I can say you get with a missed-miscarraige (and there are relatively few positives to the situation) is the space to emotionally grieve before your body undertakes the processes of passing the pregnancy. For a little over a week, leading up to Christmas, I grieved hard, searched for answers, and found some peace with the loss of this second baby. For anyone who has lost a pregnancy in connection to Covid, there are studies now that explain the damage that that virus can do to an undeveloped fetus’ cells (particularly the brain cells), based on medical findings, and it is helpful to understand clearly what happened rather than wonder what went wrong. I passed that pregnancy a few days before Christmas; that resulted in a hemorrhage, surgery and hospital stay. This scary turn of events added an enormous layer of physical healing on top of the already heavy emotional healing.
In reflection, there are very good medical explanations for both of my very different pregnancy losses, and my doctor has every faith that with a little healing, I will conceive again. Which is a great comfort to know; as the desire for a 3rd child in our family (on earth), after all of this pain, has not faded. During our loss in September, my husband and I kept our grief very private - struggling to process it ourselves, much less how to communicate it to our loved ones and friends. In reflection, that was definitely not needed, or the wisest choice; because we struggled alone, for weeks and weeks. The second time in December, largely due to the enormity of the loss, we did share the news immediately with family and a few friends. The experience was like night and day. Family and dear friends quite literally HELD US, loved us through the process, and supported us in a 100 different ways. From support caring for my older boys, to physical hugs, check-in texts, prayers, so many nourishing meals, flowers, and understanding: our community stepped in and stepped up for us at a time when our hearts were in fragments on the ground. My gratitude and thanks knows no bounds.
In many ways, 2024 turned out to be an Annus Horribilis; a year filled with challenges and disappointments that closed out with a particularly dark chapter in our life. But like all dark moments in life, the point of them is to focus on what was good, what stood the test of hardship in the midst of so much bad - a reminder of what actually matters. My heart sung to see in my own personal community, loved ones come together and put aside disagreements or tension in some cases for the greater good of unity, love and friendship. In a year where division and isolation seemed like the prevailing policy, I was heartened to see how quickly we can rediscover humanity and love. My husband and I took this new pain in stride together, and grew through it to new levels of mutual love, understanding and resilience, in an experience that could have easily broken us. And as my sweet boys grappled with their first personal experience with loss, we handled everything openly and with love and support as a family - fielding every question, and trying to explain everything gently and with hope. Christmas this year, though unalterably different from what we thought it would be, became a family effort to focus on togetherness and love in the most heartfelt ways.
To my 2 babies, taken from us so soon, you will never be forgotten. The beauty of coming from a family that values heritage, is the perpetual remembrance of all of our family that have passed on - even if names, faces, and stories have faded from living memory; you are never truly forgotten. For the first time in my life, I have questions that do not have a shred of explanation on earth. Sure, I have medical explanations for what happened to their little bodies, but I don’t have the answers to the big questions. I will have to wait for those answers on the other side as well. I commend their care to those that have gone before us, confident that we will meet someday.
Requiescat in pace, amores meos.
In Closing: Editor at Large will return very soon, but with a modified schedule. Thank you for being here, and for reading and supporting my work. Who knows what 2025 will hold for us all, but in the meantime, I hope you all have a happy and blessed New Year.
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Noelle, I am so sorry for the loss of these two precious babies. Know that you and your family are in my prayers.
Wishing you all the best in this new year of hope
It’s brave of you to share. My hurt hearts for everything you’ve been through. Sending you so much love and holding quiet space for all of you. 🤎