Today, in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day, I am writing a post about getting pregnant again after a miscarriage. Last year in May I went to a routine prenatal appointment at 15 weeks gestation and discovered that my sweet baby no longer had a heartbeat. He had been taken into the arms of Jesus before I ever got to hold him in mine. The next few months are somewhat a blur as I went through the motions of my day, caring for my other children, while trying to process the loss. I remember the absolute worst things that people could say to me at that time was, “Well, at least you weren’t very far along” or “It’s for the best, there must have been something wrong with the baby anyway.” Yes, I heard those both more times than I care to remember. And each time it felt like a knife through my heart. It’s true I wasn’t very far along, but that little baby already had a place in my heart, in my family, and in my dreams of the future. I spent a lot of time those next few months pouring my heart out to God, reading His Word, and writing down my feelings. I truly believe that all three of those things helped keep me from falling apart.
Fast forward a year, and I’m pregnant again. Although it felt so different at first. Every other pregnancy I have felt joy mingled with excitement and a little bit of nervousness. I’ve wanted to tell everyone and my pregnancy is all I ever want to talk about. I wasn’t prepared for the shift this time in how I would feel. I was more nervous than joyful. I was reserved. I didn’t want to tell anyone right away-because what if it happened again?
I think what took me most by surprise was my inability to bond with this new life growing inside me. It’s like I was holding back so that I wouldn’t get my heart broken again. There was no singing lullabies to my tummy, no rubbing it while murmuring affectionate words and hopes for our new life together. And so much anxiety. Why haven’t I felt movement yet? Is what I’m feeling normal? Did this happen last time or with my “normal” pregnancies? I over-analyzed and over-thought every little thing.
Even now at 8 months pregnant, I’m just beginning to hope. I can feel the baby moving and kicking all throughout the day, so I think that helps to reassure me that everything is good. I still notice a reservation, but I am trying to work through that. I also notice I am more susceptible to becoming depressed. I have to daily look for joy in my life so I don’t get sucked into a black hole of worry, doubt, and hopelessness.
I have to remind myself that God is in control, and no matter what happens He will never leave me nor forsake me. He already knows what tomorrow holds, and as long as I look to Him I will be okay. Although this pregnancy has not been what I’ve expected, I am happy. Happy to once again feel a baby in my womb. And hopeful. Hopeful that in 7 short weeks I will be able to hold this baby in my arms and kiss it’s newborn, glowing face. And hopeful that one day in Heaven I will be able to do the same for my little boy that I never got to meet in this life.
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