Two months ago my world was shattered with the words "You know I'm having a hard time finding the heartbeat?" At that time my world crashed in and I thought there was no way I would be able to crawl back out. No pregnant mother wants to hear those words. I had always thought I was a strong person; thought I could handle anything, but this was different. Sure I said the words "It was for a reason; there was something wrong with my baby. We will try again; it will be okay.", but inside I hurt. On the outside I may have looked put together and coping with this unexpected loss; inside I was falling apart. I didn't know how to cope, how to move on, how to accept what had happened. Even though I wasn't alone, I felt very much alone. Alone in my grief, alone in my suffering, alone trying to recover. I'm use to consider myself strong but I then began to think myself weak with all the tears I was crying. How could I cry some much for someone who I had never met when I already have a child? I cried so much because I know how truly great it is to be a mom, I cried because the dreams I had of a second child were crushed, I cried because I didn't know what else to do. I struggled to be the best mom I could be to Kameron; while going to school full time, trying to find a new house and dealing with this miscarriage. Many days I went to bed feeling like I had failed her. This grief was quickly beginning to consume my life. Then one day it began to change.....
I got a comment on my blog from a lady that I had never met reaching out to me because of a comment I had made on Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope's website. She too was going through the exact same thing I was at the exact same time. I quickly sent her an email reaching back out to her. We began to talk back and forth almost daily of our struggles. We shared our stories, we shared our grief and we got to know each other. This "penpal" began to help me move along. I now had an outlet where I could say whatever was on my mind and not be judged. I shared things with her that I have only shared with my family of the actual miscarriage. This person that I barely knew quickly became a friend. I look forward to one day sharing more positive things with her, but for now it's not always rainbows and butterflies.
Finally on Sunday I began to finally move on. After talking with Freddie about things on Saturday; mulling over what we talked about, I finally realized it was time. This miscarriage can't define my life, I define my life. I actually became thankful that things had happened when they did and not further down the road. Thankful for my miscarriage? Yeah... I said that. I had dreams of a perfect, second child but obviously my baby had something wrong. Does something being wrong with he/she make me love it less? No. I still love that baby (do not call it a fetus because it was my CHILD). I will always miss the child that I will never know on this earth, but it is time to move on. I'm sure I will still have some sad days like my due date in September, but for a short time I was blessed with a second pregnancy. That pregnancy showed me that I'm stronger than I thought I was and that I can get pregnant (which was struggle with Kameron but not with my second baby).
I'm sure many people have questioned my reasons for sharing an experience that is so personal. On some aspect I shared it to help me but I also did it with hopes of helping someone else. If I hadn't shared my experience I wouldn't have "met" my new friend and I'm not sure that I would be where I'm at today with my healing process.....moving on....one second at a time.
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