I didn’t know I was already losing you just as I was starting to love you.
I didn’t know while I was so excited and hopeful for all the things to come, you were already leaving my body. And my heart.
I didn’t know something like this could happen in what feels like both an instant and an eternity. That it would feel like it was just yesterday we saw those two pink lines and yet here we are, eight weeks later, without even an ultrasound picture to hold.
I didn’t know how angry it would make me that life went on while yours didn’t. How the world could actually keep spinning while I felt ours crashing. How there was still light and laughter when it felt so dark and dreary.
I didn’t know I would be dealing with such a rollercoaster of emotions for the days to follow. That one minute I would be manically cleaning my house and the next I would be breaking down on the bed.
I didn’t know my heart would shatter having to hide the “big sister” shirt we didn’t even get the chance to give our daughter. She was born to be a big sister and we believed in our hearts it was finally time. To feel like we were robbing her of that chance was a different kind of hurt.
I didn’t know the guilt I would feel. Guilty that my body couldn’t protect this little life. Guilty that maybe this was somehow my fault. Guilty for feeling so awful when there are people out there going through far worse.
I didn’t know the shame I would feel. I didn’t know how embarrassed I would be to talk about it. Partly because it felt so taboo and partly because it happened so early, it felt like I shouldn’t be struggling.
I didn’t know it could happen in such a quiet way. That there could be the smallest sliver of hope I would cling to for the days it took to finally confirm the cold, hard truth.
I didn’t know all the things I thought you were supposed to say to someone going through this would actually hurt more than help. It wasn’t meant to be. Things happen for a reason. At least you can try again.
I didn’t know it could—and would—happen to me.
And now I’m left picking up the pieces and trying to navigate these waters I never thought I would be in. Because we don’t talk about it enough. We don’t give ourselves the safe space to talk about something so many of us are struggling with silently.
I can tell you what I do know.
I know it’s okay to hurt and stumble through it.
I know it hurts just the same regardless of how far along you were or how it happened.
I know it’s okay to need help to get by but to not know what you need that help to look like.
I know I still suffered a heartbreaking loss and I shouldn’t try to diminish these feelings just because I feel like the world around me tells me I should, or because I feel like it wasn’t “enough” of a loss.
I know there’s a light at the end of this tunnel . . . and hopefully, a rainbow at the end of this storm.