A Loss is a Loss

... and just like that, the pregnancy is over.
The baby is gone.
I miscarried.

I lost the baby.

My heart is broken.
I have never felt so breakable.
Fragile.  
Feeling like I might just crumble onto the floor into nothing.

I'm lost.
Lost between wanting to leave this world so I can just meet this baby, hold him or her... even if just for a few minutes.
But then I'm snapped back to reality that no ... I wouldn't want to leave my children that are here with me on earth.
But DAMN IT!
We are all supposed to be TOGETHER in the same world!
NOT SEPARATED!

I am angry.
People avoid me now.  I'm still the same person.  Just a cracked version of myself ... I don't have a disease.
Miscarriage is not contagious.
I am angry that my pregnancy made other women feel jealous and sad that they weren't the ones expecting.
Some didn't even hesitate to tell me.
I want to ask them, "Are you happy now?  Do you feel better?"
But I'm afraid I would hurt their feelings.
Isn't it funny how that works.
I'm afraid of hurting them. 

A loss is a loss.
Whether it's a first pregnancy or a fifth, or a sixth, seventh, or eighth.
Or whether you already have children or not.
IT STILL HURTS.
Unlike any pain I've ever felt.

People don't think about my husband.
The father.
He hurts too.
But due to the rules of miscarriage, a father is not allowed to grieve the way the mother is.
He has to grieve differently.
You see, he is not only grieving over his lost child, he is also trying to stay strong for the mother.
My body is betraying me.
It is weak and sore. 
And now he has to do all of the things I cannot.
He cannot sit and weep.
He has to go to work, come home, then do the shopping, meals, cleaning, carrying laundry baskets, carrying kids, driving kids around ... and on and on and on.
And still be available and ready to catch me when I collapse into his arms, sobbing.

I was trying to get by with the thinking that a miscarriage is only God's way of saying, "You're not quite ready."  ... and taking the child back until you are ready.  And a subsequent pregnancy is the same baby.
But today I remembered a book I read called "Heaven is Real"... where the boy meets his sister.
So it can't be the same baby.

I just can't make sense of all of this.

I just want my baby back.

There is something I've noticed.
Family members aside, those who I thought were closest to us, didn't automatically and willingly reach out.  They have been distant and skittish.
Instead it was the people we've met through our children and through churches ... those were the people who were quick to step up and offer sincere condolences, prayers, and help.
As word spreads, more and more people are cautiously approaching.
But this has really opened my eyes to the blessings that are our children, and the families we've met because of them.
And what wonderful families we have met through God.